Author: M.R. Pritchard
Date: 2013-02-27 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Dystopia; Fiction; Science Fiction; Novels; Post Apocalyptic
Description: Love, deception, and conspiracies in a post-apocalyptic America, this is how dystopia is created. Book One in The Phoenix Project Series Andie Somers has finally found a perfectly balanced life. After leaving her high pressure position in a genetic research lab, she’s now found solace in nursing. Too bad the balance doesn’t last long. One night Andie’s life is thrown off kilter when a suspected seismic event occurs. Now, Andie is going home to find her family, even if that means escaping a hospital on lockdown and abandoning some of the city’s most critical patients. She may never work as a nu
Publisher: Pritchard Publishing

The Phoenix Project Series Books 1-3

The Phoenix Project

The Reformation

Revelation

M. R. Pritchard

The Phoenix Project Series is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 M. R. Pritchard

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.  Please refer all pertinent questions to the publisher.  All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher.

Paperback ISBN-10: 1495306402

Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1495306402

First Edition March 2014

Published by Pritchard Publishing

Edited by Kristy Ellsworth

Cover illustration by Jorden Pritchard

Stock Photo:© adimas - Fotolia.com

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Contents

The Phoenix Project Book I

Prologue

Chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-three
chapter twenty-four
chapter twenty-five
chapter twenty-six
chapter twenty-seven
epilogue

The Phoenix Project Book II

The Reformation

Part I

Pastures are for sheep

CHAPTER one

CHAPTER two

CHAPTER three

CHAPTER four

CHAPTER six

CHAPTER seven

CHAPTER eight

CHAPTER Nine

CHAPTER ten

CHAPTER eleven

CHAPTER twelve

CHAPTER thirteen

CHAPTER fourteen

Part II

The Manifesto

CHAPTER fifteen

CHAPTER sixteen

CHAPTER seventeen

CHAPTER eighteen

Part III

The Tour

CHAPTER nineteen

CHAPTER twenty

CHAPTER twenty-one

CHAPTER twenty-two

Chapter twenty-three

CHAPTER twenty-four

CHAPTER twenty-five

CHAPTER twenty-six
epilogue

The Phoenix Project Book III

Revelation
chapter one

Newlyweds for fourteen weeks
and counting…

chapter two
chapter three
chapter four

Newlyweds for fourteen months,
and counting…

chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven

Newlyweds for two years,
and counting…

chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen

The Collection of Sovereign and Supplies
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-three
chapter twenty-four
epilogue

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The Phoenix Project Book One

Prologue

I turn my attention towards Dr. Drake. He's sitting behind a large desk. His old yellowed eyes looking me up and down as I stand in front of him. I notice he’s wearing the white lab coat again. It’s just for show. I know this, since he hasn’t laid his hands on the lab equipment in decades.

"Mrs. Somers, I suggest you think about your decision," he tells me again.

I've already thought about it. "My decision is final. I'll pack my things now," I reply, unable to look at him any longer.

"I will not offer you your job back." He taps his pen on the desk, probably expecting me to mull it over a few minutes longer.

"I don't want it back." I turn on my heel and stomp out of his office.

I’m free. I’m finally free. I never have to return to this lab again, with all its sterility and coldness.

Ian is going to be pissed. I was supposed to stick it out here for a few more months, but I can't take it anymore. I'm tired of coming home late, missing Lina's childhood. She's almost three and I feel like she spends more time at the babysitters than at home with us. To tell the truth, I was planning on leaving. I've been attending night school to become a nurse and I only have twenty-four virtual clinical hours left until I have my nursing degree.

I walk swiftly through the offices and dull hallways, headed for my workspace. I should have taken it as a sign when Dr. Drake showed me where I was going to be working. The desk is shoved between two laboratory benches in the back of the room, secluded, which is how I’ve spent almost every day here. I grab an empty box from under the lab bench, bringing it to my desk. I pile everything inside; paper files, thumb drives, textbooks, notebooks and the few personal belongings I've brought in with me: a statue of a unicorn, a framed photo of Ian and Lina, Lina's drawings.

When I’m done, I stand there looking around, making sure I’ve taken everything.

I will not come back to this place. Not after what he’s done to me, humiliating me in front of my peers at a national conference. I was presenting my research and I had theorized that we had the ability to create genetically enhanced organisms through selective breeding, and minor genetic alterations. I had even tried it, creating a non-aggressive, highly intelligent breed of rat. Dr. Drake’s lab assistants couldn’t replicate my work, so I’m sure that’s what brought on his growing distaste for me. He interrupted me during my seminar, questioning my methods, arguing against my theories, claiming that he didn't see any hard evidence of my findings.

I should have been prepared for it. My college professor warned me that this could happen; the way I could answer analytical test questions with minimal work and how I had such trouble explaining my laboratory methods even though my findings always worked out perfectly. "You have something special," my molecular genetics professor told me one day. "You don't need to see the genes or experiment for years, somehow you feel it. I like to call it genetic intuition, very few can do this. It’s a gift, a talent-embrace it." But whatever gift he thought I had, it wasn’t getting me any respect from Dr. Drake.

I look around to make sure I have all of my belongings. I walk to the large subzero freezer and search the frozen shelves for my samples. I take out the three metal trays containing hundreds of tiny micro containers. It’s all the genetic material I've worked on for the past four years. Hydrochloric acid? No, that would make too much of a mess. Instead, I throw them in the sink and turn on the hot water. I plug the drain with a paper towel and leave. The hot water will denature everything in those tubes, rendering it useless.  Now Drake can start over from scratch. I'm done with this.

I leave the lab. I take the elevator to the main floor. I rip the badge off my blouse and throw it in a tall metal garbage can as I walk out the door. I hope I never see another genetics laboratory again.

Chapter one

There is a child in my room, giggling, hiding under the heavy covers at the foot of the bed. I have been laying here for an hour waiting for my alarm to go off so I can get ready for work. I didn't hear her sneak in though. She giggles again. I lean over the side of the bed.

"Lina?" I ask.

She sits on the floor, wearing the same princess pajamas that she has had on for two days. Her curly blonde hair is clumped into a tangle of knots at the back of her neck and the old family Bible is in her hands. She’s looking at a drawing of Adam and Eve. I’m sure other parents might be appalled to see their five year old looking at a picture of mostly naked adults. But she goes to Catholic School so I’m sure she’s seen this picture before.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I found this, Mom.” She points to the apple in the drawing.

“What do you think that picture means, Lina?”

“You shouldn’t eat forbidden fruit.” I wait, resting my chin on the mattress and giving her a chance to continue. She runs her little finger over the image of the snake hanging over the apple, “There’s always some crazy worm inside trying to turn you to the dark side.” She turns the page of the Bible, moving on to the next drawing. I laugh to myself at her interpretation of the image, so naive yet so incredibly true. I get out of bed and start for the shower.

The bathroom door cracks open just as I finish, pulling the heavy mist from the hot shower out of the room. I can see one dark brown eye watching me intently from the small crack between the door and the door frame. He knows I don’t like to be bothered when I am getting ready for work, that I don’t like talking this soon after I wake up. Finally, Ian opens the bathroom door the rest of the way.

“Your brother called.”

“What does he want?” I ask.

Ian hesitates. His dark eyes turn to the floor as he runs his hand through his shaggy blonde hair.  “He had a cyst removed from the back of his neck and needs someone to change the packing.” He pauses for a moment, watching me.  “And… you’re the only nurse he trusts.”

Now I know what took him so long to speak. He knows I hate packing wounds. I sigh and turn back to the mirror. “Let him know I’ll stop by on my way to work tonight.” He doesn’t reply. Instead the bathroom door closes with a puff of air, knocking a pile of Lina’s hair ties off the counter. I turn back to the large mirror and start drying my hair, leaning in close. I can see dark circles under my eyes, tingeing my pale skin a bluish gray and making my green eyes look darker. I search the skin around my eyes and mouth for wrinkles. I don’t find any, but the disappointment is still there-the fact that I used to look at least five years younger than my actual age. Now I certainly look all of my twenty six years, and it only took four years on the night shift to age me.

I turn off the hairdryer, leaving my hair damp, and then rummage through the makeup case on the counter. I lightly apply some mascara then line my eyes with thin stripes of black eyeliner. The University Hospital dress code states that registered nurses are not allowed to wear makeup or perfume on any unit in the hospital. I don’t like the idea that the hospital thinks it owns me since they were kind enough to employ me. I don’t like the feeling of being controlled. I like to break the rules, but just a little bit.

Searching the laundry basket on the floor I pull out a matching black uniform and undershirt, I shake the wrinkles out of them. Dressing as a nurse is definitely much easier than dressing for the research lab I used to work in. It seemed like every day, the business attire I had to wear to the lab got ruined by caustic chemicals burning holes in them or staining them. I stare into the open closet at the row of blouses, slacks, expensive shoes, barely worn for the past few years. A few pieces still have tags hanging off them, never worn. A little piece of me misses wearing them.

I push the hanging clothes aside and reach for the shelf, selecting a well worn sweatshirt with the hospital logo. Strangely enough, the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, of all places, is freezing at night-the unit that is filled with pre-term infants who have trouble regulating their body temperature.

Lina greets me at the bottom of the stairs, “Aw mom, you have to work tonight again.” She contorts her cherub face into a sad frown.

“I will come home in the morning. Just like I always do.” I pick her up and hug her tightly, kissing her cheek, breathing in the strawberry scent of her curly hair.

I turn to the couch where Ian sits. “Do you think you could give your daughter a bath tonight?  Perhaps comb her hair so I don’t have to cut the knots out of it again?” He glances at me then reaches for the remote, turning the volume up on the television.

He’s watching another news channel. There are men talking at a desk-political babble-discussing something about the Reformation. He’s been tracking the politicians, carefully honing in on who he is going to vote for in the spring elections. Come election time I’m going to wish I had watched a little bit of this, but I don’t have the time right now. I can trust in Ian to make the decision for me when it’s my turn to vote.

Lina giggles and runs back to the couch, sitting next to Ian, holding a book in her hand. The living room is a clutter of toys and dirty dishes. I step over them, walking towards the kitchen to start the coffee maker. Leaning my back against the cold granite counter, I stare at more dishes piled up in the sink and on top of the dishwasher, wishing Ian would do some cleaning while I’m working. The dishes will have to wait, just like the rest of the mess in this house.

“What are you making for dinner?” Ian shouts from the living room.

The disorder of the house is frustrating me and I want nothing more than to scream at him. I have exactly fifteen minutes to get on the road. There is no time for dinner tonight. “There’s plenty of cereal,” I shout back to him.

“Stevie,” I call. Our black, shaggy Shepard mix runs to me from her dog bed in the corner of the kitchen. I pet her soft head and lead her towards the back door. Stevie runs around the backyard, inspecting its corners for intruders or anything out of place. I walk over to the garden and check for any ripe vegetables. There are a few sparse weeds sprouting out of the soil between the rows of tomatoes. I reach into the dark soil and rip them up from the roots. Nothing is ripe but I can see the small fruit starting to hang off the vines, little green tomatoes and tiny cucumber buds. Similar to the rest of the U.S., my new year’s resolution was to start living a more organic lifestyle, trying to avoid eating the genetically engineered food shipped in from far away countries. So I forced Ian to build a raised garden bed. We worked for two weekends, hammering boards and shoveling dirt. At first he wasn’t happy about it, but after everything was planted and now that he can see the vegetables growing, he’s a little more accepting of the garden.

After Stevie is done inspecting the yard, she bounds back to where I am standing and we walk to the back door together. Once inside I look through the shelf of books in the dining room, searching for something to read if work happens to be slow. I settle on a handbook of edible plants and place it in my work bag. It’s a strange book I inherited from my mother, but filled with short snippets of information-easy reading for the night shift.

“Okay, I’m leaving now,” I announce, but there is no response. No one is listening. I head back to the living room carrying my bag and a travel mug of coffee. “I love you little Catalina.” I bend down to kiss Lina on her nose as she reaches up and hugs me around the neck. I turn to Ian, putting my face in his line of view of the television. I kiss him hard on the lips, letting him know that even if my words aren’t the nicest, I do actually love him-a lot.

“Family hug!” Lina shouts. Ian presses the pause button on the remote, finally taking his attention away from the television to notice I am leaving for work. Lina stands on the couch wrapping her little arms around us. I tell them both that I love them, that I will see them in the morning. I remind Lina to brush her teeth before bed, since I know I can’t count on Ian to do it. I slip on my black rubber clogs and close the heavy wooden front door, locking it from the outside.

One day Ian asked me why I lock the doors on my way out. So no one will get in the house and steal Lina is what I had replied.

He laughed at me. “You don’t think I can protect her?” he had responded, scoffing at me. The truth is I know he would protect her. But I don’t want anything happening to either of them. They are my family, my life.

chapter two

The highway I drive to work runs parallel to a winding river. I glance to the wavy dark water as I drive. Turning the radio on, I click through the stations but nothing catches my interest. I turn it back off and decide to drive in silence instead. When the road bends away from the river, I resort to counting things in twos as I drive, trying to keep my mind busy; taillights on cars, signs on the side of the road, window panes on the few passing houses, and the lines on the blacktop. The highway snakes past dense green forests and rolling farmlands. Clusters of sickly looking cows stand in the large fields, swiping flies off their sides with their long tails.

After a while I come to the two consecutive exit ramps on the highway, each one leading to a town with a population less than ours. Small communities formed hundreds of years ago back when our town, which sits on the shore of Lake Ontario, was a bustling port and the mouth of the dark flowing river provided a means to ship goods south. Between the port and the farms, the residents of this area enjoyed prosperous times. But those times haven’t been seen in many years. Instead, a foreign enterprise erected three nuclear power plants, utilizing the bitter waters of Lake Ontario to cool the nuclear reactors and shipping the powerful current to the large cities of the northeast, providing jobs to only a few hundred of the local population. The farms have shriveled, resorting to employing immigrants only during the harvest seasons. So those of us who don’t work at the power plant or the local state college must travel the forty miles south to the city for employment. Evidence of our travel lie on the shoulder of the road, which is littered with dead wildlife: deer, opossum, skunks and foxes.

Last year, the local newspaper wrote an article announcing that our county has the highest unemployment rate in the state, but this was already assumed. We have watched many of the nearby neighborhoods fall into dilapidation and most of our family and friends have moved out of state. The newly found homeless started taking up residence under the two bridges which stretch over the river, connecting the east and west sides of our town. The most disturbing events have been the number of break-ins and unforeseen deaths from drug overdoses over the past few months. Others have resorted to jumping off one of the two bridges, unable to face the bleak life ahead of them. Instead of living with dire prospects, they chose to follow the rapidly flowing dark river, turning the once vital aspect of our town into our very own local River Styx. Every few weeks the local fire department is called to collect the bodies which have surfaced at the mouth of the river. We know that eventually we will have to move closer to the city to escape the commute and the growing disparity weighing upon our small town.

--

After thirty minutes I reach evidence of civilization. There is an exit ramp ahead leading to a bustling suburb with a mall, department stores, restaurants and the large apartment complex where Sam, my brother, lives. I drive through the winding apartment complex roads and pull into an empty parking stop. I notice a small red car parked next to Sam’s truck. His girlfriend is there. I think her name is Stacy or Macy, something like that. She is the second girlfriend this year and probably won’t be the last.

I head inside and brace myself for the worst. I hate packing wounds.

The wound on the back of Sam’s neck is without a doubt disgusting and I’m glad he can’t see my face as I pull the gauze out of the wound, bright pea green pus strings to the gauze. I was hoping his girlfriend could make herself useful by handing me supplies, but she just stands on the other side of the room, squeaking and making “eww” sounds. I control the urge to tell her to shut it.

“Thanks for stopping on your way to work.” Sam speaks as I tend to his wound.

I would like to reply but I can’t open my mouth and risk puking on the back of his neck. I work as quickly as I can cleaning the wound, poking fresh, damp gauze into the gaping hole and then placing a dry bandage over it all.

“All set,” I pat Sam on the shoulder.

“Thanks sis.” He stands up, towering over me. He is supposed to be my little brother but my head barely reaches to his shoulders. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that we are related with such extreme differences in height. Somehow he grew tall and athletic, while I retained the body size and shape that hints on a preadolescent; short and barely shaped as a normal woman my age would be.

I give him instructions on what medications to take, how to care for the wound and sleep comfortably for the night. Of what I’ve found in the medical field, once you are a nurse you are everyone’s nurse. And as soon as the word has been spread, be sure to welcome middle of the night phone calls and the inspection of rashes at holiday dinners.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hug Sam and wave to the girl.

Next to Ian and Lina, Sam is all I have left. Our father died of cancer right before I graduated high school and then our mother’s death from an unsuspecting heart attack a few years after that were both hard on Sam. When our mother died, he was a junior in high school and I was pregnant with Lina. He was intent on living by himself, feeling orphaned and alone. I argued with him for weeks as we cleaned out our childhood home, trying to persuade him to live with us. I didn’t want him to be alone. Mostly, I didn’t want to be without him-the last survivor of my immediate family. Eventually he agreed, staying in our guestroom until he finished high school a year early. Not long afterwards he came to me, telling me he was enlisting in the air force. This brought on another tidal wave of arguments. I was afraid to lose him, I was afraid that he would be sent off to war and never come back. Finally, we settled on a four year plan where he would apply to medical school; something he had talked about before our mother’s death. He put his air force plans on hold, giving him plenty of time to enlist before he surpassed the age requirements if medical school didn’t work out.

Now he’s spending the summer working as a security guard at the local mall until the fall when he enters the University. Each time I see him I hope that he will reconsider his air force plans because I’m sure our current government would have no problem sending my baby brother into a harsh life he’s never imagined, one where we have to go on without each other, splitting up the last of our family.

chapter three

I walk through the tunnel that passes under the street, connecting the hospital to the parking garage. When I reach the hospital entrance, I nod hello to the guard sitting at the desk and lift my badge so he can see it. Just as I do, the elevator dings and I jog to the open door. I know if I don’t get on now I will be waiting a long time for the next one, making me late for my shift. The elevator is packed full, a mixture of workers and visitors. Someone is carrying a tray from the cafeteria and the smell of fried fish wafts out from under the foil, making my stomach turn. I hold my breath and push the button for the twelfth floor, then squeeze myself to the back of the elevator since I will be the last to get off.

“Going all the way up, huh?” asks a man with a visitors tag on his shirt. I smile and nod at him, the heavy fish odor making it impossible for me to open my mouth and speak.

The elevator stops on almost every floor, each time a few people get off and the air around me feels a little bit lighter. The person with the fish gets off on the ninth floor. Finally, I can take a deep breath, inhaling the fishless air. There is only one other person remaining in the elevator with me and we stop on the twelfth floor. I wait for her to get off first. She turns right towards the visitor doors carrying a diaper bag and a handful of tissues. Without asking I can tell she is one of our mothers returning to the hospital to spend time with her ill infant.

I turn left towards the employee entrance and swipe my badge. The automatic doors open with a heavy click. A breeze rushes past me filled with the scent of diapers and baby shampoo and the buzz of tension in the air. There are clicks, beeps, and buzzes from monitors, IV pumps, and warming beds. It reminds me of that widespread misconception that the Eskimos have over a hundred words to describe the snow. Well, nurses have over a hundred ways to describe the beeping of alarms. Most visitors get tense as they listen to all the noise, shooting us questioning glances when we don’t rush to answer an alarming monitor. Usually we continue on with our task at hand because the truth is, we know what alarm deserves a rush to the bedside.

There is a crowd of nurses waiting to search the assignment board for their name and the names of the babies they will be taking care of. While I wait to see what my assignment is, I glance up at the dry erase board which holds a listing of the nurseries in the neonatal ICU and the babies in them. We are up to fifty-five babies. It has been a busy spring, the majority of our babies have been pre-term and an abnormally large number of babies have been born with anomalies and genetic diseases. The shortage of nurses has left ample opportunities to pick up overtime, and this is an overtime night for me. The dread of a less than stellar assignment hangs over my head.

The crowd has finally filtered out, my coworkers walk off with handfuls of paper containing the lists of medications and doctors’ orders for the two, three, or four babies they will be taking care of tonight. I hear a multitude of grumbles and curse words as they pass me. It seems the assignments are not good. I find my name on the sheet and the three babies I’ve been assigned. I collect the order sheets for my patients and head to their bedsides.

As I step into my assigned nursery I am grateful for a few things, one being the large picture window which spans the length of the nursery, facing to the north. Second, I am not assigned to the baby in the far left corner-the gastroschisis-born with his intestines spilling out of the hole in his abdomen where the umbilical cord once attached to him. He lies upon on a small elevated bed. He’s ventilated with a breathing tube, has seven IV pumps running, and a central line taped to the top of his scalp. His abdominal contents are contained in a plastic bag suspended from the warming unit above him.

One of our new nurses stands at the bedside. She has been here for almost six months now and her hands quiver over her order sheets as she receives report from another nurse. She’s thinking the same thing we all did when we first started. I hope I don’t kill this patient. She will be assigned to some of the sickest patients for at least another three months, something she was never told when she agreed to work here. If she’s lucky she will be assigned in the same room with senior nurses who are willing to help her, who will answer her questions without ridicule, who will check her medications and let her know when her patient is about to die. Some of the senior nurses will sit by and watch, not helping, assessing in their own minds if this new nurse has what it takes to work here.

Some nurses eat their young; they tear at their flesh with razor sharp teeth until they are a bumbling bleeding mess and want nothing more to do with being a nurse. That is a true story.

It’s almost eight at night. I get a detailed report from Jan, the nurse I am replacing. She talks quickly; I’m sure so she can rush home to her four children and see them before they go to bed. She assures me that I have a “good assignment,” the kiss of death, which means in a few hours something will go terribly wrong. She should know better.

I lift the quilt that’s covering the isolette, which is nothing more than a Plexiglas box, and get started taking care of my first patient. Inside is a small baby girl, sleeping on her stomach. She is scrawny, all arms and legs with a large head. Her preemie sized diaper is too large, covering most of her back, all the way up to her bony shoulder blades. I open the portholes in the front of the isolette and put my arms through. The air inside is warmed to regulate her body temperature so she can retain her fat stores and gain weight. I gently grasp her head and her hips and flip her, placing her on her back. I take her temperature, her blood pressure, and listen to her with the pediatric stethoscope which hangs at her bedside. The diaphragm is the size of a quarter, covering almost half of her little chest. I watch the skin on her chest retract when she breathes, almost able to count each tiny rib. The whole time she sleeps, exhausted from being born too early, her body now responsible for doing things that the placenta normally would. She barely opens her eyes when I run my fingertip over the top of her head to feel her soft fontanel and ridges of her skull. I put a clean diaper on her and fold down the front so it doesn’t look so large on her. At the bottom of her isolette is a pink blanket about half the size of a normal baby blanket. I lift her up with one hand, my thumb and ring finger under each of her bony armpits, and place the blanket under her then swaddle her in the blanket to keep her warm.

“Back to sleep baby,” I whisper to her as I close the portholes to the isolette. She turns her head away from me, falling back into a deep slumber of growth.

I write in the infant’s chart, listening to the chatter in the nearby nurseries as the other nurses talk amongst themselves, not bothering to talk to me. I am still under the impression that many of my co-workers mistake my silence for ignorance, since I’m not very talkative. I remember when I was done with orientation and the unit supervisor told me the other nurses thought I was too quiet. As if changing occupations wasn’t hard enough; my inability to fit in here has been even harder. My response to her was that I was observing the unit. And I was watching my new co-workers; figuring out who I could trust, who I could go to for help, and who to stay away from. It doesn’t help that sometimes I just feel like I don’t fit in here quite yet. And if it weren’t for the innocent babies, who I enjoy taking care of so much, I might look for work elsewhere.

“Andie, can you help me for a minute?” I look to my left to see Lauren standing in front of her patient, green gloves on her hands. I walk over to her.  “I’ve never had a gastroschisis. I don’t know where to start.” She says flatly.

We both pause, watching its intestines hanging in the plastic tube, the fluid floating around them to keep them moist jiggles with each breath delivered by the ventilator. If this baby survives, the surgeons will slowly squeeze the intestines back into the baby’s abdomen then suture it up. Hopefully he will go home in twelve to sixteen weeks, like a normal newborn, with only a small straight scar an inch long across his abdomen instead of a belly button. But right now this baby resembles something barely human. Machines are breathing for him; we are feeding him through IV lines and have suspended his vital organs in a bag outside its body.

Lauren turns to me with that look on her face. I’ve seen it before. It’s how the new nurses look right before they run to the unit supervisor and tell her they can’t work here anymore, that it’s not for them, that they can’t do this. Then they quit and leave, moving on to explore other units within the hospital, eventually finding a unit that they are more comfortable with.

Before she can say anything, I speak quietly so the other nurses won’t hear. “You’re a good nurse, Lauren. Soon you’ll be doing this by yourself, no problem. Just hang in there.” I rub her shoulder and she smiles a little.

I help her sedate the baby boy. We change the gauze around the plastic tube which holds the baby’s intestines since the fluid seeping from the infant’s abdomen keeps saturating the gauze with bloody yellow fluid. We suction the secretions out of the baby’s breathing tube. And after a few hours Lauren is finally comfortable with taking care of her patient without my help. I return to the three infants I have been assigned and continue with their care.

--

At five in the morning I decide it’s time for a break. My hands are shaking from hunger, my throat is dry, and I feel like my bladder is going to explode. Only then do I realize I never called home to tell Ian or Lina goodnight. A pang of guilt hits me. I know Ian probably spent most of the night telling Lina I was busy taking care of the sick babies and trying to get her to go to bed so she will be rested for Kindergarten in the morning.

I know what Lina will say when I get home; “Mom, you never called me last night. I missed you so much.” And then I will hug her and kiss her and let her eat some sugary cereal for breakfast to make up for it. I can only hope Ian gave her a bath like I asked.

I swipe my badge to get into the break room. Someone made coffee and it smells fresh-not good-but fresh. I pour some into a Styrofoam cup adding two packets of sugar and some milk. I know the first sip will taste terrible and bitter, the sugar and milk barely making it palatable, but I will drink it anyway because I need the caffeine to make it through the next few hours.

I take a plastic lid and walk to the nearby window while I stir the coffee. The best part of working on the twelfth floor is the view. We can see the hills, the valleys, and the soothing lights of the city at night. I watch a group of crows land on the roof of the building across the street. They look to the sky and one cocks its head to the side. I follow their gaze. The sun is starting to come up, decorating the sky in pink and orange. I take another sip of the bitter hospital coffee and write my name on the side of the cup so I don’t have to worry about someone else drinking from it. I try to relax and think of my plans for the day, once I get out of work.

After I drop Lina off at school I can sleep for a few hours before she has soccer. Thankfully, I don’t have to worry about cooking since there is a roast ready to go in the crock pot and fresh bread I made a few days ago. I think of the piles of dishes and toys waiting for me to clean up at home, making a mental note to add a few glasses of wine to my dinner. Ian and I struggle with dividing the household responsibilities, but we try to make it work with both of us employed full time.  We’re very grateful for what we’ve found together. Especially since over the past eight years as we’ve watched family and friends struggle with their marriages, their divorces, and fighting over custody of their children. Each time the children are the ones who lose the fight. We both agree that we don’t ever want Lina to experience that.

Looking out the window one last time, I glance up at the sky and see a large airplane taking off from the nearby airport, the nose of the jetliner pointing up in the heavens. It looks like it’s barely moving against the gray-blue morning sky. Then, I hear a high pitched whistle and a deep rumble, vibrating the double pane window glass. To the right of the jetliner six army jets race by, headed north, probably headed for the army base. My heart skips a few beats when I see how close they are to the Jetliner, but it continues its ascend while the army jets continue speeding to the north. Strange, I’ve seen plenty army jets flying over the city but I’ve never seen them risk flying so close to a commercial aircraft before.

I leave the break room and head back into the NICU. The momentary silence from the chatter of nurses, beeping of monitors and crying of babies has been relaxing. Feeling refreshed I swipe back into the unit and the doors open towards me. The noise creeps up to me, muted at first, then louder as I walk to the nursery where my patients are. I wave across the wall partition at another nurse who is watching me. She turns back to the group of nurses she is standing with, speaking in hushed tones. Another one looks at me so I keep walking and pretend I don’t notice. Who knows what they are gossiping about today? I see Lauren is looking much more relaxed, the tension gone from her brow. I take small sips of the bitter coffee as I walk, holding back a grimace each time I swallow, praying that it won’t actually put hair on my chest. I stop in front of the large nursery window and take in the panoramic view of the city as the sun rises.

The highways passing through the city are already starting to fill with cars. People making their morning commutes to work. My watch says it is 6:50 am, almost time to go. Jan’s curse never transpired. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hits me. I reach out to the windowsill to steady myself.  Sometimes, if I close my eyes it will go away. This is nothing new; after working all night I’m usually greeted by one of two things: dizziness or nausea. I close my eyes but it doesn’t stop, when I open them again I see an IV bag waving back and forth on its metal stand. This is when I realize I am not dizzy. The floor moves under my feet, the building is shaking.

chapter four

The trouble with hospitals; everything is on wheels.

I notice the ventilator machine rolling away from Lauren’s patient. I drop my coffee in the trash can next to me and I rush forward to stop it with both hands, pushing it back into place and clicking the wheel locks with my foot. Lauren has that look again. She doesn’t know what to do. I hear shrieks and  chatter from the surrounding nurseries. I grab a hold of Lauren’s arm, squeezing it, trying to bring her back to the present.

“Make sure all the brakes are on.” I shout to her over the growing noise. I hear a few screams and babies crying from the other nurseries.

We circle around the nursery, clicking the brakes into place on everything with wheels; ventilators, isolettes, warming beds. Then, as suddenly as it began, the building stops moving. I’m sure since we are on the top level we got the worst of it. Our unit security guard has made himself present from the hallway desk. I hear him tell someone he is searching the unit for damage and injuries. The radio on his shoulder squawks to life with static, a garbled voice announces that there is a water main break in the basement.

Looking out the window I see that none of the buildings have been damaged. People have started trickling out of the buildings onto the sidewalks and streets and I can hear the faint sirens from the nearby firehouse.

For an instant my mind shifts to home. I wonder if Ian and Lina are safe, if they were awoken by this earthquake. I know that Ian is capable of taking care of Lina, that she is always his first priority. But I can’t stop the tugging deep in my chest. I have to call home; I have to check on them. In five more minutes when the patients are stable I’ll call home and check on them, I tell myself.

But I’ll never get to, because not a second later the power goes out.

--

The trouble with hospitals; everything runs on electricity.

I have never heard the unit this quiet. It’s the kind of silence that echoes loud in my ears making them ring. People stop talking, babies stop crying, the hum of the ventilators and the alarms are silent. It should take less than thirty seconds for the backup generators to turn on. Thankfully, there is enough morning light from the large windows to see. Turning to Lauren’s patient, I notice the duskiness starting in the baby’s feet and hands. With no ventilator the baby has no way to oxygenate his body. The seconds are ticking by, and with them the grayness seeps further towards the center of the baby’s small, still chest.

Why isn’t the power back on? This is taking too long.

Ventilators aren’t working. IV pumps aren’t working. I look at the nearest isolette and see that there is no temperature reading, which can only mean there is no heat. A cold baby is not a happy baby. I turn my attention back to Lauren’s baby. There is no color left in his body, he has no identifiable chest rise. This is not good.

“Get your bag, Lauren, your baby needs to be bagged. We can’t wait any longer for the power.” Lauren grabs the resuscitation bag hanging above the baby. Hopefully the compressed air pipes running through the hospital contain enough flow to get us through, until the power returns. Lauren turns the flow meter and the resuscitation bag comes to life, filling with air. I disconnect the breathing tube from the ventilator and attach the bag.

“One, two, three, squeeze.” She whispers as she squeezes the bag. Slowly, the baby’s chest rises then falls, and the gray discoloration starts to recede.

I hear Dr. Smith’s voice as she’s walking into the nearby nurseries asking if everything is alright. Someone must have woken her up, if the earthquake didn’t. She walks up to Lauren’s baby. “Is everything good here?” She looks to the baby then Lauren. “Just keep this up.” She waves her hand in a circle over Lauren’s bedside as though she’s casting a spell. Then turns on one heel and walks out of the room, the bottoms of her oversized wrinkled scrub pants dragging at her heels, kicking up dust as she runs into the next room.

“I need the Doctor, he’s extubated,” I hear someone say.

“You’re doing fine, Lauren.” I look into her eyes, trying to sense if she realizes the seriousness of our current situation. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her. I follow the doctor, standing on my toes to look over the shoulders of the five nurses standing around the bedside of a very small baby. I took care of this baby last week and his prognosis was not good. He was born 13 weeks early, still just a fetus. You could hold him in the palm of your hand and have room to spare.

I see the ventilator has drifted during the earthquake, pulling the breathing tube out of the baby’s throat. Someone hands the doctor a laryngoscope to place a new breathing tube. The duskiness that was creeping up on Laurens baby has already consumed this one. Unmoving, the tiny fetus of a baby is gray all over. There is no chest rise, and he doesn’t even struggle to breath. His body has already given up.

“I can’t see anything. This light is not working,” Doctor Smith yells. “Get me another laryngoscope!”

This is what we were trained to do, save the lives of these tiny babies. Everyone knows what needs to be done. There is a flurry of hands; cutting medical tape to secure a new breathing tube, pulling the syringes out of the IV pumps and pushing fluids by hand. Three nurses run in opposing directions, looking for the extra laryngoscopes that we keep in emergency resuscitation kits throughout the unit. One by one I hear them shout out that none of the lights are working. Someone flicks a flashlight on. Nothing.

The doctor remains quiet; she rolls her shoulders and bends down to the infant warmer. She slides the unlit laryngoscope into the lifeless baby’s mouth. Someone hands her a breathing tube. She threads it down the scope, slowly. The nurse on her right attaches the resuscitation bag and starts squeezing. The baby’s chest rises and falls. Everyone standing at the bedside lets out a breath of relief.

The doctor listens with the stethoscope. On this tiny baby the diaphragm covers its entire chest. She shakes her head side to side and continues to listen. We’re holding our breath again.

Nervously, I tuck the loose hair behind my ears which have sprung forward and curled up in the increasing heat. When the power went out so did the air conditioning.

“This heart rate is too low,” Dr Smith says quietly. “We need to push epinephrine.” For the first time she looks up, scanning our faces. “This is a full code, let’s get moving people!”

The nurse next to me grabs my arm, pulling me along. We run to the nearby medication room which holds our medication dispensing robot. This tool was meant to help keep track of medications. It’s a large white box with a hundred tiny drawers. A nurse or doctor would sign into the touch screen computer and select a patient name and medication and one of the drawers would pop open with the needed medication. But now, without power, the screen is black and empty.

I turn to the nurse by my side, finally recognizing her; Sheila. “What the hell?” she blurts out.

I bang my fist on the drawer labeled “epi” in red. Nothing happens. My heart is beating in my ears and I can feel the sweat beading up on the back of my neck, clinging to my hair. Someone runs up behind us and I hear Doctor Smith ask what is taking so long.

“The medication robot is locked,” I yell into the hallway.

“I’ll be right back,” Sheila says as she runs out of the room.

I continue banging on the drawer with my fist, trying to get it to move. I shove my shoulder into the machine, but nothing happens. Less than a second later Sheila’s back, carrying a rusty red toolbox.  She pulls out an old flathead screwdriver and a hammer. I step back as she slides the point of the flathead into the tiny crack between the drawers of the medication robot. She lifts the hammer with her free hand and bangs it on the handle of the screwdriver. On the third hit the drawer starts to crack open. On the fourth hit she misses. The hammer hits her knuckle, I hear her groan, and bright red blood starts seeping out of her finger. On the fifth hit the drawer cracks open. Sheila reaches in and pulls out a vial then we both turn and run back to the baby.

We couldn’t have been gone more than a few minutes. But when we return the whole feeling of the room has changed. Before, this room was alive and buzzing with tension, adrenaline was speeding through everyone in the room. Now that’s gone, replaced with a somber heaviness and silence. I slow my pace to a walk and look towards the baby everyone was just working so hard to save. Dr. Smith looks at me and shakes her head, pushing her lips down into a pouted frown. Hanging the stethoscope on the warmer, she leaves the bedside and heads into the next room, her shoulders now slumped and heavy. There are still other babies that need her right now. I turn to the baby we were just trying to save. It’s painfully apparent that we are too late. Now he looks like a tiny gray doll, limp, lifeless, a child’s toy. Not something that was once alive with real parents and the hope to grow and thrive. A sharp pang starts in my nose and wells up behind my eyes. I start to walk away, breathing in deeply as one of the nurse’s covers the baby with a white crisp pillowcase.

The trouble with hospitals; people, and babies, sometimes die.

--

Lauren continues to squeeze the resuscitation bag for her patient. Right now it’s the only thing keeping the baby alive.

I decide I can’t wait any longer. I walk swiftly to the wall and grab the black phone. I punch in the phone number to my house but there is nothing; no ringing and there’s not even a dial tone. I slam the phone down and pick it up again. Still nothing. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket. The touch screen is blank and black. I hold down the power button waiting for the circular white insignia to light up in the center of the screen. But still nothing happens. I don’t understand.

I try and think about what just happened. There was just an earthquake, which we don’t have many of in upstate New York. I can remember four in my whole life. In the back of my mind I can see my college physics professor drawing on a chalkboard. I feel a nagging sense of urgency-this is something else, this is something bad. Suddenly all I can think about it getting in contact with Ian and Lina.

“Is anyone’s cell phone working?” I call out. The four nurses near me check their pockets, each of them shaking their heads no.

I look out the window craning my neck down so I can see the street. People are milling about, talking to each other. Many have their cell phones in their hand, but no one is talking on them. I notice that none of the cars are moving. Many of them are stopped in the middle of the road, some shifted at odd angles and pointed towards the sidewalk. There is a man in a suit sitting on the hood of a car. A police officer walks down the middle of the road on the yellow lines, waving his arm yelling something. Everyone on the street just stares at him. I shift my gaze to the highway and see more of the same. The on-ramps are clogged with non-moving vehicles. There is even a city bus at a dead standstill with a cluster of people standing around the open door.

I hear the stairwell door slam open. When I turn I see people filtering out of the stairwell. There are about fifteen nurses, their faces red with exhaustion, sweat matting their bangs to their faces and the stray hairs to the back of their necks.

Dayshift is here.

Behind the dayshift crew follows the night shift supervisor. She pushes her way through the day shift swarm which is crowding around the desk. Everyone is talking. The supervisor picks up the phone. She pulls the bottom speaker close to her mouth and holds down a button trying to make an announcement. I see her lips move but I don’t hear anything. She looks around while she talks then stops abruptly, frowns at the phone, and slams it down hard. The crowd at the desk hushes their chatter.

“No one is to leave the hospital!” the supervisor yells. “This is a Code Silver: Environmental Crisis. All employees are to stay on their assigned units and continue to carry out their duties. If an employee leaves this hospital, you will be charged with patient abandonment. Your nursing license will be revoked. You will face criminal charges. We will be updating you all throughout the day as we receive information as to what is going on.”

The supervisor pushes her way out of the crowd huddling around the desk, and people shout questions to her but she doesn’t stop. She walks quickly with determination, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor as she heads back to the stairwell doors and disappears.

The trouble with hospitals; once they hire you they think they own you.

--

People are talking. They dayshift crew has thinned out among the night shift, helping feed babies, wrapping them in extra blankets to keep them warm, and taking turns squeezing the resuscitation bags for the babies with breathing tubes. Dr. Smith continues to check on all the babies within each of the eight nurseries. I keep checking my phone, hoping it will come back to life. I feel stupid doing it, but when I look around I notice other people doing the same thing.

It’s starting to get hot. Now the unit smells musty and heavy. The tinge of sweat and soiled baby diapers clings heavy in the air. Instantly I miss the cool smell of baby soap that usually greets me when walking onto the unit.

I take a hair tie out of my pocket and try to pull my shoulder length hair into a pony tail, but plenty of curly strands fall down around my face. I tuck them behind my ears and dab at my forehead with a paper towel. Not knowing what is going on at home worries me. The sun is up now and I should be dropping off Lina at school. I should be kissing Ian goodbye as he leaves for work. The ache in my chest burns deeper every time I think of them both. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I have to get home. I can’t stay here. I have worked beside these people for years, and now they are about to find out what kind of a nurse I am. What kind of a person I am. I am a coward. I am selfish. I will not abandon my family for my patients, not even if they are babies, and I am filled with horrible shame during this moment of realization.

chapter five

I watch out the window as a line of people collect at the door to the hospital. A row of security guards stand in front of them. The people are yelling, pointing up to the floors above them. Visitors. They must have family here on the floors below us or even babies here in the NICU. I think of the baby that died a few hours ago. His parents may be down there, waiting, not knowing that they are about to receive some of the worst news of their lives. I sit down in a rocking chair. The adrenaline which kept me running earlier during the earthquake and the full code has trickled out. Exhaustion hits me like a sharp bullet between the eyes. Trying not to think, I tilt my head up to the ceiling and stare at the white pecked tiles. I start rocking, back and forth, back and forth, and I close my eyes. Before I know it I am breaking the golden rule of the night shift, no sleeping on the clock. However, no one wakes me.

--

When I open my eyes, they are dry. I rub them with both hands. A shiver runs down my back and goose bumps prickle up on my arms. Three things happen as I sit up: I see the tiny flecks of dust quiver around the air conditioning vent above me, I hear a monitor beep, and I see someone washing their hands.

“Power’s back on!” Lauren smiles at me. Her baby is reattached to the breathing machine and she rubs her sore hands.

“That’s great. How long was I out?”

“About an hour,” she replies.

“Do we know what time it is?”

“I’m not sure. I heard someone say they thought it was around ten.”

I look out the window. The sun isn’t very high in the sky so they could be right. I notice three ravens perched on the roof across the street, standing still as statues. Behind them the black tar of the roof radiates heat in dense invisible waves. It’s good the air is back on because it’s already evident that today will be a hot day.

“The supervisor is back. She’s going to make an announcement.” Lauren leaves the room and walks towards the desk.

“Attention please!” The supervisor yells. “Currently the hospital is operating under a Code Silver. You are to remain on your unit. Emergency generators are running. The phone system is still down. There are cots and blankets in the conference room for those of you who have worked all night. And the cafeteria will be delivering food to each of the units.”

“What do you expect us to do, stay here?” Someone from the crowd shouts. “You can’t keep us here, some of us need to go home and be with our families!”  I stand on my toes to see who is talking. It’s Jan, the nurse who gave me my report the night before, the one with four children.

The supervisor’s brow furrows, she looks exhausted. “I understand many of you want to go home. I do too. However I have to warn you that most of the city remains without power.  Transportation is out of order. There are reports of rioting downtown and some have reported hearing gunshots. Our emergency room is currently crowded with the injured and the sick. We may ask some of you to help out in triage. I suggest that each of you stay here where it is safe until, until…..” I can see the gleam in her eyes, she is holding back tears. She takes a shuddered breath in, “until it is safe to leave the building.”

I walk back to the window and look towards downtown. There is a sliver of smoke snaking its way towards the sky. On the highway overpass I see a cluster of men walking together, their skin is dark and contrasting against their white shirts. They all wear the same thing; black jeans and white T-shirts.  They walk up to a man sitting on the hood of his car on the highway. The man jumps up and starts walking backwards, he’s taking something off his wrist and out of his pockets. I see him toss them on the ground in front of him. One of the men in the white T-shirts raises his arm, he is holding something black in his hand and I realize it is a gun. Suddenly, the man walking backwards drops to the ground in a crumpled heap.

“Oh shit,” I whisper to myself.

The deep rumble of propellers redirects my eyes to the sky. Overhead, dark green army helicopters are flying, but none of them stop to land in the city. They continue to the North, following the highway-the same route I drive on my way home. At the city limits I see something fall out of the last helicopter, a small white parachute erupting from it when it hits the tree line. I look back down to the highway and see the gang of men run along the main street that heads downtown. The last place I want to be stranded is in a large city without power, where rioting and looting is already taking place. All the army helicopters flying north give me a bad feeling. My stomach fills with nausea. I’m not sure if it’s from fear or guilt or a combination of them both, but I have to get out of here and find my family.

I turn to Lauren. “Are the cell phones still down?”

She nods as she pulls her phone out of the bag next to her. “I’ve been checking mine every few minutes but nothing-it's dead,” she tells me.

“I’m going to lie down in the conference room,” I tell Lauren and the other nurses in the room, hoping that they don’t come looking for me any time soon.

I walk out of the room and towards the hallway. Looking over my shoulder I see that no one is watching me. I take a sharp turn for the stairwell.

--

Running down twelve flights of stairs is no easy feat in rubber clogs. Since the elevators are working again, I was hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone and luckily I make it to the basement before anyone else decides to use the stairs.

The door to the basement is propped open. I walk up to the glass window to my left. There is an employee sitting at a desk looking bored, tapping his pen on a notebook. Above him is a sign that says Central Receiving.

“Can I help you?” He asks without looking up.

“Yeah, we are out of baby formula in the NICU.” I smile at him as he looks up with a hint of skepticism in his eyes.

“I will have someone bring some up in a few minutes,” he looks back down at his papers.

“Um, could I have a package now? I have a patient that needs to eat now.” He gets up and stalks through the door behind him, returning a moment later with a box of baby formula. He sets it in front of me. “Thanks so much,” I tell him, doing my best to smile sweetly at him before I turn to walk away and stand in front of the elevator.

The man behind the desk puts his head back down and starts writing. I back up slowly and start walking down the long gray hallway behind me, following the signs that point towards the security offices. I walk swiftly and silently, passing the security office door, continuing a few more feet to the row of vending machines. I stand on the far side of the last one and I wait, leaning up against the cold stone wall, taking a few shallow breaths. I hear the click of the security office door as it opens and I hear talking.

“What do you suggest we tell these people, Colonel?” asks the flustered voice of a man.

“I would suggest you tell them nothing. Minimal information is the safest right now,” responds a man with a deep southern accent and impeccable speech.

“You don’t think we should tell them about the bomb? We have people who live in that area. Who have families, children. They are going to want to know what is going on.” He’s talking fast, afraid someone will interrupt him. “And what about the radiation? Are we even safe here?”

“What I would suggest is that you do not speak of this information to anyone outside of this office.” It must be the Colonel speaking now. His voice is demanding and full of authority, someone who is used to giving orders. “I wouldn’t worry about radiation, we are safe from that. Most of the people living up there seem to be fine. But there is another situation we are dealing with. Just keep these people calm and under control. Once the situation is contained in the northern county we will be setting up a command station here. Everything will be in place by this evening.”

I hear a pair of shoes echo down the hall and the door clicks closed to the security office. I search my pocket for some change then walk around the vending machine and feed quarters into it. The security door opens again.

“Aren’t you supposed to stay on your assigned unit?” I turn to see a security guard eyeing me suspiciously. The hallway light shines off the badge clipped to this right shoulder.

“We needed formula and I needed a drink.” I shake the box of baby formula in front of me.

“I suggest you get back to your unit,” he replies sternly. He waits for me to move.

I wait for the bottle of soda to drop and retrieve it from the bottom of the vending machine. I smile at him and turn to walk down the hall towards the elevators, his eyes burning holes in my back.

That was close. But it was worth the risk because now I know a few facts: there was a bomb, but no radiation. It was strong enough to knock out power, ruin electrical circuits and cause the earth to shake over forty miles away. I ponder these details as I walk back to the stairwell. I try to think back to my advanced physical chemistry class, to think of what kind of a bomb they could be talking about.

--

The employee locker room is empty except for me, and the guilt that hangs on my shoulders for what I am about to do. I set the formula and soda on a bench near my employee locker. I grab a towel and soap bottle from a nearby cupboard. I undress in the shower stall and take a quick shower. When I am done I wrap myself in the towel, my hands shake nervously as I twist in the combination to my lock. I pull out the spare uniform I keep in my locker. I keep it here for those unfortunate situations which occur in the NICU, like getting vomited or pooped on. The uniform is similar to the one I was already wearing. I scrub my hair with the towel, trying to squeeze as much water out of it as I can and run a comb through it. There is no time to dry it so I twist it up with a spare hair clip from the locker. I stare at the black sneakers on the floor of the locker and then at my work clogs. After a moment I decide that the sneakers will be a better choice for a forty mile walk.

Pulling my work bag out of the locker, I roll up my used uniform and tuck it in the bottom of the bag then place the small box of formula and soda in next. Before I go I look in the small rectangular mirror attached to the inside of the locker door. My face is pale with guilt and anxiety and the uneasy feeling that I am about to make one of the hardest decisions of my entire life.

--

The good thing about hospitals; there is an abundance of supplies, until they run out.

My next stop is the clean utility room where the hospital keeps all the medical supplies. There is another badge swipe. This room smells sterile and cold. It is filled floor to ceiling with cupboards. I’m not sure what I need or what I could use, so I take random supplies, a roll of sterile gauze, medical tape, a few long needles with red caps, some syringes filled with normal saline, a handful of paper towels. I place the supplies in a small plastic biohazard bag and shove it deep into my work bag. If I get injured I can use the supplies. And since I have no weapons to defend myself, the long needles might come in handy.

The door opens behind me. It is Lauren. She looks at me, her eyes wide with shock.

“I have to go,” I tell her. I don’t give her a chance to say anything. I just turn and walk out the door.

--

The hallway is filled with the salty smell of cured meat and the sweet smell of fruit. The door to the employee lounge is open, and inside a cafeteria worker is setting out food on the long lunch table. I walk up to her cart and take a bottle of water, two apples, a banana and a bag of pretzels.  She turns and looks at me as I am placing the food into my bag.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she scowls at me.

She doesn’t need to tell me this, I am already ashamed of what I’m about to do.

I head to the stairwell, running down to the first level where I came into work over sixteen hours ago. The same security guard sits at the desk. His gray uniform is wrinkled and he looks tired. He turns to me. My hands throb, sending a tingle up each of my arms. This is adrenaline. This is fight or flight. For a moment we just stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something. We say nothing. Instead, he nods silently, crossing his arms over his chest. This must be my ticket to pass. I wonder if maybe I’m not the first person to sneak out of here. I walk past him, quickly turning my pace into a sprint. The security cameras bore holes into my back, my moment of defiance getting recorded. I am almost afraid the hospital will come to life and pull me back, that it will make me pay for all I’ve done in the past hour; the lies, stealing, breaking the nurse’s code of conduct.

I reach the parking garage at the end of the hallway. It is dark. There are no lights here. I turn right and head towards the stairway. The tingling in my arms has reached my shoulders and has started creeping towards my neck. It feels like someone is following me, chasing me. I get the same feeling when I go into our basement at night to change over the laundry. It propels me forward and I run up the five flights of musty cement steps towards where I parked my old Jeep.

When I reach the top of the stairs, my lungs and back of my throat are burning. My chest is tingling. My leather bag feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. I push open the metal door; the heavy humid air of early afternoon envelopes me. Between the heat, the adrenaline, the fear, the guilt, I can’t take it anymore. I turn to the wall of the garage and vomit.

There is a pinching in the back of my nose. I take a deep breath and sit on the curb. I have to see Ian and Lina. I have to get back to them. I know this is not a time to break down. I have to try and be strong. I take a deep breath and collect myself. I walk to the jeep and open the driver’s side door with the key. I sit in the driver’s seat, placing the key in the ignition. I turn it. Sadly nothing happens.

“It was worth a try.” I say aloud to myself.

I look around the cabin of the jeep. I take my sunglasses. I get out and open the back door, searching the middle passenger bench. Lina’s booster seat is secured behind my driver’s seat with a small stuffed owl sitting in the cup holder. I take the owl and slam the door. I make my way to the cargo area and open the hatch, my eyes scanning the items that are strewn about. I grab my dark green gardening hat. It is flexible and light and will protect me from the bright sun that glares in between the levels of the garage. There is a heavy wool blanket that Stevie lays on when she rides in the car with us. I would like to take the blanket but it’s too heavy. However it gives me an idea. I lift the bottom of the cargo deck. Underneath is a compartment with a snow brush, jumper cables and an emergency kit. I open the emergency kit and take out the light reflective blanket. The side of my bag is starting to bulge. I know that this is all I can bring with me. I hope it is enough to get me home.

chapter six

I have to make it the four blocks from the parking garage to the highway on-ramp. I'm hoping since this is hospital and university property that I can get out safely, without experiencing the crime mentioned by the unit supervisor. Already I can hear the commotion of the city. I walk so fast I'm nearly running. I make it a block, then two, before I see more thick smoke rising into the sky from downtown. Hopefully all the crime will stay there, where the shops and restaurants are. I’m sure they are being looted right now. There are voices off in the distance, some laughing, some shouting. I've made it three blocks. I pick up the pace, eager to get out of here. Just as I'm nearing the highway exit I hear gunshots in the distance. It sends me into a full sprint up the on-ramp. I weave between the stalled cars until I get high above the city and onto the overpass. I stop and look behind me. The windows of the hospital glare at me. Even from this far away I can still see the line of people trying to get into the hospital, and another line has formed at the emergency room doors. I hope that no one is watching out the windows. I hope that they can’t see me fleeing the city, abandoning the hospital’s most helpless patients.

I follow the two lane highway as it snakes over the city, winding to the left, the right, then back again, around treetops and tall buildings. I was hoping that no one would be up here, that people would have abandoned their vehicles. Instead I see a few people sitting in their cars and on top of them. I walk by quickly trying not to make eye contact. I don't want to be delayed. I want to get home as fast as possible, before dark. I definitely don’t want to be out walking in this during the night. None of them try to stop me. They just watch me pass by, crinkling their faces up in response to the bright afternoon light.

The sun is hot on my back and I stop to remove my uniform top, leaving me with just a thin sweat soaked undershirt. I take the hat and sunglasses out of my bag and put them on then tuck the uniform top inside.

There is an exit for the airport to my right, a sign that I am almost to the suburbs. I can see ahead of me that the highway starts to slant down to the ground level. I head for the steep decline, nervous that soon I will no longer have the protection of the elevated highway. The sides of the road ahead are lined with fences and trees from the nearby housing developments and suburbs.

To my dismay, I notice a group of people on the highway ahead of me. As I get closer, I can see that it is a group of black men, all of them wearing white T-shirts. Oh no, the gang. They stand in a circle looking at something on the ground. Some of them yell at whatever is-I’m going to assume it’s a person. I’m too far away to hear what they are saying and the stalled cars on the road are making it impossible for me to see what it is. I’m sure they are armed. I need to hide.

I walk towards the far side of the road, trying to create as much distance between us as possible. This area of the highway is open with two lanes and cement embankments on each side. I look over the side of the overpass. It’s too far to jump off-if I jump from here I risk breaking a leg. I think of hiding in one of the stalled cars until they leave, but most of them have their doors open. The gang will certainly hear me or find me when they are done with what they are doing. I’m sure they will be searching the cars on their way back through. I crouch behind a small compact car, walking slowly, doing my best to be quiet while shielding myself from their view. Once I get to the back end of the car, I run as quickly and quietly as I can to an SUV parked a few feet away. I’m hoping that I’m silent enough that they won’t notice me.  As I reach the back end of this vehicle I wait for a moment, trying to get my timing right. I take a few silent steps towards a sedan that is parked closely behind the SUV. Now the gang is directly behind me. I squat down, my back resting against the hot metal of the sedan; I peer around the back. I have a direct view of the situation and I can see that there is a man on the ground in front of the gang, shielding his face with his arms. I can see pistols tucked into the gang members’ pants, bulging out from under their shirts. One is holding a gun in his hand, pointing it at the man on the ground. I feel like I should do something to help him, but I don’t want to get involved. And all I have for a weapon are the long needles in my bag which would do nothing to defend me against a gun. I just want to get home. I just want to get away from this city. So, here I am, a coward once again-twice in one day-prepped and ready to flee, to abandon someone else in need.

I look to the next car that’s about four feet away, getting ready to run for it. I take a deep breath before I turn, taking one last look at the situation behind me, and then it’s too late. The man on the ground sees me and one of the gang members turns, following his gaze. Crap. Before I know it he’s walking towards me, and he’s tall, taller than anyone I’ve ever met. Sweat marks stain the neck and underarms of his shirt. It only takes a few steps for his long legs to get to me. I stand, my heart beating in my throat, panicking. I back up until the cement embankment of the overpass hits me in the back. I should at least try to run or jump-I’d rather have a broken leg than get into this mess-but I don’t. I know this large man will reach me before I could get far. That is, if he doesn’t shoot me first. He grabs my shoulder, his fingers pinching into my skin as he pulls me towards the group of gang members.

“What do you think you doin’ out here girl?” He asks as he pulls me beside him.

“Check her bag, maybe she got somethin’ we be needin’!” Another gang member shouts, smiling, showing his row of gold teeth.

A third gang member reaches for the bag slung over my shoulder. If I make it out of this situation alive I need everything in that bag. I can’t let them have it. I hold my breath, waiting for them to rip the bag off my shoulder, but his hand hovers above me. When I turn my head to look at him, I instantly know why he stopped.

“Ricardo?” I ask in disbelief. “Are you kidding me, is that actually you? What do you think you’re doing?” For a moment, I’m afraid of what they might do to me for actually speaking.

I hear the man on the ground groan and roll to his side.

“What she talkin’ ‘bout?” one of the other gang members shouts.

We both ignore him. I’m sure it seems odd that I should know a gang member, but I have never known him like this. I never pictured him as a thug or being in a gang. I knew him as a nervous father when his girlfriend gave birth to his son five weeks early. He always dressed nicely when visiting his son. He was polite and quiet. I taught him how to change a diaper, how to dress his baby boy, how to give him a bath.

“How’s Junior doing?” I ask. I wait for a response, hoping that mentioning his son might save me. He drops his arm and shrugs a little. “How old is he now, three months? I bet he’s rolling over by now, isn’t he?” I press on. I stand there, glaring at him. Finally he smiles, the sun bright on his white teeth, almost blinding me.

“He’s great, Andie.” Ricardo takes a step towards me and wraps his long arms around me. It takes a minute for me to realize that he’s hugging me. He pats me so hard on the back it hurts. “I never got to thank you for all you did for us. When Junior was discharged you weren’t working.”

I may actually get out of this alive. “So what are you doing?” I ask him again as he pulls back from hugging me.

“After the earthquake they closed all the stores. We’re out of formula for Junior.” I give him a questioning look and he holds his palms in front of himself, defensively. “Hey, I’m just trying to help my family. Find food for my son.”

“Well, Ricardo, this is your lucky day.” I reach into my bag and pull out the box of baby formula.  “I will only give you this on two conditions.” Ricardo no longer looks at me, instead he is focusing intently on the box of formula. “You let me walk out of this city. I have a family to take care of too, and I need to get back to them. And, you leave that man on the ground alone.”

Ricardo’s features change quickly. He is no longer loose and relaxed, now he is tense with a cold look on his face, as though he’s preparing himself for an argument. He turns away from me, back to his companions.

“We done here. The white girl goes.” He points to the ground where the injured man lies, “Him too.”

Ricardo turns to me with his hand out. I place the box of formula in it. They start walking back towards the city. One of the men stops, kicking the foot of the guy on the ground.

“Take care of that baby, Ricardo,” I urge him. “He needs a father to grow up with.”

Ricardo nods at me and walks away. I stand and watch them until they are so far away I can barely see them over the river of stalled cars.

The man on the ground groans. I bend down placing my hand on his shoulder and roll him onto his back. He opens one eye. The other is swollen shut and his bottom lip is cut and bleeding.

“Sit up slowly,” I tell him. He groans again as I apply pressure to his shoulder, pushing him up to a sitting position. “Are you dizzy?” I ask. “Do you know where you are?” He doesn’t respond.

I hold my index finger in front of his nose. “Follow my finger,” I instruct him. His light blue eye follows my finger as I pass it in front of his face. I pull a paper towel from my tote and hold it to his lip. I look him over. He looks young, healthy and muscular, like he should have been able to put up a little more of a fight for himself. I don’t see any more wounds or bullet holes in his shirt. Whatever the gang wanted from him they must have gotten it or I have a feeling he would be dead.

“My name is Andie. I’m… well, I was a nurse at the hospital in the city.” I point back in the direction of the hospital.

“Who names their kid Andromeda,” he asks me, rubbing his shoulder.

“What?”

“Your name.”

“How do you know my name?” I sit back on my heels, certain he has me confused with someone else.

“You’re wearing a badge.”

I look down and see my hospital badge clipped to my shirt. “Oh, my parents were really into mythology.” I pull the badge off and throw it in my bag, feeling like an idiot. “You look like you’re going to be fine,” I tell him, “but the hospital is still open if you want to get yourself checked out. Just follow this highway to the third exit.”

“I’m not going back into that jungle,” he tells me. It’s strange, his voice doesn’t waver. His tone is deep and even. Unlike that of a person who was just confronted by a gang of men with guns. And even though he was on the ground, I get the feeling he wasn’t afraid of them.

“Ok then,” I stand and haul my bag over my shoulder, “I have to go.”

He says nothing. Just nods his head and looks down at the crusty pavement at his feet.

I walk away, leaving him in the road, and resume my walk home.

--

It is late afternoon and I’ve finally reached my exit to head north towards home. My thighs burn and my shirt clings to my back, saturated with sweat and the heavy humid air. I stop and lean against an empty car. My stomach is grumbling and the back of my throat is dry with thirst. I climb up onto the hood of the car and set my bag next to me. I pull out the apple and the water I took from the hospital. I twist my body, sitting at an angle, my feet dangle near the tires, so I can watch the highway extending from the city. I don’t want any more surprises. It’s eerily silent and I’m thankful that I haven’t run into anyone else. The confrontation with the gang was enough to shake me and I’m not sure I’ve fully recovered from it.

I can see the back lots of a housing development from where I sit. Even though it’s still bright outside, it looks like the glow from a back porch light peeks through the thin row of trees. I’m relieved at the sight of electricity. Hopefully it has been restored to the rest of the city, and that might keep people off the road.

I take a bite of the apple and open the bottle of water. I drink half of it, splashing some on my hands and rubbing my face, trying to wash the sweat off from my walk. When I look up, I see someone walking towards me. Limping actually, wincing with every other step he takes. I sit on the hood of the car and wait. There is no place for me to run out here. I watch him as he gets closer. When he’s a few hundred yards away I can see that his right eye is swollen and bruised, and there is a cut on his lip.  This is the man I left behind in the road.

He’s looking at me as he walks straight towards me. I stay sitting on the car, holding my ground. I reach into my bag trying to find one of the long needles I took from the hospital, hoping that I don’t need to defend myself from this man after I saved his life.

He stops in front of me pushing both of his hands into his pockets.

“I never thanked you for saving my life,” he tells me.

“You’re welcome,” I respond.

There’s an awkward silence because I’m sure we are doing the same thing; trying to figure the other person out, judging each other based on what we look like. He’s dressed nicely enough-a pair of dark jeans, leather work boots and a dark blue T-shirt.  His hair is dark brown, almost black, and I can see the dark ink of a tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. I know what I look like, a sweaty ex-nurse, which I’m sure is not at all flattering. I continue to search my bag, trying to find one of the needles.

“My name is Adam,” he pulls his hand out of his pocket and holds it out towards me. “You’re Andie, right?”

“Yeah.” I give up searching for the needle and shake his hand.

“Are you headed north?” He asks.

I don’t have to ask him how he knows, it’s obvious from the exit sign I am sitting under. “Yes,” I tell him hesitantly.

“So am I. How far are you going?”  He raises his hand, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight. There is something about him that’s oddly familiar, something that I can’t quite place. He talks with the local dialect, pronouncing his O’s with a harsh emphasis, like only those of us from northern New York do.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” I ask him.

“I don’t think so. Where are you from?”

“Phoenix.”

“So am I.” He smiles showing a row of perfectly straight teeth.

I stare at him, still unsure. “I’m not sure if I believe you, Mr. Adam. Tell me what your favorite restaurant in Phoenix is?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

He rocks back on his heels, still smiling, “Jacko’s.”

Only a townie would like that place, it’s nothing more than a trailer by the river serving hot griddle meals. I continue with my quiz. “Favorite Bar?”

“Front Door Tavern.”

“The name of our local homeless man?”

“Stinky.”

“Dear God, it truly is a small world,” I mumble at him, rolling my eyes.

“Would you mind if I walked with you?” He asks.

Part of me does mind. I stare at him for a moment longer, trying to judge what he might be up to. Finally, I give up pondering. What could it hurt? I started out my journey alone, but now that night is coming it might be good to have a partner to travel with.

“I guess,” I reply as I hop down from the hood of the car.

I collect my things and throw the apple core across the road into the tall grass. Then we walk.  Actually, he limps. For miles we don’t speak much. Every so often I hear him let out a grunt when he steps down on his right foot. I let him continue for another mile or so, avoiding the fact that he is injured and slowing me down, until I can’t take it any longer.

“Ok, let’s take a break and I can take a look at your foot. I can’t listen to your yelps of pain any longer.”

He stops, exhaling deeply. I signal him to sit on the hood of an abandoned car that’s low enough for me to work. I watch him as he hobbles over and sits down. I pull up his right pant leg. His ankle is deeply bruised and swollen. As I start to pull up his left pant leg he puts his hand down to stop me, grabbing my wrist.

“What?” I ask him. He doesn’t say anything. Instead he reaches down and pulls it up himself. Strapped to his ankle is a gun.

I step back, my hands up. “Why are you carrying a weapon?” I ask.

“Why are you inspecting my uninjured ankle?” He stares at me sternly.

“I have to make sure both your ankles don’t look like pounded rump roast.” I glare at him. “So why are you carrying a weapon?”

“Why do you care?”He asks me, looking annoyed.

“Because I didn’t agree to travel with you having a gun strapped to your body.”

Adam removes the gun that’s strapped around his ankle, and pulls out a Swiss army knife that was tucked down in his boot. “It’s for protection.”

“Then why didn’t you use it against those men on the overpass?”

He laughs at me. “When it’s seven to one, it doesn’t matter if you have a gun.”

“I didn’t have a gun,” I reply, standing back from him, waiting to see what he’s going to do next.

“Could you just look at this, please?” He asks, setting the weapons down behind him.

I inspect each ankle and check the pulse in each of his legs. Then I palpate the swollen area, causing him to wince in pain again. “It looks like you have a sprain. I would suggest wrapping it with an ace bandage, taking some ibuprofen and staying off it for a week.” I stand up straight and look around.  “But it looks like we will have to improvise.” I dig through my bag and pull out the scrub pants I wore last night. I toss them at Adam. “Cut these into some long strips with your weapon there.” I point at the Swiss army knife.

I walk down the road, searching the glove boxes of a few nearby cars until I find what I’m looking for; an emergency First-Aid kit-which I take. On my way back to Adam, I search the tall grass and brushes off the side of the highway. It takes me about five minutes until I see what I’m looking for: a thick tall tree branch. I break the extra limbs off the branch until I have a single long stick.

Using the longest strip of my now cut up scrub pants, I wrap his foot and ankle as tightly as I can. I use another small strip to tie a knot around his ankle, holding the wrap in place, and then use another to wrap an area on the branch so Adam can hold it without getting splinters.

“Here’s your new cane. Treat it well.” I hold the stick out for him. “Oh, I almost forgot!” I open the emergency kit. “Jaaackpot!” I sing high and off key. Inside are a few medical supplies and a travel pack of Tylenol. I hand the medication to Adam.

“I don’t know how I feel about what I just saw,” he says flatly, accepting the pills from me.

“Well, most patients would be grateful they have a nurse with two brain cells to rub together. So count your lucky stars that I found you and not someone else.” We stare at each other for a moment.

“There is something truly wrong with you.” He rips open the Tylenol and throws both tablets into his mouth, swallowing them without water.

“Yeah, well, I’m bored with this playing nurse thing that’s going on. And I’m kind of in a rush to get home and find my family. So if we could get this train rolling that would be great.” I pick up my bag and throw the emergency kit on top. As I’m walking away I hear Adam limp up behind me. He’s walking a little faster now, groaning a little less. We still don’t say anything for a long time, and I’m a little angry that he didn’t even thank me. I can feel him looking at me, judging me, trying to figure out if he can trust me; just as I did to him a few miles ago.

--

We have been walking for hours. Ahead of us I can see the off ramp for the mall near Sam’s apartment which means we aren’t far from the county line, but it’s starting to get dark. I stop and look around. The area ahead of us is filled with stores and restaurants, and I know there is a hotel not far from the highway.

“I think we should stop somewhere for the night,” I tell Adam. I wait for his response. “I have a brother that lives in an apartment, a few miles that way.” I point off to the side, away from our final destination. He lives in the wrong direction which would put us behind, probably by another day.

“That’s the wrong direction. It would put us behind. I don’t know about you but I want to get home as soon as possible,” Adam responds, reading my mind. I’m relieved that it’s not just my decision to bypass Sam’s place, but I will have to get in contact with him later. Right now, getting back to Lina and Ian is more important. “There’s a hotel,” he points straight ahead of us. “Looks like they have power. We can rest there for the night.”

By the time we reach the front doors, the sun is gone and all that is left is the settling dusk. The air is cooler now, crisper, and a strip of fog hovers above the ground. I can hear the dense hum of a generator. Adam holds the door open and waves me in. There is a young woman at the front desk who seems shocked to see us. When I catch a glimpse of myself in a wall mirror I know why. We are disheveled, tired and dirty looking. Adam’s busted face looks even worse in the overhead fluorescent lighting. His swollen eye is highlighted in purple and the split on his lip shimmers.

“Do you have any rooms for the night?” I ask the clerk.

She clicks away on her keyboard for a moment. “Do you want a king suite?” she asks raising her eyebrows at us.

“No, we actually need two rooms.” I respond quickly. I see Adam, out of the corner of my eye, smirking at her question.

We pay separately and lucky for us it’s half price due to the power outage. As the young woman hands us our keys she points to a dining room across the hall. “There are complimentary snacks and breakfast in the morning. That is, if we still have power.”

I thank her and walk to the dining room. After working all night and walking all day, I’m hungry and exhausted. There’s a buffet table with minimal food. Bread, bagels, fruit, bottles of water. I take a bagel, a banana and water and sit at one of the nearby tables. Adam follows and sits across from me. The tension from the highway is gone, and both of us are completely exhausted. Still, we find enough energy for some small talk.

He tells me he just got back from deployment in Germany for two years and he is headed home to see his parents and younger sister. I find out that we went to high school together, but never crossed paths much since he was a few years older than me. I tell him about Lina and Ian and what happened during the earthquake at the hospital. I leave out what I heard in the basement between the security guard and the Colonel. When we are done eating we part ways, our rooms in different hallways, and we agree to meet in the morning.

I close the door to my hotel room and turn the deadbolt lock. I feel a little better after hearing it click heavily into place. I have never stayed in a hotel room alone. I stare at the two beds before choosing the one by the window. I sit for a minute and stare at the phone. When I pick up the receiver there is no dial tone waiting for me to punch in a number, there is simply no sound at all. I check my cell phone, it is still blank. The ache in my chest is back again. I think about Ian and Lina, hoping that they are safe. I tell myself that tomorrow I will see them again. I have to.

chapter seven

I wake up groggy, aching and still tired, the previous day’s events still consuming my thoughts. It’s strange; like a dream, like a nightmare. There’s only lukewarm water for a shower, but it’s enough to wake me up. I go out to the dining room to see if Adam is there. I am relieved to see him sitting by the window looking refreshed, even though he’s wearing the same clothes as the day before. I head straight for the coffee carafe and pour some into a mug. I grab a few bagels and apples and cross the room to sit with him.

As I settle across from him I notice that I can see both of his light blue eyes and the swelling in his face has gone down. The split in his lip has even healed itself into a bright red slash.

He looks at the pile of food in front of me. “Are you starving to death or something?” He asks me.

I wasn’t ready to be greeted by a bad attitude. I would like to throw one of the apples at his face but instead I wrap it in a napkin with one of the bagels and tuck it into my bag. I eat in silence and stare out the window. Outside the hotel windows I can see the morning is heavy with fog and dew. The sun is starting to rise over the suburbs and a layer of dense fog covers the ground and roads, rising slowly, in unison with the sun.

After a few minutes he speaks again. “I’m sorry. I’m not really a morning person.”

I raise my eyebrows at him, “Neither am I. Usually I tell people not to talk to me before I’ve had my coffee. I’d say you’re lucky I didn’t throw something at your face.”

“I thought nurses were healers not fighters.”

“I thought army guys were saviors not assholes.” He starts to crack a smile, but stops abruptly, wincing and pressing a napkin to the split on his lower lip. “You thought wrong, Chuckles. Now let’s get moving. I want to make it past the county line today. I have to get home”

Just as we step out the front door of the hotel, a Humvee pulls up and a man in fatigues drops a stack of newspapers in front of the doors. I pick one up and read the front page.

“Seismic Activity Results in Nuclear Meltdown of Two Reactors on Lake Ontario Shores”

Adam is reading the headlines over my shoulder, his breath blowing wisps of hair in front of my face. I read halfway down the page.

“State of Emergency Instated for all of Phoenix County, No Travel Allowed.”

I skim the articles. It says that the radioactive contamination has been minimal and the reason for the no travel order is so they can investigate and cleanup. Somehow, the army has already set up barricades. They are treating survivors and identifying those who didn’t make it. The last article pays homage to all the residents lost in the event, which someone has estimated as up to 25,000 residents.

“That’s almost half the population…” Adam whispers directly into my ear. He’s standing so close and I’m not sure if it’s the news or the deepness of his voice that’s sending shivers down my spine.

“Let’s get going.” I fold the paper up and shove it in my bag.

“Are you sure you want to? The news report is pretty bleak, who knows what we will find when we get there.”

I find it hard to believe that he would want to give up now after all the distance we’ve traveled and being so close to home.

“I don’t care. I broke the law when I abandoned my patients at the hospital. I will never be able to work as a nurse again. My family is all I have. Without them there is nothing. I’m going.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

I don’t look up at him to see his reaction to my confession. He is the only person I’ve told, but I can’t let him see the sheen of tears coating my eyes. Not now, as the realization that I may have lost my entire family hits me.

We start out heading for the overpass to the northbound highway exit. I notice Adam is no longer limping and he has abandoned the cane I made him.  As we get closer to the exit ramp, I can see Army Humvees and barricades blocking both exits on and off the highway and men in uniform are standing by with guns on their shoulders.

“Wait,” I grab Adam’s arm, “Um…” I stutter for a moment, I wasn’t prepared to grab onto an arm of hard muscle. “They won’t let us by, we need to go around.”

We discuss our options for other roads leading north. There are a fair amount of railroads in disrepair to consider and some old back roads. Finally we decide to walk through the forest, parallel to the main highway. It is the fastest and most direct route and being late spring, the foliage is thick enough to hide us from whoever may be on the roads.

We turn around and walk behind the hotel bypassing the off ramp to the highway. At the back of the hotel there is a steep decline of tall grass which leads into the forest. More than once Adam grabs my arm to keep me from falling as I stumble through the tall brush. Just as we reach the forest line I turn around one last time and see what looks like one of the army men at the overpass pointing at us. Adam holds up a heavy tree branch for me to walk under and we enter the dense forest.

Adam leads the way, holding branches out of the way so they don’t hit me in the face. It’s cool in the forest and much darker than it was out in the open. Every so often I get a glimpse of the highway; there are still abandoned cars, just not as many as before. A chipmunk runs across the toe of my shoe.

It feels like hours have passed already. The back of my throat and thighs are starting to burn. Not long ago we passed a sign stating Phoenix was twenty miles away. The heavy hum of helicopters fills the sky. Adam signals for me to stop and get low. He’s chewing on a stick that he pulled off of one of the bushes we passed. I see a low hanging branch nearby and crawl to it, crouching down and leaning against the trunk of the tree. We can’t see the sky from the dense treetops. But we can listen, and the sound of the helicopters dissipates slowly. I reach for my bag and pull out the bottle of water that I stole from the hospital. Adam eyes me as I take a long gulp from the bottle. I realize he has nothing with him besides the stick he’s chewing on. I toss him the bottle.

We continue walking for another long stretch. And now, there is the sound of thunder rumbling in the sky ahead of us.

“I want to go out to the road and get a better look at the sky.” I tell Adam.

He nods and we head for the tree line.  Outside of the dense foliage of the forest the sky is gray and overcast. Ahead of us thunder clouds are collecting in a large gray tower.

“There are no cars here.”

“What?” I ask Adam.

“Look around us, Andie. There’s not a single car.”

I look behind us and in front of us, as far as we can see on the highway. He’s right; there isn’t a single car on the road. As I stand staring for a moment I am interrupted by a heavy low whistle. Adam and I respond the same, “trains?” This area is filled with abandoned train tracks, the whole county used to be heavy in industry and manufacturing. But now the train tracks are mostly overgrown and abandoned.

“Why are they running the trains? The paper said no travel.” Adam asks. I don’t respond. I’m thinking. “What about the radiation from the meltdown? They could be spreading the contamination.”

Finally I tell Adam what I heard in the basement of the hospital. “There was no earthquake and there was no meltdown. That paper was misinformed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I overheard some Colonel talking to a security guard in the basement of the hospital. He said that there is no radiation.”

“This doesn’t make sense. What is going on then? Is this a hoax or something?” Adam stares at me waiting for answers. He runs his hand through his short dark hair, then down the stubble on the side of his face.

“I don’t know what’s going on.” I reply. “But I’d like to find out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” He asks.

“I’m not sure.” I shrug at him. “Maybe it’s the same reason you didn’t tell me you were carrying a gun.” I turn and start walking on the empty highway, towards home.

Eventually he follows me. Since there are no cars to amble around, we are able to walk faster, making up for the extra time it took to walk through the dense forest. I can see the stoplight for the small town of Oswego Falls ahead of us, which means we are about fifteen miles from home. What I don’t expect to see is a chain-link fence cutting across the intersection of the road.

Adam and I both stop when we notice it. “Get to the forest,” He tells me, pushing on my shoulder. “Run!” He pushes my shoulder harder, forcing me to run.

We sprint off the side of the highway, down the embankment, across a patch of tall grass. I can hear the loud hum of helicopters again. I want to look back and see where they are going. I slow and turn, trying to get a glance. But as I do Adam’s hand reaches out grabbing my forearm and pulling me along behind him. He’s practically dragging me, running. I can feel small branches stinging me as they sweep across my face. I put my free arm up to protect my eyes but it barely helps. Finally Adam stops running and lets my arm free. He’s out of breath and bends over with his hands on his knees.

“What was that all about?” I ask him as I try to catch my breath, brushing the sticks and leaves out of my hair and off my shirt. I rub my hand across my forehead where one of the tree branches hit me. When I pull my hand away there’s blood on it.

“There were guards or something, putting that fence up. Off to the left of the road, they had guns. You didn’t see them?” He asks me between breaths.

“No.” I search my bag for one of the paper towels. “But that means there are people here. And if they’re working, then they aren’t suffering from the effects of radiation poisoning. So that proves it, there can’t be nuclear fallout.”

Adam looks at me, thinking, milling the facts about in his brain. There is only one logical answer and not much time passes before he agrees. “So I guess you were right, Andie. Something else is going on here.”

“Now what do we do?” I ask him, pressing a towel to the cut on my forehead.

“Let’s stick to the woods and keep going. It may take us longer than expected to get home, but at least we can stay hidden.”

“Okay,” I agree with him.

As we start walking I notice he’s limping again, it’s then I realize that he’s not just talking about the detour making our trip longer. He doesn’t say anything to me, but he must have re-injured his ankle while he was dragging me through the woods.

We walk, weaving between the tree trunks until the sun starts to set low in the sky. There are no low branches here, just soft earth beneath our feet and branchless tree trunks. Some are thick with dense crusty bark, others as thin as my index finger, all shooting towards the sky. The sound of thunder rumbles in the distance and I can hear raindrops falling on the leaves high above us.

“I think we’re going to have to stop soon,” I tell Adam as my stomach grumbles loudly.

“Just a little bit further,” he urges me on.

I follow him. Not because I want to keep walking but because he is my travel partner and I have to trust that he has some sort of a plan. Plus, I don’t want to be left in the woods. At night. Alone.

The sun has set further and the forest is almost completely dark now. I have a hard time seeing Adam with his dark clothes. When the last bit of light dips below the tree line I can no longer see him. I begin to wonder if he really does have any type of a plan or if he’s just wandering. The thought of being alone in the woods at night causes my heart to pound harder in my chest. I walk faster, stumbling until I smack into something hard, hitting the side of my head. At first I think it’s a tree trunk, but then I feel hands grip around my shoulders, stopping me from falling over.

“Are you ok?” Adam asks.

“Uh, sorry,” I respond, looking up. I can barely see his face above me.

“We should camp here. There’s enough branches and brush to start a small fire, no one should be able to see the smoke or the light through the thick trees. We should be safe.”

“No offense, but I’d rather not sleep on the ground.”

“Oh, so what are you going to do?”

I look around for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, and then I see it. Like a miracle, there is a tree house built into a huge willow tree with long, sweeping branches, and it’s almost completely hidden. “I’m going to climb that tree.”

Adam laughs. “Oh yeah, well, have fun with that. Do you know what it’s like sleeping in a tree?  I’ll make sure to check your pulse in the morning when I find your body on the ground.” A deep laugh erupts from his chest.

“Actually, Chuckles,” I respond, “I think I see the perfect branch.” I point up a few hundred feet away. Adam follows my gaze to the tree with the tree house.

“Nice,” he responds.

We walk towards the tree house. Once we are standing underneath it I notice that the ladder is actually rough two-by-four boards hammered into the trunk. I reach for the first step, struggling with the bag on my shoulder. Adam walks up behind me.

“Let me take the bag, you climb first,” he offers.

I pass it to him and continue to climb. The willow tree is large and the rungs of the rough ladder that’s hammered into the trunk are spaced far apart. I struggle reaching some of the steps with my short legs. When I finally get to the base of the tree fort I haul myself up, trying to use the muscles of my arms to pull my body up. Adam follows close behind me, pushing on my feet as they dangle at the opening.

I can see that the tree house is spacious and large. It looks nothing like the tree forts we used to build as kids with uneven boards and half hammered nails. This is large and circular, wrapping around the thick trunk of the tree. This looks professional. There’s a smooth floor, open areas for windows and a roof. A small bunk is built into the far wall, cupboards, a rough hewn table and chair.

“Is this where you sing ‘Jackpot’ again?” Adam asks.

I ignore him. I hold out my hand, waiting for my bag. He passes it to me and I sit down on the floor. I pull out the bottle of soda, the bagel and apples. I hand half of the bagel and an apple to Adam.

“You know, you could be a little more grateful. After all, I have healed you, put a roof over your head and fed you dinner.” I hold my hands open, palms up, expectantly.

“Thanks, Mom,” he responds laughing.

“Not funny,” I tell him. “And just for that, I will not share this bottle of refreshing, warm, flat soda with you. I hope you don’t choke on that bagel.”

He laughs louder.

I begin to hear the heavy patter of rain on the roof and the deep grumble of thunder in the sky. I wait for leaks to break through the wooden ceiling, but like another miracle it remains dry inside.

“Well, so much for a fire up here. At least we’ll be protected from the rain but I hope it doesn’t get too cold tonight.”

“Don’t worry I have that covered too.” I rummage through my bag for the reflective blanket I took from the back of my Jeep. I pull it out and shake it open. It is large, but not quite large enough for two strangers to share.

“You want to share that?” He asks.

I shrug at him. “Or you could sleep on that cold bunk.”

“No, I’m saying you would sleep next to a stranger?”

“I don’t think we are complete strangers anymore,” I tell him, “Besides, I know you’re not going to try anything.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because my husband will hunt you down and kill you,” I tell him, as seriously as I can. “I’m going to get some sleep.” I push my bag under my head to use as a pillow. Reaching into the opening I pull out the little owl of Lina’s and rub its soft fur. The blanket leaves about a foot of space between us. I have never slept this close to another man except for Ian. “Goodnight,” I tell Adam, as I hear him trying to get comfortable on the smooth wood floor next to me.

Sleeping in a tree fort next to a man I barely know is not easy. And I was hoping the exhaustion of walking all day would push me into a deep sleep, but instead I wake up frequently. In the few moments that I do sleep, I dream of Ian and Lina. But not the pleasant dreams that one would wake refreshed from. Instead they are dark, shadowy, and I seem to be searching for something but I can never seem to find what I am looking for.

The most vivid dream of the night leaves me waking in tears: I’m running through my house searching for Lina, and when I do find her it’s in the dark musty basement and she’s hiding behind our old heating oil boiler. But for some reason she is older than when I left her a few days ago. Instead of a young child she resembles a tall teenager with long curly hair and dark rimmed glasses. Even though I barely recognize her in my dream, I still pull her into my arms, sobbing into her long dark hair. When I breathe in the scent of strawberries I know without a doubt that she is my daughter and I have finally found her. I am finally home.

--

When I wake up the air feels heavy and damp. There is no bright morning sunlight, just the continuous patter of rain on the roof. I wipe at my face, trying to get rid of the evidence of my bad dreams. When I finally sit up, I see Adam is leaning up against the trunk of the tree looking out into the forest. He looks relaxed with his arm resting on his bent knee, his shoulder pulling the sleeve of his T-shirt up and revealing a small Marine Corps tattoo on his upper arm.

“Look what I found.” He smiles and waves his arm at the floor beside him. Lying on the floor is a leather bag, some canned food, a bag of crackers, plates, and two cups.

“Where did you find that?” He points to the cupboard on the far wall. “Are you sure you should take this stuff? It’s kind of like stealing.” I scan the wall and see what I couldn’t in last night’s darkness; it’s decorated with a variety of weapons-bows, arrows, and spears–all attached to the wall. This can’t belong to a child; it looks like the fanciest tree stand I’ve ever seen.

“I think whoever this stuff belongs to has bigger problems right now.” Adam replies. My stomach growls loudly. “Sounds like you’re hungry too.”

“Ok,” I resign, “let’s eat.”

Adam uses the army knife from his boot to open the cans. There’s corn and peaches in the cans, and the crackers look stale. He divides up the food on the plates and I set the cups on the windowsills to catch rain water. I can see a thick layer of muddy water covering the forest floor. Since there’s only one chair, we sit on the floor across from each other. The sleepless, dream filled night has left me feeling tired and miserable.

Adam watches the rain for a minute. “I think we’re going to have to wait out the rain,” he says between mouthfuls of food.

I was afraid of this happening today. We are so close to home. I’m sure he can see the disappointment on my face. I stand up and look out the rough wooden framed window. The forest floor remains flooded with at least an inch of water. A large frog croaks from the base of a nearby tree. My stomach sinks as I see dozens of frogs swimming and hopping along the flooded forest floor.

“I guess you’re right. We can’t walk in this.” I walk back to where I was sitting and throw myself on the floor, disappointed.

“Have you always lived in Phoenix?” Adam asks.

I nod my head yes and give him a shortened version of my life. I tell him about Sam and how our parents died. I ask him why he became a Marine. He explains to me he wanted to protect people, keep them safe. We talk about our lives between the long stretches of silence where we turn to watch the rain and listen to the thunder. We are out of food and by evening and both of our stomachs are audibly growling.

I pull out the newspaper from the hotel and skim through it, trying to pass the time. The last page is filled with election editorials. People writing in, discussing the Reformation Party. Some think it’s just what this country needs. Others are afraid that they are going to turn the country into a dictatorship. I give up on the paper, too consumed with getting home to absorb any of it. I hold it out, offering it to Adam. He takes the paper and reads it intently.

The rain has stopped, but when I look out the windows the forest floor is still flooded.

“Morning then?” Adam asks me. I know it’s not really a question or a suggestion, we can’t walk through all that water.

“I guess.”

I stand and pace the large tree house, looking out all the windows. As I near the window on the far wall near the single bunk, I notice a herd of deer walking through the forest. Adam must notice too because I hear him walk slowly to the window next to me.

“Can you believe they are out in this weather?” I ask turning my head to look at him. “Adam, what are you doing?” I whisper harshly.

He’s standing at the window with the bow and arrow from the wall, prepped and ready to shoot. “I’m hungry,” he responds quietly, his body is rigid, steady, “and so are you.”

“I’m not going to eat a whole deer. Stop! We will have all the food we can eat tomorrow.  We’re almost home.” He’s ignoring me, focusing, looking for the right moment to release the arrow and kill one of the deer quickly. “Adam!” I start to raise my voice. “Stop, please. You can’t kill them.” He continues to ignore me, the muscle in his jaw tense. I raise my voice, enough to scare the deer off. “Adam, stop!” There’s the quick thud of hoof beats across the wet ground. I watch the deer run off, out of range of Adam’s bow.

“Did you seriously just sabotage my kill? We could have gorged for dinner and had food for tomorrow while we travel.” His voice is stern and angry as he walks back to the hooks on the wall and replaces the bow and arrow.

“We didn’t need a whole deer. We’ll have food in the morning.”

“I hope you’re happy that you got to save Bambi. I could have eaten half that animal myself.” He kicks over the small chair by the wall, pouting, before he reaches down and rights the chair.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your life over one little deer.” He doesn’t respond. I reach into my bag, remembering the field guide I brought to work the other night. “Here, I have this guide on edible plants.” I hold the book out to him.

“No thanks,” he tells me as he walks to the other side of the tree trunk where I can’t see him.

I decide to go to bed early. I cover myself with the blanket, and push my bag under my head. I pull out Lina’s owl and hold it to my chest. I close my eyes, feigning sleep. It’s not long before I hear Adam lay down next to me. And for the second night in a row, I sleep next to a man who is not my husband.

--

Morning comes early, this time with sunlight and chirping songbirds. I’m not sure if Adam was already awake, but  he sits up just as I do. I walk to the window and see that the ground is mostly dry. I pack quickly, eager to leave. We barely speak, both of us eager to get home.

Just before we head down the ladder to leave I stop. “Oh, wait, I have an idea.” I reach into my bag and pull out the field guide on edible plants then walk over to the empty cupboard; I leave it on the bare shelf. Now I feel a little less guilty for using the tree house stock.

We leave the tree fort behind. We have no food or water. Adam must still be mad over the deer because he makes no effort to start a conversation with me. So we walk in silence until I can hear the fast rush of the river nearby. We must be near the entrance to town.

“I’m going to check the road,” Adam tells me.

I follow him to the tree line, knowing instantly where we are once the shrubbery is out of the way. We are at the point where the river runs parallel to the road and follows it into town, about a mile from the main entrance to Phoenix.

Adam creeps through the tall grass on his stomach. Right before he gets to the road he stops and looks around. I can see the furrowed wrinkle in his brow as he turns and waves me to come out to him. I try to mimic his crawl and do a wretched job at it. I’m sure I look like a fish out of water, flopping feverishly on a riverbank. When I reach him he says nothing about my pathetic stomach crawl, instead he points towards the town. I follow the direction of his hand with my gaze.

“Oh crap,” I utter.

A few hundred yards in front of us there is a large wall made of stone. It’s not complete but it extends past each side of the road. We can see people working near the edges of the wall. We crawl back to the cover of the forest. We decide to go around the main entrance, staying within the forest and keeping a safe distance from where the people are working. I must be making too much noise since Adam hushes me more than once as we walk.

The people on the main road are carrying supplies or pushing wheelbarrows filled with bricks. All of them seem to be wearing the same clothes: dark red tops and pants. It’s strange, there’s no socializing, there are no groupings of people standing around and talking. Instead they’re all working methodically as if they are driven by some unknown desire to build the cement wall.

We stay within the tree line. Sprinting through open fields each time there is a break in the forest. We pass behind the county jail. Next is the local cemetery, the largest in the area. There are some large old trees that might provide us with cover, but I am afraid it’s not enough and we might get caught being out in the open. I argue with Adam to take a different way in, but he’s adamant about crossing through the cemetery. Once we get past the jail we wait in the tree line. Throughout this leg of the trip Adam’s whole demeanor has changed; the muscles in his neck are now tight and his jaw clenched.

“What’s wrong?”I whisper to him.

“There is something I have to do.” He pulls a yellow piece of paper from his pocket and starts walking towards the middle of the cemetery.

“Adam!” I yell to him.

He doesn’t stop or turn around or explain, he just keeps walking. I follow him, slowly at first, looking around the graveyard to make sure no one there to notice us. It’s late morning now with the sun high in the sky and we’re out in the open-deer in the meadow, easy targets.

He heads for the large mausoleum then stops to look at the note in his hand. I try to keep up with him but he is too tall, his stride too long for my short legs. As I get closer to him he turns to the left, walking swiftly and looking around. Finally he stops. I walk up next to him, my feet sinking slightly into the soft ground.

“Adam, what are you…” I follow his gaze.

In front of us are three gravestones. The first two are simply arched smooth gray stone, the third is larger and more elaborate with three angels perched on top. The dirt in front of them is disturbed, the grass seeds still visible. I read the names:

Jim Waters

Margaret Waters

Samantha Waters

The dates of death are from two months ago, all on the same day.

“Oh no,” I start, but when I turn to Adam his head is already in his hands, and he is sinking down to the ground on his knees. This is his family. I’m not sure what to say or do. I simply lay my hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper to him before I walk away to sit cross-legged under one of the large oak trees just a few feet from him.

This whole time I’ve been so selfish, only worrying about my family. I never thought of Adam’s family. He never once indicated that they were dead. He spoke of them as though they were all still alive and well, waiting for his proud return from Germany.

I wait patiently under the oak tree, glad that no one has noticed us. In the distance I can see the people working on the wall, milling about like ants. Somehow each of them knows their task. I observe a few guards walking on the other side of the wall watching the road from the south, as though they might be expecting someone. They’re wearing dark gray uniforms and carrying long guns on their shoulders. They don’t look like police, or army, or any enforcement agency I’ve ever seen.

As I sit here, I conclude that there was definitely no nuclear meltdown or none of these people would be working so hard. They would be suffering from radiation poisoning, lying in their homes with blood pouring out of their noses and ears, vomiting, and screaming when clumps of their hair fell out on their pillows. Something else is going on here.

I shift my gaze back towards Adam. His face is no longer buried in his hands; he takes a few deep breaths before rising and wiping at his eyes. He turns and walks towards me, the knees of his pants stained dark brown from the freshly disturbed graveyard soil.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I start.

“I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want it to be true. I just had to see them one last time so I could move on I guess.” He pauses for a moment before he looks into my eyes, fiercely determined. “Let’s get you back to your family.”

I tell him where I live and oddly enough his parents’ house is a few blocks from mine. We stay off the main road, walking behind the graveyard. Now there is a large embankment that helps conceal us from the road. There’s more forest and a few hundred feet of open tall grass before we scale a large hill. We look at each other when we hear the low dense whistle of a train again. When we reach the top of the hill I can see the town, the roofs of the houses, and the tree lined streets where my house is.

“Where is everyone?” Adam asks.

Slowly, we venture onto Grenadier Street. Here the oak trees are tall and old; their canopies hang over the street creating a tunnel of light green.

“There are no cars,” I whisper to Adam.

We walk another block. Then I can see it. The small front porch lined with hibiscus bushes, their flower buds ready to burst with bright pinks and purples signaling the start of summer. There’s the green front door and roof.

I start running, my bag smacking my back in a steady drum. I’m holding my breath with excitement. For four long days, this is what I have been waiting for; to be home, to see my family again, to hug and kiss Ian, to squeeze my little Lina in my arms and breathe in the strawberry scent of her hair.  Tears start forming in the corners of my eyes, my heart thumps heavily with anticipation. I run up onto the porch and reach for the front door. Twisting the handle, I find it’s unlocked. I push the door a little too hard and hear it hit the wall, cracking the drywall.

“Ian? Lina?” I shout. I look around the living room and the kitchen. I run up the stairs and search the bedrooms. Empty. It’s all empty. I walk back through the living room into the kitchen; Adam walks in the front door, inspecting the damage to the wall behind it.

Standing there I notice Stevie, lying on her dog bed. She barely moves when I call her name, just opening her eyes and peering at me sadly. I walk to her, calling her name, but she doesn’t get up. When I pet her I can feel her bones protruding from underneath her skin. Her muzzle, which is usually dripping with drool, is dry. I pet her and pull up her top lip noticing that her gums are pale and dry. Her food and water bowls are sitting next to her dog bed, empty.

“Oh, Stevie.” I pick up her bowls and carry them to the sink.  Please work, please work... When I turn on the cold water it sputters for a moment before the water rushes out. I fill up Stevie’s water bowl then open the cupboard under the sink and get her dog food. I pour her bowl full, almost overflowing before I set both bowls next to her. Slowly she reaches over and drinks greedily from the water bowl.

“Andie, you need to see this.” Adam startles me. He’s standing at the island counter with a piece of paper in his hand.

“What is it?” I walk towards him as he hands me a piece of paper.

Andie,

If you are home wait for us. Don’t worry. We will be there soon.

~Ian

I recognize Ian’s neat handwriting and signature. But he didn’t date the note. I can only hope that he wrote it recently.

“I think I’m going to get cleaned up before they get home,” I say, turning to Adam.

He’s watching Stevie drink from her dog bowl. “Ok. I want to go check out my parents’ house.” He tells me.

“I’ll go with you then.” I tell him, almost afraid to be here alone.

“No, stay here, It’s only two blocks away. I’ll be right back. I promise.” I look into his light blue eyes, it seems like he is telling me the truth. I just don’t want to admit that I have no desire to be alone right now.

“Fine,” I respond curtly. “I’m locking the doors, though.”

“Good. I’ll knock three times when I get back.”

Then Adam is walking out of my front door and I’m locking the deadbolt into place. The house is empty and eerie. I try to get Stevie to go upstairs with me so I don’t have to be alone, but she’s too weak from what appears to be days without food or water.

Finally I give up and head up the stairs. I shower, quicker than I would like to. The hot steam feels nice as it strips the dried sweat and dirt off of me. I wrap myself in a towel and head to the bedroom. All of my familiar things are here; my clothes, hairbrush, toothbrush, but it feels strange in the absence of Ian and Lina.

I brush my teeth and look in my closet. It’s still quite warm so I settle on a pair of dark brown pants, a white layered top and leather sandals. When I’m done my stomach grumbles. I realize it's early afternoon and the last time I ate was yesterday morning in the tree house. As I walk down the stairs I hear three faint knocks on the heavy wooden front door. I open it slowly and see Adam looking around the side of the porch, into the back yard. I open the door wide to let him in, feeling a little safer now that he’s returned.

He’s changed from his muddy clothes into a fresh pair of jeans, a blue checkered button down shirt and light green jacket, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s shaved the three day stubble off and the face of a very attractive man is starting to appear from underneath the bruises. He smells like sandalwood, leather and a hint of spice. And if I didn’t know better I’d say he’d stepped right out of the pages of a fashion magazine. “You clean up nice,” I tell him. He smiles a little. It’s obvious this revelation is not new to him.

“I was just about to make something to eat. Are you hungry?” He nods and we head to the kitchen.

I want to ask about his parents’ house but the image of him crouched at the gravestones of his family is forged in my mind. I think he has experienced enough grief for one day.

I open the refrigerator, knowing that when I left a few days ago it was packed with vegetables, milk, yogurt, condiments, and leftover meals. Now as the door swings to my side and the hum of the condenser kicks on, all I see is emptiness. I close the fridge and open the cupboards, starting with the pantry, then the bread drawer, but it’s all empty.

I turn to Adam.

“It’s the same way at my house. All the cupboards were empty. All except for one.” He points to the last cupboard which I haven’t checked yet. It’s where we keep the plates and glasses; there wouldn’t be any food in there. I open the cupboard. Instead of shelves packed with dishes there are rows of neatly packed cans with simple white labels on them: Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner. I reach for one of the cans labeled “Lunch.”

“Were these at your parents’ house also?” I ask Adam, inspecting a can in my hand.

“Yes. But I didn’t open them.”

The can has a tab to pull up on. I pull it open. Inside is a brown gelled slab of mystery sludge. The substance is odorless. I’m not sure what it is, but I know that I can’t eat it. Still, I pull a fork out of the cupboard and poke at it. Stevie whines from her dog bed. When I look up, I see she’s watching us. Adam has walked closer to me to observe the canned substance. I hand the can to him. “I can’t eat that. I’m starving right now. But I can’t eat whatever that is.” I point to the can and crinkle my nose. Then I remember the garden. I walk out the back door that’s off the kitchen. The garden bed is still there and the plants are still heavy with small baby fruit.

“Are you sure this is safe to eat?” Adam asks me as I start pulling the baby cucumbers off one of the vines.

I stand up and look around. There’s a gray squirrel on top of the garage and in its front paws is a cucumber. “If the animals are alive and well after eating it, I’m sure we will be fine.” I reach down and pluck more cucumbers off the vine in front of me. Adam walks over to help. He’s found some small ripe tomatoes, a few tiny squash, and some strawberries. We bring the harvest inside and I wash everything off with water from the tap. The cucumbers are crisp, the strawberries tart and sweet. For a moment, it’s the best meal I have ever eaten.

From the corner of the room Stevie starts to whine. She anxiously looks towards the front door. Adam and I stand up simultaneously walking towards the front window. What we see is a stark contrast to what we have experienced during the past few days together.

Where the roads and town was once empty and desolate, now a steady stream of people walk down the center of the street. Adam follows me out onto the front porch. None of them seem to notice us. Every few people that pass I start to recognize. Our neighbors from a few houses down, the old man that mows his lawn every Sunday, a girl I went to high school with. I want to wave and shout “hello” but none of them look our way. They look straight ahead, turning only to enter their homes. I look up the street to see the stream of people start to thin out. Then I see him. I wait for a minute, wanting to make sure it truly is him. But his hair is shorter, and his clothes are strange. But the instant I see his deep brown eyes I know it is him, my Ian.

“Ian! Ian!” I shout. Then I am running off the front porch and down our driveway. He’s just a few yards ahead of me and I knock into a few people on the street as I rush to greet him. “Ian!” I shout again.  I’m almost to him; he is walking towards me and when he is within an arm’s reach I leap into the air and throw my arms around his neck. “Oh my God Ian, I was so afraid I’d never see you again.” I squeeze him so tight my arms ache.

He sputters something through my kisses. My lips pressed so hard against his mouth that I can feel the straight row of teeth behind his front lip. At last his arms cross tight behind my back, carrying me. I can feel the tears streaming out of the corners of my eyes.

“I love you, Ian,” I whisper between our kisses. “I was so scared I’d never see you again,” I tell him as he carries me back to our house and up the front porch steps. I hear the door open then close behind us. He sets me down in the living room. I’m bursting with energy and joy, so happy to finally be home, to finally see him. “Ian what happened here?” I don’t give him a chance to answer. I’m asking him more questions and talking about our journey home on foot. I barely notice the front door opening and Adam stepping inside the living room. I keep talking and talking, more than I have ever talked before. Then it hits me, Lina. “Ian? Where is Lina?” I ask. In my feverish rehashing of the past day’s events I barely noticed Ian was just standing there in front of me. Not talking or interjecting or asking me questions like he normally would. “Ian!” I ask him again. “Where is Lina?” He stares at me blankly. I replay what just happened in my mind. There is complete silence in the living room except for the heavy ringing in my ears. This is not right. I look behind Ian to Adam. He’s just standing there watching us.

“Ian! What’s wrong with you?” I ask. “Why aren’t you answering me?” Then I realize I’m yelling at him, repeating myself over and over again.

“They took her,” he finally answers.

“What do you mean,” I can barely choke the rest of the sentence out, “they took her? Who?”

“She’s not here anymore. They took her. They told me to tell you she is safe.” His response is robotic, monotone and sounds nothing like Ian. This is not the Ian I left a few days ago. This is not the Ian that would do anything to protect our little girl.

“Ian!” I’m screaming at him now. “Where is she? Where is Lina?”

“They took her-” he starts to repeat again, but I interrupt him.

“No!” I yell at him. “What did you do? You let someone take her?” I fling myself across the room at Ian, and then I am hitting him, shaking him, pounding on his chest, trying to get him to wake up from whatever stupor he is in. “You are her father!” I choke out, frantic. I feel strong arms wrap around my stomach, picking me up, but I kick and scream and claw at Ian. “You were supposed to protect her! She’s just a baby!” I want to beat the answers out of him. I want him to wake up from this nightmare. I want things to go back to the way they were, the three of us, happy and together. Adam is dragging me away and I can see red marks across Ian’s face, on his neck. It doesn’t stop me from kicking and screaming more. Adam grunts a few times and I’m sure it’s because I have kicked him in my hysteria.

chapter eight

I can hear them talking, Adam and Ian, downstairs in the dining room. I sit at the top of the stairwell, barely able to make out what they’re saying. The deepness of both of their voices is too low for me to hear from this far away. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop crying.  I can’t get over the fact that my little girl is missing. And Ian let it happen. I try to put the pieces together; the earthquake, the false reports of a nuclear meltdown, the fence and brick wall being built around the city, the strange way all the people seem to be acting, especially Ian.  But I can’t make sense of any of it. All I know is this person in my dining room is not my Ian.

It’s not the strong man I married right out of high school. I know this. We went through college together, we’ve been married for six years, and we’ve struggled since Lina was born, but he’s always promised that he would protect us. No, this is definitely not my Ian.

The one thing I know for certain is that someone took my daughter, and I’m not sure I can ever forgive Ian for not stopping them and protecting her.

Stevie is slowly walking up the stairs towards me. She must have regained enough energy to get out of her bed. She lies down next to me, nudging her muzzle under my arm. I can’t stop the tears leaking out of my eyes. I lean my head against the wall and listen to their mumbling talk.

Sometime later, someone is carrying me. I don’t have the strength to open my eyes and I don’t much care. I feel the softness of a mattress beneath me, then the heaviness of someone lying next to me. At first I am afraid of whom it is, until I feel the rough tongue that licks my cheek, Stevie. A blanket is placed over us. It smells like detergent and lavender fabric softener. I know that we are in the empty guest room of the house. I keep my eyes closed, because I can’t bear to look at this new reality that has taken over my life.

I dream of Lina. What she looked like as a newborn. How excited her face was every morning when she got up. Happy and brave and ready to experience more of this fascinating world I brought her into. I watch her grow to one, two, three, four, and five, bringing her to school, cooking, Christmas, Easter, remembering all of her milestones, her digging on the beach during vacation. I don’t want to wake up. I want to spend every second I can with her because I know she will not be here with me when I open my eyes. I will not see her smiling face or her crooked baby toothed smile.

But I do wake up. Stevie is there to lick my cheek. I roll over and see a figure on the floor. My vision is blurry, and after a few moments I see that it is Adam sleeping on the floor near the bedroom door. I stand up and tiptoe silently out of the room heading to the bathroom. Flicking on the light I stare at myself in the mirror. I have never known what it is like to feel numbness and stabbing, gut wrenching pain at the same time. I lean in close to the mirror. The reflection is still me, but my eyes are bloodshot and red rimmed. My hair is in wild disarray around my head. There is a crusted white trail of old tears dried by my left ear.

“Clean yourself up.” I whisper to myself in the mirror. I repeat the steps to myself: Get a washcloth, run the water, wash your face, brush your teeth, wash your hands. After a few minutes I look a little better, but the terrible feeling inside my heart still lingers. I leave yesterday’s clothes on.

When I open the bathroom door, Adam and Stevie are standing in the hallway, both leaning against the wall. I say nothing to them. Instead I turn and head downstairs to the kitchen. I turn the coffee pot on, then off, remembering that there is nothing here except canned mystery sludge. I walk out the back door and sit on the back porch swing. Stevie and Adam follow me without a sound. The swing squeaks a little as I rock it. Stevie walks off the porch to check the corners of the yard. She does her doggie business and returns to my side. I stare off at the early morning clouds; I watch the birds flitting in the tall oak trees. From the corner of my eye I see that Adam is at the garden bed, picking something. The back door closes and opens again a few moments later. Adam sets a bowl of baby cucumbers and strawberries in my lap.

Eat, I tell myself.

Finally Adam breaks the silence. “I talked with Ian last night, for a long time.” I don’t respond. I keep watching the birds high in the trees. Adam must know I’m listening because he continues. “He’s not right. Eventually he started to talk about what happened, and he said that they would find us,” he pauses for a moment. “Then he ate that canned food, devoured it like it was a steak dinner. Afterwards he went back to his flat affect and minimal words act. I don’t know what to think of it. But I definitely wouldn’t eat whatever is in those cans. Then he just got up and went to bed. And this morning he just got ready and left like nothing happened, like we weren’t even here. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

I’m remembering how Ian would kiss me goodbye early each morning while I slept. I’m using all the energy I have left not to burst into tears again. I stare at the songbirds, I eat my breakfast. My gaze shifts to a neighbor’s garage and that’s when I see two ravens standing on the roof. They’re watching us, cocking their heads to the side, blinking their beady black eyes.

--

We remain on the porch until afternoon. This is the first day that we haven’t heard the train whistle or helicopters in the sky. We sit, mourning the family members that we’ve recently lost. Stevie perks up her ears and starts whining, looking at the door. Adam and I both get up and walk inside. There is a heavy knocking on the front door, it crescendos over a few seconds, turning into a full blown pounding.

“Don’t answer it,” I tell Adam, reaching out to stop him, but it’s too late. His hand is already on the doorknob, turning it. He stops for an instant to look at me and someone shoves the door open from the outside, hard, knocking Adam back onto the floor. He lands with a loud thud on his side, shaking the pictures on the wall. Suddenly, there are a handful of men in my living room. They’re all dressed in dark gray uniforms, pistols strapped to their hips. The last to come through is a large dark man with a silver pin on his lapel in the shape of some kind of a bird. He looks straight at me.

“Andie Somers.” It is not a question. He knows who I am. “You’re coming with us.” His voice is deep, slow and southern.

I’ve heard his voice before, in the basement of the hospital.

A few men head towards Adam and some start walking towards me. Panic and fear and the uncontrollable urge to run consumes me. Stevie starts barking, a vicious bark, which I have never heard her utter before.

“Control the mutt or we will put it down for you,” the large man with the bird pin commands as he reaches for the pistol at his hip.

“St... Stop,” I stutter out. “Stevie, go lay down.” She looks at me and then back at the men, whining. She listens, leaving the room. As I watch her lay down on her dog bed I feel the grasp of hands around both of my upper arms.

I’m not sure if these men intended for me to walk, but I am mostly dragged to the waiting black SUVs in front of my house. They drag me towards the first SUV. I turn to see the other group of men leading Adam towards another SUV.

“Wait, where are you taking him? Stop!” I start to struggle against the hands wrapped around my arms, but the door to the SUV is open and they are shoving me inside. I land on my side and kick the window as they close the door. There’s a caged partition separating the front seats from the back. Two of the men get in the front. I turn to see the SUV behind us where Adam is, and the large dark man with the pin is getting into the passenger side. “What are you doing with us?” I ask the men in the front. Neither of them answers.

The streets are empty once again as they drive me through town. We pass the park where I would bring Lina after school. No children play there today. But there is one man near the swings, dressed in dark red with a hat, rummaging through a toolbox. Similar to the people we saw working on the great wall at the outskirts of the city.

We are the only vehicles on the road. The first running vehicles I’ve seen in days. They drive us down Main Street, across the larger of the two bridges which pass over the river, dividing the city. I see more people in red uniforms, working on the bridge, taking down street signs, pulling weeds from the cracks in the sidewalks. They drive to the west side of town, to the edge, almost outside of the town limits. Then they turn onto the long road leading to the State University that sits on the lake shore. I haven’t been here in years, not since I graduated. Everything looks familiar still, but there are two new buildings, and some of the older ones have been painted. The driver pulls up to the main entrance of Culkin Hall which is the main campus building and the tallest. It houses the offices of the president and vice president, the financial aid offices and admission offices of the university. I turn around and look out the large cargo area window. The SUV that Adam was in is no longer there.

The door opens and hands reach in to pull me out. I try slapping at them, but one of the men grips me hard around my upper arm and jerks me from the vehicle. A pain in my shoulder shoots upwards toward my neck, and I am afraid he will dislocate it if I keep struggling so I stop and let them drag me inside the main doors. They take me to the elevator and push the button for the ninth floor, where the presidential offices are. I try to walk fast and keep up with the men at each of my shoulders.  But I have to keep skipping steps. I can feel their hands already leaving bruises on my upper arms.

There are dull gray cubicles on each side of the large office, all empty, except the last row, where two men and two women sit at computers. They are engrossed in whatever they’re doing, not bothering to look up as we pass. We enter a long office at the end of the hallway where there is a small conference table and some chairs. The men deposit me in an office chair and place Velcro straps around my arms. They leave me and I am alone for only an instant before the door opens again and an old man walks in. He’s carrying a metal box, which he sets on the table next to me. Clicking open the clasps on the sides, he pulls out straps and wires, then feeds lined paper into the side of the box.

I have watched enough TV to know that this must be a lie detector machine. The old man looks at me, smiling kindly; he seems out of place with these people. He wraps the straps around my arms and chest. Working diligently, without talking, he sits across from me when he is done. I hear the hum of the machine as it’s turned on, the soft clicks of buttons being pushed, the faint scrape of ink being etched across rough paper.

The door opens and more people enter the room, the large dark man with the bird pin. Behind him, two more people enter the room, a short man with wild orange hair and…

Adam.

He’s wearing the same gray uniform as the men who took us from my house. And he too has a pistol on his hip. I glare at him, trying to get his attention, but he won’t look at me. I feel betrayed, angered beyond belief. As the guard standing outside pulls the door closed, my heart thumps loudly in the silence of the large room.

“Ah, you must be Andromeda.” The short man with orange hair walks towards me, holding his hand out to greet me. When I don’t move my arms he looks down and see’s that they are strapped to the chair. “Well this isn’t very pleasant.” He bends to undo the Velcro straps from my arms, leaving the detector leads in place. His hair is so bright it looks as though it has been dyed, and when he bends in front of me I can see the tight cork screw curls which give his hair the fluffed appearance. He releases my arms and holds his hand out to greet me again. He smells sweet and musky, it makes my stomach churn.

“Who are you?” I ask. I make no attempt to raise my hand and greet him.

“My name is Burton Crane. We will be spending a lot of time together. That is, if you participate. Now, please answer my question. I’m sure you know we need to set a baseline for the detector.” He smiles. I watch him, furious. His skin is pale, dotted with red freckles. He’s dressed nicely in a black suit, wearing an obnoxious bright yellow tie. Finally he drops his hand. “Are you Andromeda Somers?” He repeats.

“Yes.” I respond through gritted teeth. I glare at Adam, and finally he looks at me. I’m not sure why I bothered to trust him in the first place. But I did, and look where it got me. The man with the orange hair runs through a deluge of questions. Stating where I live, where I work, who my parents were, how they died-he knows entirely too much about me.

“Are you married to Ian Somers?” he asks.

“Yes.” I look at the floor trying to hide the pain of yesterday.

“You have a daughter, Catalina Somers?” I glare back at him. He must know where she is, and I have a feeling he is about to use her to get whatever information he wants out of me.

“Where is she? I want to see her now!”

“She’s safe. Let’s continue.”

But I don’t want to continue. I want to know where my daughter is. I want to see her. “I want to see her now!” I demand.

“In time, Andromeda,” He continues. “You hold degrees in genetics and nursing?” I glare at him, squeezing my lips together, refusing to talk. “If you choose not to participate, Andromeda, I will have to place you in a holding cell. It’s unfortunate really and I’m sure neither of us wants that. Now, answer the question.”

“Yes.”

“That’s a strange combination don’t you think?” He pauses. “You were one of two people to graduate from Phoenix University. You even secured a research job before you graduated in a genetic research lab. Why did you leave?” His demeanor is starting to change; he’s playing some strange good cop, bad cop game. “Andromeda?”

These are exactly the type of questions I dislike, why I usually don’t bother telling anyone about my other degree. “I left because I was tired of being managed by pompous bigots who didn’t think a woman belonged in the lab.” I remember their snide remarks, their leering gazes, their constant arguments over my findings and reports. It still makes my blood boil.

“Did you know that they were never able to fill your position after you left?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t. Anyone could have done that job.”

“Do you know that the lab lost all their funding not long after you left?”

That was a surprise. I shake my head no.

“You are not as easily replaced as you may think. That lab was never able to find another person who could do what you did. You taught yourself how to manage genetic array programs created by the government, you taught yourself programming, and you had your own system that no one has been able to duplicate.” He starts walking towards me, pushing a chair. “And somehow your theories, the genetic pathways you discovered and theorized about, they all happened to be correct. We’ve used your data for years now since you left the lab to become a nurse, of all things.” He sits right in front of me, our knees almost touching. “We need your help, Andromeda.” He leans forwards looking closely into my face, his own pale green eyes boring into mine.

“Why should I help you?” I ask him. “You’ve ruined my family. You’ve taken my child from me, my husband. You’ve done something terrible to this town.”

“My Dear,” he reaches forward placing his cold hands on my arms. I lean back, anticipating some sort of pain, but he just pulls the detector leads off me. “Walk with me for a moment.” He holds onto the arm of the chair, spinning it around, waiting for me to stand. I notice he’s short, only three or four inches taller than I am. I follow him towards the large window, spanning the width of the room and at this height; almost the whole northern county can be seen.

“Take a look, Andromeda.”

My gaze follows to where his open hand points. My eyes follow the lakeshore, towards the nuclear power plants. There’s no steam coming from the three cooling towers, indicating that the nuclear reactors have, in fact, been shut down. I continue to search the nearby land until I see what he is indicating. Further to the north, not far from the lake, is a large charred circle of land where a small crater lies deep in the ground. The trees are gone-disintegrated-and radiating around the blackened area are downed trees, pushing out in all directions. The forest trees lie on the ground for miles, then gradually resume their normal stature.

“What happened?” I whisper.

“That my dear, is the point of impact of the non-nuclear electromagnetic pulse. Or what the media is referring to as the epicenter of the earthquake.”

I know he can see the disbelief on my face, my mouth gaping open. His face wears a smug smile.  Suddenly, it all makes sense; the power outages, how none of the electrical equipment would work, the stalled vehicles on the road. The electromagnetic pulse knocked them all out.

“But the newspaper said there was a meltdown. How did you prevent that, or didn’t you?” I ask him.

“Ha!” He claps his hands together, excitedly, “I knew you would be curious. These nuclear reactors have much more protection built around them, better than say, the reactors in Japan.  And the blast wasn’t strong enough to damage them.”

I stare, trying to process the information he has just given me. “Who is responsible for this? Terrorists?”

He smiles at me. “Oh, Andromeda, this situation is a far cry from terrorism. It is indeed something greater, better even.” He is much too excited talking about this, reminding me of a wound up school girl, his face overly animated.

“What are you talking about?”

“I would like to introduce you to a new society, a better society, an improved society. No longer will there be poverty, disease, depression, or indolence. Welcome to: The Phoenix District.” He tells me, proudly waving his arm out, spanning the window.

“What…?” I whisper.

This launches Crane into a lecture of modern society’s downfall, the corrupt government, corrupt healthcare system, the lack of jobs, and downfall of a corrupt stock market. The scary part is, it’s all true, every word of it, every person in the U.S. has been suffering from the worst recession since the Great Depression. “The leaders of this world are tired of watching this country spin out of control. It’s embarrassing really. More people are on public assistance than those who work. The population is at unrest. It’s blatantly evident; there have been uprisings, certain political groups have already started movements to overthrow the government. It’s time to move on Andromeda, it’s time for a better society. We can’t let things stay the way they are or it’s only going to get worse.”

I can barely believe what he is telling me, that this could actually happen where I live. “But this is the United States of America. What about the army, the government? You will never get away with this.” I argue with him.

“For someone so intelligent, you are certainly quite naïve. Your government is fully aware of this. Who do you think authorized it? Helped us sneak a bomb into the US territories? That EMP should have been blasted out of the sky thousands of miles away before it ever reached this area. Who do you think is keeping the populace away from here? Blocking travel? Feeding stories to the media? I know you’ve seen the papers, the barricades.” He gives me a moment to collect my thoughts before he continues. “After your president saw our results from the trial in Japan, he was more than impressed and ready to get the ball rolling here in the U.S.”

Japan? What happened in Japan? Then I remember. There was a tsunami that hit the shoreline of Japan, causing a meltdown to their two nuclear reactors. The last news report I saw the area was still off limits, a chain link fence equipped with barbed wire had been erected and patrolled by guards, guards in gray uniforms.

“But the people? What about all the people here? What have you done to them? To my husband? My daughter?” I’m trying to control the rising panic in my voice.

“Ah, this is where you come in, my dear. Currently, they are receiving a medication via their rations.” I remember the canned food in my cupboard. “To keep them calm, subdued, happy and most of all cooperative.”

“What kind of medication?”

“I really do enjoy these questions, you are so inquisitive. It’s a mixture of hormones, oxytocin and testosterone inhibitors. I’m sure you know that the oxytocin works to soothe the brain, overriding the amygdala, making it much less responsive to anger and fear. It makes them cooperative, subdued, malleable.” I can barely believe what I’m hearing. This man plans to take over the town and control everyone living here with these hormones. It sounds absolutely absurd. “But we need to do more,” he continues. “We need a full genetic analysis of the residents, selective breeding programs need to be initiated to prevent inbreeding and bring out certain traits in people, to ensure cooperation, so we can eliminate the medications.” He turns to me, eyebrows raised, making sure I’m taking all of this in.

I have to try and stop this. “You can’t do this. You’re talking about dissecting the human race, producing sub-breeds. We are not dogs!”

“How odd that you should bring up dogs, so you do realize that humans have been selectively breeding hundreds of species for hundreds of years. Dogs, cats, farm animals, even rats; each time getting closer to the perfect breed, the perfect species. This has been a long time coming; it’s amazing it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“But this is eugenics. It’s unethical, you would be no better than Hitler!” I try to control the panic in my voice. I look around the room, hoping for someone to speak up, to comment, but the room is silent, everyone listening to our conversation.

“Would you like to talk about ethics, Andromeda? How about the ethical treatment of patients, the ethical vow you took when you became a nurse.  How about we discuss patient abandonment?” I stare at him with horror on my face. “Obviously you have no problem breaking the rules of ethics when it comes to your family.”

Then, I hear from outside the door, the sound of a young child talking.

Lina!

Crane lightens his face. “Did you know that you have produced quite a gifted child?”

“What are you talking about? What did you do to her?” I can hear her talking outside the door. I start walking towards it but he reaches out, grabbing my wrist, stopping me.

“We did nothing to her, just a few tests. Did the school ever tell you her IQ results?” I shake my head no. “She scored very high. Genius level, actually. Usually, a child with her scores is also afflicted with social disorders and deficits. They’re medicated for acting out, for not being able to focus, or not being able to interact with other people. But somehow, not your child. I’m not sure how you did it. But your child is very important to us, as are you.”

Her school never said a thing to us about IQ testing. She has always just been a normal five year old; playing soccer, dressing up like a princess. Nothing has ever alerted us to be concerned about her development. I can hear her outside the door, chattering with someone.

“Is my mommy in there?” I hear her ask. Someone speaks to her in a low voice.

He pauses, watching me watch the door. “Do I have your cooperation?” He asks.

“I want her back!”

“Yes, I know. If you agree, we will discuss your conditions of work and her schooling and training.” His orange hair looks like a glowing halo with the setting sun over the lake, and I know I am about to make a deal with the devil.

“What about Ian?”

“Sadly, Andromeda, we can’t risk many people being off the medication right now. We can’t risk rebellion at this tender moment in the District’s organization. And it is my understanding that your reunion with Ian did not go very well.” My face flushes with embarrassment. The only people that knew about my hysteria were Ian and Adam.

“What are you going to do with him?”

“Unfortunately for you, Andromeda, you do not get a choice in the matter; you get to keep your daughter. Ian is no longer of your concern.” He smiles smugly at me.

“So you’re taking him from me and I’m supposed to be fine with that because you’re letting me have Catalina back?”

“Don’t worry, he won’t remember, and I’m sure in time you will move on.” He pauses, giving me only a short time to think, to decide between my daughter and my husband. He gives me just a few seconds to decide who I want to save. “Would you like to see your daughter now?”

My heart starts pounding again. She is just a child. She can’t take care of herself. In less than five minutes I make the hardest decision of my life. “Yes, give her to me.”

“Then I need to hear that we are in agreement.” He responds, smiling at me, tapping his fingertips together.

“Fine. I agree,” I respond through clenched teeth.

“Excellent.” He claps his hands together in excitement. “Let the child in,” he waves to Adam.

I hold my breath.

chapter nine

“Mommy?” Lina asks as the door opens. “Mommy, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” She giggles and runs to me. I scoop her up in my arms, squeezing her tight to my chest. I can barely talk through the tears as I set her down and look her over.

“Are you okay baby? Did anyone hurt you?” She’s wearing her favorite pink dress and pink sandals. “Are you hungry? Did they feed you?”

“Yes mommy. They even had my favorite. Mac and cheese, it was SO yummy!”

Oh no, the food, the medication. I look to Crane who is watching us.

“Don’t worry, she didn’t get the medication.” He answers without me asking.

I hug Lina again, burying my face in her hair, the scent of strawberries now gone. She giggles. “Mom you’re squishing me.”

“I’m just so happy to see you again,” I tell her.

And now, for the rest of my life, I know I will forever be judged as the wife who didn’t save her husband.

--

Crane provides a few details of our agreement before nightfall. I am to begin work in approximately three days while a lab is set up. We are assigned to student housing, and since I can’t go back to the home I shared with Ian, guards are sent to pack up the house and bring our things: clothes, toys, pictures and books. I request our dog, Stevie, be allowed to live with us and I am surprised when Crane agrees without argument.

A guard brings us to the local grocery store where we shop for food and supplies. After seeing the emptiness of my cupboards at home I’m amazed to find the grocery store is fully stocked. There are fresh fruits, vegetables, milk, and cereal. I stock up on our normal foods, staying away from anything canned. I grab a large bag of dog food for Stevie and new dog bowls. I decide to splurge and get two bags of coffee and filters. We see no one else at the store. It feels odd bagging up everything and walking out without paying.

As the guard drives we pass a sign pointing to the student housing. There are three rows of townhouses facing the lake, each having five units. We pull up to the middle townhouse. The guard gets out and opens the door for me. I turn to Lina and find that she has fallen asleep. I pull her into my arms and carry her towards the house. The guard retrieves the bags of groceries and proceeds to open the garage door. Stevie bounds out, running to us and licking my hand. I notice in the middle of the large garage is a pile of boxes, our belongings from home. We’re led up a set of steep stairs, which brings us into an open living area. There is a large kitchen, dining space, a living room, and a deck facing the lake. All of it fully furnished. The guard sets the bags on the counter then turns to us.

“Mr. Crane requests a list of lab supplies tomorrow evening. Someone will be by to pick it up.”  He nods, then turns stiffly and leaves.

I lay Lina down on the couch and check all the locks on the doors and windows. I was not given a key, so I can only assume that the absence of crime is also a new objective of the Phoenix District. I search the boxes in the garage for Lina’s bedspread. I find it in the second box and bring it upstairs to cover her with. She sleeps soundly. Peacefully. Like nothing in this world has ever changed. I kiss her forehead then return to the kitchen to start unpacking the groceries. I watch Stevie as she sniffs all the corners of the townhouse, inspecting. Finally she settles on the floor of the kitchen, lying down to watch me put things away. I can’t figure out how this man, Crane, thinks this will work. But I have Lina back, and I will do whatever I must to keep her safe.

Stevie’s ears perk up, and she walks to the front door. There are three faint knocks. I hesitate for a moment, then walk over and open it.

Standing on the front porch is Adam.

“What do you want?” I ask him. Stevie pushes past me and licks Adam’s hand.

“I wanted to explain.” He raises his eyebrows, hopeful.

He’s no longer wearing the gray uniform. Instead he has changed into jeans and a white T-shirt. His bruises are mostly healed, leaving him looking more handsome than yesterday.

“I don’t think I want to talk to you right now.” I start to close the door, but he steps in, placing his foot in front of the door, stopping me.

“Andie, you don’t understand. I had to-” he starts.

“You had to what Adam? Betray me? You were the only person I had left to trust here!” I speak angrily through gritted teeth, trying not to wake Lina. “It took you three minutes to jump into bed with this new Phoenix District. What did they have on you? What did they hold against you Adam? Because this entire time they’ve had my daughter and they took my husband.”

“Andie, I have no one left. You know that.” I do know that he has no one left. I saw it in the graveyard on our way into town. His family is dead, all of them. “I just need you to trust me,” he pleads.

“I barely know you and whatever little bit of trust I had in you…” I shake my head. He takes his foot away from the door. “I don’t know when I will be able to do that again, Adam.” I think I may actually see disappointment in his eyes. But that doesn’t stop me from closing the door in his face.

I lean my forehead against the door and take a deep breath. I’m sure Crane would want him as part of the security team. He’s a soldier-a Marine-highly trained and skilled. I’m sure he’ll move up the ranks quickly. But I can’t worry about Adam right now. I have to figure out how I am going to get through this and keep Lina safe. I grab a notebook and pen and sit on the end of the couch where Lina sleeps.  I start making a list of supplies for the lab. Computers, programs, backup drives, and I add some basic office supplies. I don’t intend to sleep, but somewhere in my list making I drift off and dream of Ian.

It is our wedding day. I’m dressed in my wedding gown, nervous and giddy. I hear the wedding march start and head down the aisle. I can see Ian, smiling proudly. He looks so handsome in his black tuxedo. His hair is longer, but still its natural blonde. We are young-I was nineteen and he was twenty.  As I get closer to him the butterflies in my stomach get stronger. Standing in front of him we listen to the pastor, then repeat our vows. I lean in to kiss Ian. But his lips never touch mine. I open my eyes and he’s standing in front of me. But he’s different now. His eyes are pale brown, not their usual dark brown. His smile gone, replaced with a slack face. He looks at me strangely, like he doesn’t know who I am. Then without a word, he turns and walks down the aisle away from me without saying a thing. Instantly I’m crying, weeping, and my heart is broken. Our family and friends in the crowd get up and leave as I turn my back to them. The pain of him leaving me hurts so much that I fall to the ground on my knees, wrinkling the white wedding dress. I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I look up there is an old lady with red hair standing at my side. “Some things are not meant to be.” She tells me in her old, crackled voice. Then she disappears, leaving smoky wisps of air where she once stood. A black feather flutters out of the smoke, brushing across my cheek, before dropping to the ground.

--

I wake up slowly. There is a heavy pain in my chest and a wet tear drops into my ear. I wipe at my face and sit up. Lina is still sleeping soundly next to me and Stevie has curled up on the floor at my feet. I miss Ian terribly and I want him back. But Crane has made his intentions known, I can only have Lina. I watch her sleep, wondering to myself how long will it take for the pain of losing Ian to go away. I know that it would devastate him if he knew Lina and I were alive and well, forced to move on without him. All I can hope now is that he won’t remember any of this. It seems the medication they are giving him will probably do just that.

I work on the lab supply list and when the sun begins to rise I get up and I make a full pot of coffee, savoring the sharp scent. I put down the food and water bowl for Stevie. After she eats she goes to the sliding door in the living room and whines. I open the door and follow her out. She bounds off the back deck, inspecting the new yard.

“Mommy?” I hear Lina wake up. She walks out onto the deck and stands next to me. “Wow mom, this is amazing!” She is looking out at the lake which is a few hundred yards from the deck we are standing on.

“Yes, honey, it’s very nice. Let’s get you something to eat.”

I call Stevie back to us and we head inside. As I’m opening the sliding glass door I see someone stepping out onto their deck, a few houses down. I don’t turn my head to stare but I pause for a moment looking out of the corner of my eye, and I’m quite sure that it is Adam.

We settle on cereal for breakfast and sit down at the dining room table, which seems empty with just the two of us.

“Mommy, what happened to Daddy?” Lina asks.

I knew she would ask, but I was hoping to avoid why Ian was not with us. “Lina, Daddy is very sick and he can’t be with us right now,” I pause, trying to select the best words. I don’t want her to know that I chose her over her father. That it’s my fault it’s just us now. This is a guilt she should never have to live with.

“Yeah Mommy, he was acting really weird after the earthquake.” She swirls the cereal around in her bowl. “Then these people brought food to the house for us. It smelled gross, so I hid it in my napkin. But daddy ate it. And then he wouldn’t listen to me anymore…” I listen to her jabber on and on.

She tells me everything, in only the way a five year old can, about how she ate Easter candy that was hidden in her room instead of the canned food. How her father left the house after the earthquake, leaving her home alone with just the dog. Later that day a lady in black came home with Ian and took Lina from the house, bringing her to the small Catholic School where we send her for Kindergarten. She tells me that the lady in black was a teacher, and some of the kids from her class were there, also waiting for their parents. They played with the toys and had a sleepover in the classroom.

“Were you scared?” I ask her during a pause. She has never slept anywhere besides our house.

Without skipping a beat she responds, “No Mommy, I knew you would find me. And the teacher said that you were on your way, they were just waiting for you to get home.” I reach over and hug her.

“I love you, little Catalina, never forget that.”

“I love you too, mommy.”

I feel a little bit better that she was well cared for when I was gone. However, it seems strange to me that her ‘teacher’ would know that I was making my way home.

--

It’s early afternoon. A guard has shown up on my new doorstep. “Mr. Crane has requested a face-to-face meeting instead of a list of supplies,” he informs me.

I gather a few things and the guard drives us back to Culkin Hall. We take the elevator to the ninth floor again, returning to the same room as yesterday. It’s much more pleasant this time, not being dragged down the hallway. Lina skips along beside me, holding my hand.

Crane is waiting with a few other people, including the man with the pin on his lapel.

“Ah, welcome, we’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival.” He claps his hands together then bends down to Lina. “And this little princess must be Catalina?” He holds his hand out to Lina, but instead of shaking it she cowers behind me. “It’s all right, we have plenty of time to get acquainted,” he tells her.

I put my hand on her arm. Lina has always been a good judge of character. So I’m not sure if it’s the unfamiliar room or the sickening, sweet smell of Crane that makes her leery. I have a feeling it’s probably just Crane, because I feel the same way about him.

“Let me introduce you to everyone. First we have Colonel Baillie.” He points to the man with the pin and the southern accent, who’s wearing a gray uniform. “Then we have Alexander,” the man who performed the lie detector test. “Morris,” a short Asian man whom I have never met, he takes his hat off and bows. “And finally Ms. Black.” A tall, elegant woman in a black suit rises.

Lina tugs at my hand, I bend down a little and she whispers in my ear. “Mommy, that’s the teacher.” I squeeze her hand to let her know I heard her.

Crane continues. “I would like to welcome you all to the first official meeting of the Phoenix District Development Commission.” He stands there, arms open, smiling widely. “We are about to make history. On to our first order of business, Ms. Black.”

The tall woman stands up and walks towards us. “Could you come with me Catalina?” She holds her hand out to Lina.

I push Lina behind me. “She’s not leaving this room. She’s not leaving my side.” I look around the room to see them all staring at me. “I just got her back,” I whisper.

Ms. Black smiles kindly at me. Her face is soft and young, her blonde hair pulled into a loose bun. She clasps her hands in front of her waist and looks to Crane. I look to Crane also and see the man called Baillie roll his eyes and shake his head.

“That’s fine,” Crane starts, “this was anticipated. We can’t expect Andromeda to trust everyone just yet.” The door opens and guards enter carrying a small table, two chairs and piles of workbooks, crayons, and pencils. They set the supplies up in the far corner of the room. “Is this better?” Crane asks me.

“Yes, thank you.”

Lina lets go of my hand and takes Ms Black’s. They sit down at the table. I can see the woman open a workbook and hand Lina a pencil.  She takes it excitedly and starts writing.

Crane turns to me. “Please have a seat. Let’s begin. As we know, God did not build the earth and mankind in one day, and so the assemblies of The Phoenix District will not either.”

I choose a seat next to Morris, the Asian man, as he looks the kindest.

We are handed legal notepads, pens, pencils, and a small metal bin with our names on them. Crane tells us that at the end of the meeting everything is to be placed in the metal bin and it will be locked in a safe until the next meeting. There are rules for being on the committee: there is absolutely no discussion of meeting topics outside this room, no materials are to be taken from the room, and there will be no discussion of topics unless everyone on the committee is present.

Crane officially starts the meeting by slamming a small rubber hammer onto a copper plate. He has an agenda already written in front of him, topics that we need to come to a decision on I’m assuming. I can see them from across the table: Social Order, Security, Guidance, Occupations, Education, Genetic Research, Propagation. The list goes on.

It makes me nauseous. I don’t want this role, chosen as one of the few which will decide the fate for an entire society, a new society. It doesn’t feel right to me, none of this does. But I know that I have no choice in the matter if I want to keep my daughter safe. All I can do is help make the most ethical decisions possible. I look around the table and realize that I am the only woman on this committee. Suddenly the arguments and meetings from working in the lab are fresh in my mind. This is exactly what I was trying to escape when I became a nurse.

The agenda starts with the issue of Social Order. I mostly observe, taking mental notes. There is an abundance of information you can learn about a person by just observing them, especially in a heated argument, and the men eventually argue. They go back and forth about how to identify the different classes of people. What jobs they will be doing, how they will be interacting with society. By evening it has been decided the social order will be broken up into factions, each social group living within a small radius around their given trade.

For example, the farmers will be referred to as Cultivators. They will be responsible for growing the food, harvesting it, taking care of the farm animals, producing sustenance for the District, and will be housed on many of the local farms in the new District. There will be the Orderlies, responsible for the cleanliness of the city. The Navigators are responsible for the buses, the train and road upkeep. The Currents are responsible for operating the nuclear power plants and hydroelectric plant on the river. The list goes on to include every job title needed to run a District encompassing nearly nine-hundred square miles. Alexander and Morris are assigned to head the working factions; they nod in agreement and shake hands.

Crane informs us that social order does not apply to the District Sovereign, who will include the committee members, their families, and gifted individuals selected from the residents. The Sovereign will be responsible for making decisions for the residents, for overseeing the organization and development of the District. They will carry out duties of the sciences, humanities, medicine, research, and technological development.

Security is the next topic discussed. Assigned as a District faction, the Volker-meaning people’s guard-will be responsible for protecting the District. They will monitor the nearby lake, the wall, and the fence outside the wall. Crane assigns Baillie as the head of the Volker faction. I watch Baillie and see him smile arrogantly, satisfied with his new role.

Lastly, Crane assigns himself as head moderator of the District. Ms. Black will be responsible for the education and training of the gifted children chosen to lead the District in years to come, including my daughter.

I am not assigned to head any faction.  So far, my sole purpose is genetic analysis and protecting Lina from these people.

Finally the committee meeting is complete. Crane passes the agenda around the table. We sign it in agreement and then place our belongings into the metal boxes. Crane collects them all then crosses the room to a tall closet door, inside is a large safe, he punches in a code, places the metal boxes inside and turns the handle. The lock clicks heavily into place. Crane turns, telling us he will send a Volker in the morning to escort us in.

The sun is low in the sky and when I look to the corner where Lina is working I see her yawn. I cross the room to collect Lina, picking her up.

Ms. Black pats her on the shoulder. “Good job today,” she tells Lina quietly.

When we open the door there are guards, I suppose now we call them Volker, waiting to escort each of us home. The drive is quick and quiet. I thank the Volker when he opens the door for us. As I walk to the townhouse I notice he waits to see that we have gone inside and closed the door before he pulls away.

Stevie greets us at the door. She trails at my heels as I make a quick dinner of rice and vegetables. When we are done eating, I feed the leftovers to her.

Lina helps me carry a few more of our things upstairs, and we inspect the upper level of the townhouse. There are two rooms with an adjoining bathroom. The bedrooms have large windows overlooking the lake and they are furnished alike. There are large queen sized beds, with matching white linens, large closets, and tall dressers. I let Lina pick a room and we both bathe and get ready for bed. After tucking Lina in I stroll through the townhouse, checking all the locks on the doors and windows before I climb into bed next to her.

I try not to think about the day’s events, forcing myself to breathe deeply and relax. I try not to think about Ian and Adam or the recent happenings which have turned my world upside down. I feel guilty, being chosen as a committee member. I am the last person who should be making these decisions. I find it hard to believe that Crane’s goal of developing a glorious utopian society within America will succeed. Somehow I manage to sleep, but it is not long before the sun is rising.

Stevie whines to me from the foot of the bed, her signal for needing to go outside. I leave Lina to sleep soundly, kissing her temple before I leave the room to take Stevie out the back door.

The lake is calm, with seagulls and ducks floating on top of the water. Stevie bounds off the back deck, chasing a squirrel into one of the nearby trees. I follow her out into the large yard.

“Andie,” I hear someone call my name.

I turn around and see Adam walking towards me. He’s wearing the gray Volker uniform. I am still mad at him for betraying me, but there is nowhere to go out here in the yard to escape him. As he walks up to me I see that his dark hair is trimmed shorter, his face clean shaven. He looks more relaxed as he walks, unlike the stiff soldier I saw in the conference room two days ago after we were removed from my house.

“What do you want Adam?” I ask him.

“I just wanted to check on you. I noticed you were gone most of the day yesterday.” His light blue eyes are looking directly into mine.

“Yeah, I was. I think we will be gone most of the day today, also.”

“Where have they been taking you?” he asks raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t think I can tell you. At least not right now. I’m not supposed to talk about it.” Actually, I’m not sure what I am allowed to say. Or if I can disclose that I am actually on this committee whose sole purpose is to develop the district, to rearrange our town and its people.

“I just want to make sure you are safe. I’ve been assigned two units from you, if you need anything.” He kicks the ground sheepishly. “Well, I have to go to training now so hopefully I’ll see you soon.” He smiles at me before turning and jogging back to his townhouse. I watch him, suddenly aware that he may be the closest thing I have to a friend now, wondering if it’s worth it to give him a second chance with my trust.

Stevie and I head back inside. I wake up Lina and get us ready for the day. Not long after we sit down to eat breakfast there is a knock on the door. Stevie whines and pushes herself between me and the door as I open it. It’s the same Volker who dropped us off last night, ready to take us back to another committee meeting. I make him wait a few minutes while Lina finishes eating and I pack my work bag with a few snacks and drinks. I find the stuffed owl that I carried with me when traveling back from the city. When I hand it to Lina she squeals with excitement.

We stop in front of Culkin Hall and the Volker opens the back door for us to get out. The first thing I notice is the sign for Culkin Hall has been removed. I wonder what it will be replaced with. The next thing I notice is that there are workers cleaning the front of the building, sweeping the sidewalks and parking lot, scrubbing the bricks and tending to the flowerbeds.

We are escorted to the conference room. The other Sovereign members are already there, waiting for us. Baillie looks impatiently at his watch as we walk through the door. Ms. Black sits at the small table in the corner. Lina releases my hand and runs over to greet her. I notice the uncomfortable office chairs have been replaced with new, thickly padded ones and unfortunately, the only seat available is the one to the right of Crane. I sit down as he proceeds to collect the metal bins from the safe and pass them out. He taps the hammer of the copper plate and the committee meeting has begun. Crane continues on with the next few subjects on his agenda:  Guidance, Occupations, and Education.

We set up curfews for working days and off days. Baillie suggests we use the traffic cameras in town to monitor the District from a control room. The men discuss the possibility of adding more cameras throughout the District and along the stone wall that’s being built. Although we are all in agreement that a control room would be an excellent option for ensuring the safety of the town, there is a nagging in the back of my brain reminding me that this would not only impact the privacy of the residents, but also my privacy. The County Jail at the entrance to town will be mostly used for Volker training and detaining any suspicious persons.

Crane writes nothing as all the rules and ideas are discussed. I begin to realize that we aren’t the ones making many of the decisions. Crane is the one suggesting, pushing along the discussions and then making the final decisions. When we are done discussing the Guidance of the District there is a knock at the door. And when it opens, women enter the room carrying trays of food for lunch. They walk around the table and we select food from the trays they are carrying. One of the women walks over to Lina and Ms. Black, allowing them to choose from a selection of sandwiches and snacks on her tray.

As we break for a moment to eat and use the restrooms, I check on Lina.

“Look Mom,” she holds up a paper and shows me proudly. In neat small handwriting Lina has finished an entire page of addition and subtraction. Something I wasn’t expecting her to learn about until next year when she started first grade. I look to Ms. Black who is sitting behind Lina, smiling proudly.

“That’s a very good job Lina.” I hug her and kiss her before returning to the committee table just in time for Crane to signal the meeting has started again.

The agenda moves on and we discuss Occupations. Crane is prepared with a listing of the occupations assigned in Japan and the tests administered to determine a resident’s assigned occupation.  We listen as Crane reads off a long list.

“What about winter?” I interrupt Crane. He looks at me annoyed but doesn’t say anything. I look around the table and realize I’m the only committee member who’s local to this area. “We get a lot of snow here in the winters, over thirty feet. If you plan on keeping the District functioning during the winter, we’re going to have to think about running plows, shoveling sidewalks and roofs.”

“Alright, we will add winter preparations. I’m sure those assigned to the District Maintenance faction can handle it.” Crane responds nodding. I hold in a smile, happy that I have provided a small suggestion that didn’t include the mind washing of the local residents.

Crane continues on explaining how the testing of the residents will determine their occupations. First, residents will be given a paper test with over a hundred questions. The residents’ choices will be tallied at the end and they will be assigned to the occupation in which they scored the highest.

Next, we move on to Education. We decide that the school year will last year round. This is necessary for preparing the future residents with acceptable skills and to keep the children off the streets and out of trouble. The children will be the only residents besides the Sovereign and Volker who will be un-medicated. Baillie tries to argue that the children should be receiving the cooperative hormone mixture just as the adults are. “To keep them in line.” He says. “What are we going to do when we have a bunch of hoodlum teenagers roaming the streets?”

This was another time where I could not keep my mouth shut.

“We can’t medicate the children,” I argue. “The brain chemistry of children is largely unknown.  And whatever hormones they are given could impact their brain development.” I can feel my face flushing in anger for Baillie so casually wanting to create a society of medicated residents. “Besides, the human brain doesn’t stop developing until the age of twenty-five. I’m sure there are a number of residents who are receiving these medications right now that shouldn’t be.”

Baillie glares at me from across the table.  I look back to Crane, who turns in the direction where Ms. Black is working with Lina. She must have been listening to the argument; she nods in my direction. I feel a little better having someone in the room who agrees with me.

“So we need to decide on a compromise,” Crane starts, “Residents will start receiving the hormone mixture at the age of eighteen, after their schooling and training is completed. Unless we start experiencing this hoodlum problem, then we will review this matter again.”

This is not the solution I would have preferred, but I feel better knowing that the children will be able to function normally.

The meeting has lasted almost the entire day again. By the time we near the end of discussions on Education the sun is hanging low over the lake. Crane has declared the meeting over. We sign the final agreements and place our belongings into our metal bins. Crane collects them and secures them in the safe just as he did the day before.

“Andromeda,” Crane signals to me as he is closing the closet door. I notice he looks tired, his shoulders sag a little, and he doesn’t exude the excitement and arrogance of our first meeting. “I need your list of laboratory supplies.”

I dig in my bag for the long handwritten list of supplies and hand it over to him. Crane looks over the list quickly. I know that laboratory supplies are expensive, the reagents, gel disks, nucleic acid synthesizers, micropipettes, computers, analysis programs and the microarray instrument used for analyzing the genetic material should cost over a million dollars. He says nothing about the expensive materials and computers needed to supply my lab.

“I wasn’t sure what my budget was for the lab.”

“There is none,” he responds swiftly.  I’m shocked by his response. I can only assume that some other entity is funding the District, so I decide to ask.

“Where is the funding coming from?”

“Everywhere,” he responds nonchalantly.

“What do you mean everywhere?”

The corner of his mouth rises in a half smirk. Maybe it’s from my questions, or maybe because he gets to explain more of his mad plan to me. I can feel the arrogance and excitement radiate off him once again. He steps closer to me, bringing the musky scent of his cologne within smelling distance, my stomach churns, pushing lunch towards the back of my throat.

“Do you remember Andromeda, when I told you this runs much deeper than you would expect? That’s where the funding comes from. That is where our supplies come from. We will recycle as much as we can from this little town. And once the crops start coming in and the food processing plants are back up and running, we will become self sufficient. Until then we will rely on our Funding Entities. They were aware of the cost before they came aboard.” Funding Entities? I wonder who they are-specific people, governments, countries? “I think it is time to call it a night, our precious Lina is looking tired.”

Ms. Black walks up behind me carrying Lina and passes her into my arms. I don’t like the way Crane says “our Lina” like she is somehow his, like he knows her or owns her. I don’t like that he calls her precious, because how could he know how precious she is? She’s precious to me but that’s because she is my child. I raised her, watched her turn into an amusing, spunky five-year old. I am not sure what his plans are for her, but she is much too young right now to be a part of this.

I turn and leave without saying goodbye to the madman, Crane.

chapter ten

The townhouse is not our real home, and it feels like we are living in a hotel. Lina and I unpack a few more of the boxes from the garage after the Volker drives us home. She runs upstairs each time we pull out one of her stuffed animals, placing them on the bed. I find our clothes and hang them up in the closet. There’s a pile of scrubs at the bottom of a box. I set them on the floor of the closet, sure that I will never wear them again. The door to the garage is open, letting in the fresh spring air. The workers who packed up our belongings included Lina’s outdoor toys. As she rides her small princess bike on the cement driveway, I dig through the remaining boxes. Stevie sits by the garage door watching her. I don’t want to leave her outside by herself so I set some things by the stairs for later.

It is evening, but the sun has not set yet. I’m antsy from being stuck in the office for days.

“Want to ride your bike down the road?” I ask Lina. Since there are no cars on the road, and the majority of the townhomes are empty, it seems like a good idea. I would also like a little exercise to clear my mind.

“Mommy, I’m not allowed to ride in the road. You told me so.” She continues to ride around in a circle at the end of the driveway.

“I know sweetie, but there are no cars here. It’s safe now. And I’ll be with you.”

“Ok!” she responds excitedly.

I tell Stevie to stay as I close the garage door, locking her inside. I haven’t found her leash yet and I don’t want to risk her running off to examine this unfamiliar area.

I follow Lina as she pedals out to the road. This road is new, the pavement smooth and easy for her to ride on. It weaves back towards the campus, splitting off a few hundred yards ahead of us with another road, towards town. The lake borders one side of the road, with dense forest on the other. Lina pedals slowly and I anticipate we won’t be walking for very long.

“Mommy,” she breaks the silence. “Everything is different now, isn’t it?”

I can’t blame her for asking questions. It’s obvious that our lives have completely changed in just a few short days, and for a child it is no doubt hard to cope with. So far she hasn’t displayed any negative effects of losing her father, moving, having a completely different daily routine. I’m not sure what to tell her, because I know things may change again.  I’m afraid that she has lost that stability in her life we once had, the one that keeps children feeling safe and grounded, that helps them grow up feeling loved and ready for the real world in all of its ruthlessness.

“Yes, everything is very different now,” I say to her. “I think we’re going to see some more changes, me and you. But we will be together, always. I will keep you safe.” I pat the top of her head and she looks up smiling at me. A cracking sound comes from the forest, the distinct sound of a tree branch being stepped on. It crunches loudly in the still evening air.

“I love you, Mommy,” Lina responds as her little feet pedal slowly on the bike.

I feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck start to stand up. Those hairs that tell you someone is close by or just entered an empty room.

“I love you too, Lina. Let’s head home now.”

I grab the front of her bike and help her make a wide curve to turn around. The evening starts to get darker but the street lights don’t come on. I’m starting to feel stupid and paranoid, but then I hear another branch crack, this time closer to us. Suddenly I realize that a nice relaxing walk may not have been such a good idea.  “Lina can you pedal a little faster for me?” I try not to let her hear the rising panic in my voice. I reach down and pull the front of her bike, walking faster. I scan the forest but I can’t see anything through the dense shrubs and low branches. Two more branches snap sending my heart into a raging flutter. I hear something, a low breathing, or growl. I can’t tell which. More branches snap, too many to count this time, the sound seems loud enough to burst my eardrums. I don’t wait to see what is at the edge of the forest. I pick Lina up under her arms and start running, leaving the bike in the road.

“Mommy my bike,” she shrieks, reaching behind me, struggling to get out of my arms.

“We’ll come back for it, Lina. We have to get out of here, now.”

For a moment I still think I am being a coward, that there is nothing in the woods tracking our movements. That is until Lina lets out a scream so loud it leaves a ringing in my eardrums. I don’t turn around to see why she is screaming, I can only assume it’s from whatever was in the woods snapping the tree branches.

I am not an athlete. I am not a runner, and running with a forty pound child clinging to my chest doesn’t help me move any faster. There is a sound behind us, and it’s something else running. It clicks on the smooth pavement, not like shoes, or sneakers. It clicks and clicks and clicks. I try to think of what it could be. Lina is still screaming in my ear, telling me to go faster. I try to run faster, using every ounce of energy in my body, and then I can place the sound. The clicks are nails, but there are too many of them for one creature. It sounds like a pack of animals running after us. I know that I am no match against an animal that has spent its life hunting and running, training for a moment just like this-the pursuit of prey. They’re getting closer, whatever they are, and I can feel their hot damp breaths on the backs of my legs. We didn’t walk very far but I feel like I’ve been running for miles already. I’m too slow and Lina is too heavy.

There is a cluster of townhomes in front of me, not far from us. I can see a few lights on and I’m hoping that someone is home. I scream for help, worrying that Lina’s screams and shrieks are drowning out my calls to anyone who may be in one of the townhouses. No one opens their doors or looks out their curtains. No one is coming to help us. All that I can hear is Stevie barking fiercely from behind the garage door. I feel something scrape the back of my leg. It is just enough to trip me, knocking me down onto the pavement. I choke out a cry, pushing my hand in front of me so Lina doesn’t hit the ground. Small pebbles grind into the soft skin on my hand. All I can think, is how am I going to protect Lina? I curl my body around her, trying to protect her from whatever is chasing us. Something scrapes the back of my leg again, this time tearing through the khaki material of my pants and sending a sharp pain up my leg. There’s another swipe, this time across my back, and I can feel the nails tearing at my flesh. The tapping has stopped on the pavement and I can hear the growls and heated panting of whatever animal is at my back, moving in for the kill.

Oh no, what do I do?

At that moment, bursting through my fears and thoughts, I hear the most glorious sound, the sound of gunshots. I hear yelling and the footsteps of someone running in our direction. The animals no longer focus on us, but I stay in my curled up position, trying to protect my child.

There are more gunshots, but the animals don’t move away from us. I can feel the heat radiating off their bodies, I can smell them. It’s like when Stevie rolls in dead animals, but worse-stronger. They growl now, barking loudly, claiming me and my child as their own. Whoever is yelling and shooting gets closer and they let off a few more warning shots, but the beasts don’t budge. I close my eyes tightly, trying to think of what to do next. Lina whimpers in the space below me. There are more gunshots. I feel a spray of dislodged pavement at my back, then there is a loud shriek from one of the animals and I feel its heavy warm body thud against my side. I know it’s been shot, and it must be dead because there’s no more heavy breathing or heat radiating off it. There’s a yelp and more tapping on the road. It sounds like they are headed for the forest, away from us.

I stay in my position, protecting Lina, not expecting the heavy hand that clamps down on my shoulder nor the voice that accompanies it.

“Andie, are you two all right?” I look up and see Adam at my side. His eyes are large, his brow furrowed. He’s wearing sweatpants and running shoes; his shirt is soaked with sweat and a gun is in his hand. I sit up on my knees, pulling Lina up and hugging her to my chest.

“Oh my God, Lina, are you okay?” I pull her up off the ground and look her over for injuries. She’s crying and smudges of dirt from the pavement stain her pale cheek. “It’s okay, we’re safe now.” I pull her towards me and hug her tightly. Looking to my side and see a large furred body next to me.

“What was that?” I ask Adam. He runs his hand through his hair, staring at the body.

“I think it was a pack of wolves; there were four or five of them. It was so strange…”

I shake my head in disbelief. Adam grabs the leg of the animal dragging it to the side of the road. My palms are burning, and when I pull them off of Lina’s back I see that they are streaked with blood, leaving stains on the back of her shirt. I raise my leg up, positioning myself to stand while holding her. I adjust her weight onto my hip so I can carry her comfortably. Adam is walking towards us, wiping his hands on his pants. I step onto my right leg where the animal scratched me and pain sears up my leg, causing it to give out. I start to stumble but Adam rushes forward, catching my elbow.

“Do you want me to take her?” He asks, sounding concerned. I shake my head no. He holds my elbow, giving me support as I limp back to the townhouse carrying Lina.

When we get to the door she has stopped crying and is silent. Stevie still barks from behind the garage door and Adam opens it to let her loose. She runs to the end of the driveway and down the road to where the dead animal is, barking viciously. She stops to mark the edge of the road a few times and then runs back to us sniffing and licking our hands. Adam helps me get up the stairs to the living room, then up to the second floor.

“Can you wait downstairs?” I ask him, “I need to get Lina cleaned up.”

He leaves us, heading down the stairs. I run a warm bath for Lina, checking her over as I help her get her dirty clothes off. She is unscathed, except for a scratch on her arm from the pavement. “You’re safe now Lina, it’s ok.” I kiss her scrape and give her a quick bath. I pull a large white towel from the cupboard and wrap her in it. The scrapes on my palms have stopped bleeding, but I can feel something trickling down my back. I’m not sure if it’s sweat or blood. I carry her to the bedroom, dress her, dry her hair and braid it. She reaches out and pulls the toy owl from the stack of stuffed animals on her bed, holding it close to her chest. I hold her on my lap for a long time, rocking her, kissing her on the head.

I hear a knock on the front door, then voices. I almost forgot Adam was in the house. Stevie barks a few times. I hear Adam tell her to lie down and she must, because she is quiet after that. I pull a blanket out of the closet and wrap Lina in it. She’s almost asleep, but I carry her downstairs to the living room, holding tightly to the stair railing so I don’t fall. The back of my leg feels like it’s on fire, my back doesn’t feel much better. I lay Lina down on the couch, wrapping her tightly in the blanket, as she is now sleeping. Turning, I see Adam has let Baillie into my house and what looks like a Japanese man in an EMT uniform.

“What’s going on here?” I ask Adam, but I am ushered over to a dining room chair by the medic before he can answer. The medic checks my hands, pouring a cleaning solution onto them that burns. Then he cuts my pant leg off at the knee and inspects the wounds on the back of my leg. He pours more of the solution onto it, before wrapping my calf in fresh white gauze.

“I needed to report what happened,” Adam replies as I am being bandaged up.

“Adam filled me in,” Baillie chimes in. “We can discuss it further in tomorrow’s committee meeting.” Baillie looks taller and darker against the white walls of the townhouse, his hand resting on the pistol on his hip, making me very uncomfortable. I prefer that he not be in my house at all and I get the feeling Stevie feels the same way, as she growls continuously from where she lays. I don’t want to talk to him, I want him to leave. I nod in agreement and he turns to leave, stopping near Adam. “I hear you’re doing well in training, recruit.” Adam nods at him. “Keep it up, we could use someone with your expertise and experience in the higher ranks.” Finally Baillie is closing the front door, and Stevie stops her growling.

“Now, I need to see your back,” the EMT instructs me.

I stand up and pull my arm out of my shirt, exposing most of my back and bra. Usually I’m modest but I can tell by the pain that my back needs to be taken care of. I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks when I notice Adam watching the EMT closely.

“This needs to be stitched. I need to see more of your back.” The EMT goes back to his bag, pulling out a vial and syringes. I can see from the label that it reads: Lidocaine. “I need you to lie down,” he tells me as he draws the medication into the syringes.

The only places for me to lie down are the floor or the table. I choose the table.

Although I have assisted many times at work, I have never actually been the receiver of stitches, and the thought of the sutures pulling through my skin makes me feel sick. I don’t want Adam to see me in just my bra, but the pain makes me not care much anymore.

Adam must sense my unease. “It’s ok, I’ve had stitches plenty of times,” he tells me. “You won’t feel a thing.”

I pull the rest of my shirt off and lay down on the table on my stomach. I watch the EMT finish pulling up the medication. He threads the needle and gloves up all in a sterile manner that I know is not familiar to an EMT. This man is a doctor. I turn my head away from the doctor and squeeze my eyes shut. The needles pinch as he numbs the area where the deep scratches are. He waits a moment for the numbness to kick in before he cleans the area with the antiseptic, and then I feel the tugging of the sutures. Bile piles up in the back of my throat. I take deep breaths, trying to stop myself from vomiting. When I feel someone squeeze my hand I open my eyes, and Adam is standing next to me. He smiles a little before his gaze shifts to the doctor as he works.

No one has ever seen me like this before. Vulnerable, barely dressed. Only Ian. No one has ever seen the tattoo that slides down my left side, over my ribs; a single raven in flight. Trailing behind are the words: be brave. I want to laugh at the thought of the tattoo, especially after tonight, but I’m too afraid I’ll puke if I move. I wonder if Adam sees it, if he is staring at my back. Suddenly, I am very self conscious. I squeeze my eyes closed and try and focus on the heat coming from Adams palm that is lying over my hand. After a long time I hear the doctor open packages of gauze and tape to cover his stitches.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to keep your wounds clean,” the doctor instructs me in perfect English. “Your leg wounds are just on the surface, but your back wounds are very deep.” He hands me an envelope of medication. “Antibiotics twice a day and take pain medications as you need them. The stitches can come out in about a week.”

I thank him as he collects his things and leaves.

“How did you report what happened?” I ask Adam as I stand up slowly and pull the bloody ragged shirt back on.

“Your phone,” he tells me, pointing to the white phone on the wall. “Didn’t you check it? Because it works, you just press any number and it directs the call to a switchboard.”

I never thought to check the phone. I just assumed they were all out of service.

“What did Baillie mean by needing someone with your experience?”

He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “I’m not sure I can tell you. At least not right now. We aren’t supposed to talk about it,” he responds mimicking my comment from this morning. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry after the events of this evening and I can’t deal with the tension between us anymore. Maybe I could try to get over being mad at him for betraying me because really, I have no one else here.

“Thank you, for saving us,” I tell him. “I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t show up.” I can feel the pressure of tears welling up behind my eyes. Breathing in deep, I swallow them down.

“I think you should stay away from the woods and don’t go walking alone in the evening. After all that’s happened, you never know what’s hiding out there.” He runs his hands through is hair and sits down across from me. “Make sure you keep your dog around, she seems to be pretty good at trying to protect you two.”

I look back at Stevie who is now sleeping on the floor next to where Lina lays on the couch. When I turn Adam is staring at me. The furrow between his eyebrows is back. “What?” I ask.

“Did you look at those wolves?” I shake my head no. “They were just skin and bones, like they hadn’t eaten in days.”

“That’s strange. There’s been plenty of wildlife around here, squirrels and deer.”

“I went back out to check the woods, near where you left the bicycle, while you were upstairs. There were crates, four of them, back in the trees.”

“What? But that doesn’t make sense. Who would crate wolves in the forest?”

“Andie, I think someone crated them there on purpose.”

“What do you mean? Like they were waiting for us?”

“Yes.” Adam looks into my eyes. He’s right. I know it.

And now it hits me, harder than before, that now I must be unyielding in my efforts to keep my daughter safe, because someone is planning to harm us.

chapter eleven

There has been a steady stream of Volker assigned to watch us around the clock. I see them parked outside my house at night and during the evenings when we’re dropped off. Crane has forbidden me from going anywhere without a Volker, including trips to the grocery store or while playing outside. It’s starting to make me feel more like a prisoner.

Because of the details of the wolf attack Crane changed the guidelines to the Volker duties. They are now required to monitor and protect all Sovereign committee members as though they are our personal body guards. Like now, as a Volker drives us across campus to another meeting. I look out the window and see a stream of people filing into a large building-adults and children. The children will be assigned to educational training, attending school during most of the day and returning to their parents in the evening. That is, if their parents are deemed fit.

Yesterday, Crane made the decision that all those residents with criminal histories will be sterilized and assigned menial labor jobs without testing, jobs such as building the stone wall. I thought of arguing with him and the rest of the committee, but deep down, I knew it was what I wanted. As much as I didn’t want to make these decisions, sometimes I feel like Crane was right when he pointed out why he chose me. So far, with minimal effort, I have helped decide the course of a few thousand people’s lives.

After the residents are assigned occupations then they will undergo health exams. DNA samples will be taken and placed in a deep freezer until a lab is ready. The adolescent residents showing excellent health and athletic ability will be assigned to Volker training and weaned off the medication. Children showing similar abilities will be assigned training in their last few years of schooling. My heart breaks for those gifted children showing exceptional learning abilities. Those children with high IQ marks-they would be taken from their families and assigned to a program to train them to take over running the District. They will receive more schooling than the other children, the training required to become the next generation of Sovereign. I guess I’m lucky that I get to keep my daughter with me during her training.

Crane informed us that one hundred helpers from the Japan District would be arriving soon, to help with the organization and documentation of these changes. It seems strange to me that in a few short days all this will be taking place. The medications they are feeding the people of this town have prevented any uprisings. People walk calmly, smiling, some even chat quietly as they wait. It’s hard to believe that over the past few days, during the committee meetings, this was all determined and today I see it taking place before me.

We stop in front of Culkin Hall. The sign has been replaced. It now reads “Phoenix District Headquarters.” The last committee meeting was cancelled the day after the wolf attack so Baillie could do a full investigation. I’m not sure what he investigated, because I never spoke to him.

I get the feeling that Baillie doesn’t care much about our safety here, just as much as I can tell he doesn’t care about my suggestions during the committee meetings.

The Volker that drove us also escorts us to the Committee room.

Ms. Black is there to work with Lina again. Alexander and Morris both stand and greet me with smiles. Morris is closest to me and pulls out a chair for me to sit in. I notice more changes, the table is now large, round and made of dark wood. The floor looks different also. The only seat left is opposite Baillie. I’m not happy that I have to go through the entire meeting with this pain in my back and watching him stare me down. Crane starts the meeting. The only things on today’s agenda are Genetic Research and Breeding.

“Andromeda, are you sure you are ready?” Crane asks. He’s staring at me, trying his best to look concerned. I gaze around the table. Alexander and Morris have their eyes on me as well as Baillie. Ms. Black is even watching me from the corner where she works with Lina.

Somehow, I know that one of these people tried to kill me and Lina. And I need to find out who it was.

“I’m fine,” I say as I try and straighten my back, without pulling the stitches.

“Then let’s begin. We will discuss the details of the genetic research program. The lab for Andromeda should be completed soon, as well as the samples from all of the residents. Here are some examples of Andromeda’s work for you all to look over.”

I watch in dismay as Crane passes thick packets to Alexander, Baillie, Morris, even Ms. Black. I lean over and watch Morris shift through the papers inside. Crane has compiled a collection of every research paper I’ve ever published: articles, abstracts, presentations, everything.

“Why are you handing those out?” I can feel the humiliation of long ago, from all those research meetings I attended in which I was ridiculed, told my work was worthless, no good. I want to try and stop Crane. “These are old papers. They don’t apply to what you are trying to do here.”

“Andromeda, the Committee needs to see what you are capable of.”

I watch the committee members glance through the stack of papers, hoping that I can remember how to analyze the data, hoping that I can remember how to do what I did before. It’s been four years since I analyzed anything. I know that I have to remember if I want to keep us safe. It is the only thing keeping Crane from sending us to a fate similar to that of the other residents. Medicating me into oblivion and splitting us up.

I sit and wait for a long time as they review the papers. They take notes, make lists. Eventually, Crane interrupts them. “Let’s move onto the details of the Genetic Research of the District. What we would like to see is the organization of residents who are related. We want to create the greatest genetic diversity possible. This will help decrease genetic diseases, mental instabilities, etc., etc. I’m sure you all understand the benefits. Also, a major goal of ours is to locate the genetic link to pro-social behavior and less dominant personalities. Once this is complete we can decrease the amount of medication the working factions are receiving, and ensure cooperation with all residents.”

Deep down, I feel like this is an unattainable goal. This is going to take an insurmountable amount of digging into the human genome to find these traits and even more to try and develop a method for humans to continually express these traits as a dominant. Years ago, I attempted something similar in rats. I was even successful, but these are not rats we are talking about. These are human beings.

Crane continues. “This brings us onto the next topic, which is breeding. As you know, there are only about 10,000 residents left after the blast. There are some children here but not enough to support the Phoenix District into the future. Once Andromeda has determined the residents’ genetic backgrounds then she will be responsible for pairing them. Creating couples with the ability to produce genetically sound children, ensuring the growth of the district.” Suddenly all of them are staring at me, aware of the task that has just been placed upon my shoulders. I control the urge to run out of the room, collecting my daughter along the way. “You will all be notified of when the next Committee meeting will take place, we are finished for the day.” Crane slams his hammer down, ending the meeting. As he collects our trays he stops next to me. “We need to talk when we are finished here.”

I wait in the hallway with Lina after the rest of the committee members leave. Crane locks the door and walks towards us, smiling. “I have something very exciting to show you, Andromeda. Come, follow me.” He reminds me of an excited puppy the way he bounces as he walks, smiling more than I’ve ever seen him smile. The last time I saw him this excited was when he showed me the blast radius. I’m afraid of what he plans on revealing to me now. We walk out of the building to a waiting SUV and the thought of being stuck in there with him sends my stomach churning. I sit in the back with Lina and roll the windows down. We drive down a few winding campus roads, heading to the science buildings. They’re hard to forget; large, wide buildings with shimmering glass fronts facing the campus center and the lake. The SUV stops in front of the Chemistry Hall. Crane gets out and holds the door open for me. I notice there are Volker guards standing at the main entrance and a group of recruits runs by us in a cluster, humming a harmony to keep the pace with each other.

“Come, this is very exciting,” Crane beckons me.

I take Lina’s hand as we walk into the Chemistry Hall. There’s a large atrium as we enter the building. Each of the four floors is visible all the way to the glass roof.

“Wow,” Lina whispers as she looks all the way up. Her eyes large, taking in the massive windows.

“I would like to welcome you, Andromeda, to your new laboratory,” Crane exclaims. “Come, follow me.” We walk through a set of glass doors. “The entire first floor has been set aside as work space for you. I think you’ll find it quite accommodating.” I take a moment to look around. There are lab benches, all of the equipment on my list, even the expensive microarray instrument, computers, freezers-it’s a fully stocked lab. This is unheard of, especially acquiring all this in such a short period of time. “The best part is over here.” Crane reaches for my hand, but I force a cough and cover my mouth. I follow him to the middle of the room where there is a large wooden desk and rows of low filing cabinets. The best part is the computer. Three large computer screens line the wall behind the desk.

I always complained in the last lab that my computer was never fast enough to handle all the data, the screen never big enough, but there was never money in the budget to replace anything at my workstation. This is unbelievable.

Crane must have seen my mouth hanging open. “You like it, don’t you? I knew you would.” He clasps his hands in front of him.

“Crane, this is too much. This lab, it must have cost a fortune.”

“As I told you, Andromeda, we have a lot of funding and we want you to succeed with your work.”

I walk away from him, running my hand over the smooth desk surface. Lina jumps into the office chair, spinning herself and giggling. “What about Lina? Where will she be while I work?” I ask Crane, concerned. I don’t want her far from me. I don’t trust these people.

“Yes, I knew you would be concerned with her location. A classroom will be set up in the atrium right outside your doors. And for your safety, living quarters are being constructed on the fourth level.”

“What do you mean living quarters?”

“Due to the recent events I think it would be best to house you somewhere safer. Here you will have Volker security and you will be able to work whenever you want.”

“I’m not sure I like this, Crane. It feels like you are trying to keep me captive.”

“No, Andromeda, I’m just trying to keep you and Lina safe. You are both very important to me and to the District.”

--

Crane has informed me that lab assistants will be arriving from the already established Japanese District, with the other helpers. They are expected to arrive in a few days. Until then, I am free to do whatever I want. Except go anywhere by myself.

Lina and I sleep in, she plays with her toys, we play board games, and throw sticks for Stevie to fetch. One day, Lina tells me she wants to read to me. She pulls out one of her books and proceeds to read the entire thing out loud. She never pauses to sound out a word, or asks me to pronounce something for her. I tell her I am very proud of her, and that she did such a good job. But deep down I am sad at the fact she is growing up and learning so much, so fast, without her father here to see it.

After she reads to me I have one of the Volker bring us to the large park by the docks. There are a few children playing. The Volker stands off to the side, watching us. Mothers stand off to the other side, watching the children, talking quietly amongst themselves. Usually there is at least one inappropriate mother yelling loudly at her children, smoking near the garbage cans or hollering into a cell phone, but not today. They all act eerily controlled. I notice them watching me. I let Lina play with the children for an hour or so as I stand there alone, feeling strange and uncomfortable.

When we get back to the townhouse, Adam is getting out of a black SUV parked in his driveway. He’s in full Volker uniform with a badge on his chest and a gun on his hip. I haven’t spoken to him since the wolves attacked us almost a week ago and I haven’t even seen him in almost three days. Whatever Baillie is doing with him, it’s keeping him very busy.

Lina is helping me cook dinner when there is a knock at the door. I open it to find Adam standing there, his hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” I greet him, holding back a smile.

“Hi Adam!” Lina shouts from behind me. “We are cooking dinner. Do you want to eat?”

Adam looks to me smiling. “I’m not sure, that’s up to your mom.”

“Mom! Mom! Can he stay?” Lina asks, bouncing on her chair.

“I guess,” I respond, watching Adam, trying to figure out what he’s up to. “Besides we made your favorite, vegetables and rice. So it would be rude not to invite you in,” I tease him while opening the door wide so he can enter the kitchen.

“At least it smells good,” Adam laughs.

Lina and I set the table for dinner. It’s the first time there have been three people at the table since we lost Ian. I listen to Lina tell Adam all about our day, how she got to play at the park with some other kids. Then she tells him about the lab we toured a few days ago, and that we are moving there soon. Adam stops, lowering his fork to his plate he looks at me, concerned. I nod yes at him to indicate that she is, in fact, telling a true story. After dinner Lina drags Adam to a stack of playing cards in the living room and they play go-fish while I clean up. Lina beats him each time and finally, after the fourth game, Adam gives up. I suggest we go throw rocks by the lake while the sun sets.

“Are you sure moving into that building is a good idea?” Adam asks me when we get to the rocky lakeshore. Stevie follows us, jumping into the shallow lake waves and biting at them.

“I’m not sure what you want me to do,” I tell him. “I don’t like the idea of it. But we aren’t safe here. I’m not sure we are safe anywhere.”

Adam turns to me, staring into my eyes. I hear Lina tossing rocks behind us.

“I can protect you, Andie.” Adam reaches for my hand. His feels warm and strong. I want him to protect us, but I relied on Ian to protect us and look where that got me. I can’t make that mistake again, I have to be able to rely on myself to keep Lina safe.

“I got promoted today,” Adam changes the subject, “to the head of the University Unit. I will be responsible for patrolling this area, assigning guard duties and training.” This is not what I was expecting to hear from him, that he’s moving up in the ranks, quickly becoming one of them. If he is the head of a unit that means he works directly under Baillie. He will be taking orders from Baillie. Just as I was starting to think I might be able to trust him again. I try and pull my hand away, but he squeezes it. “I was hoping you would be happy for me Andie.” Then he pulls my hand, forcing me to move towards him. I don’t recognize the look on his face. He reaches out with his free hand and pulls me towards him as though he is hugging me. He smells like the Adam before everything changed, when he was in my house, and I was waiting for my family to come home. I stop trying to pull away. I can hear Lina still throwing rocks behind me. At first it feels nice, to have his arms around me, to have contact with another adult. “Andie,” Adam whispers in my ear, “I need you to listen, I need you to listen because they are watching and listening at all times. Your townhouse is bugged, so is mine. Crane is looking for rebels who might be trying to destroy the district he is working so hard at creating. He is looking for anyone who might not cooperate. I want you to know that I’m with you. I have to get close to them, so I can find a way out for us. I need you to trust me.” He pushes me back so I can see the seriousness in his eyes. I search his face. I have that gut feeling that this is the truth, and even if it may be the first truth he is telling me, right now he is our only hope of getting out of here and back to the real world.

“Did I ever tell you what I was doing in Germany?” He asks, raising his eyebrow. “Intelligence officer, for the Marines. I was their best, top of the class.”

“That is the most excellent thing I’ve heard in days,” I whisper between our close faces. It is all I can say, all that I can think of. I’m overjoyed with the possibility of getting out of here, of running away from this new District that Crane is creating and keeping us captive in. As I reach out to hug him I feel a pair of soaking wet paws collide with my back. I cry out as I fall into Adam, Stevie scraping her claws down my recently stitched wounds.

“Down Stevie!” Adam commands our dog. She stops and sits, cocking her head to the side, unsure of what she did wrong. Adam is holding me under my elbow as Lina runs over to us.

“Mom, are you ok?” she asks, her eyes searching my face for what is wrong.

“Yes, Lina, Stevie hit the stitches on my back.” I choke back a few tears. “It’s ok. It’s time for them to come out soon anyway.” I take a few deep breaths and wait for the pain in my back to subside. I move to a large flat rock and sit, keeping my back perfectly straight as I watch Lina resume throwing rocks and Stevie chase the waves.

“I can take them out,” Adam says as he sits down beside me. “The stitches, I can do that for you.”

“Ok, after I get Lina to bed,” I tell him, “I don’t want her to see the scars.”

We sit and watch the sun until it is almost gone before we walk back to the townhouse.

I get Lina to bed and bring down the small scissors from the first aid kit in the bathroom. Adam is standing by the sliding doors, looking out at the moonlight over the lake. He looks relaxed, calm. It’s hard to admit but I feel a little safer having him here. Stevie is curled up at his feet, looking guilty for hurting me. I walk over and rub her head.

“It’s ok Stevie. I know you didn’t mean it.” Her tail sways back and forth then she lays her head down again.

Adam looks to the scissors in my hand. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you would be hoarding medical supplies here.” He laughs lightly at me. The skin around his eyes wrinkle slightly as he smiles.

“How do you want to do this?” I ask nervously. I think back to him watching the doctor stitch me up as I lay nearly topless on the dining room table.

“Let’s go over to the table where the light is better.”

I walk over to the table. Adam sits in one of the chairs, and I lift the back of my T-shirt, exposing the scars from the wolf scratches.

“Thanks for doing this,” I tell him. “I have no idea where that doctor came from and I don’t have anyone else to ask.” I hear the small snips from the scissors as Adam clips at the stitches, removing them from the almost healed wounds. I stand still, barely breathing as he snips away. He rests his warm hand on my hip, to steady the scissors. The skin underneath tingles, sending small ripples up my side. Finally I hear the ting of the scissors on the table, he is done. Adam stays sitting, staring.

“What’s wrong?” He doesn’t answer. “Does it look that bad?” I try and crane my head around, to see what he is looking at on my back. “Is it not healed?”

“You never told me you had a tattoo,” he finally replies, a clever smirk pulling at his lip.

“Nobody knows about it.” I let my shirt fall back into place and walk away to wash the scissors in the sink. “What does it matter anyway, no one will notice the tattoo after they see my wolf scars.”

“I’m not so sure about that. The tattoo suits you. I like it. The wolf scars are pretty cool too. Who else can say they’ve survived a wolf attack?”

“Yeah well, there’s definitely nothing brave about me. Sometimes I think the tattoo was a mistake.”

“You got your daughter back.” He stops, abruptly, as though he was going to say more. Then it occurs to me Adam knows the townhouse is bugged, whatever he was going to say, he doesn’t want anyone else to know.

“OK, it’s late, and I’m sure you have to work in the morning, so thank you for taking out my stitches and eating my food and letting my kid beat you at cards.” I try and pull him out of the chair from under his arm. But my hand is much smaller than his bicep and I can barely get a grasp on him. He looks at my hand and laughs quietly.

“I think you’re right.” He gets up and walks towards the back door. “Andie, try and stay out of trouble.” He says, as he walks out the door and through the back yard to his townhouse.

--

There is a loud noise from the kitchen. The shattering of glass, a loud thud, it wakes me instantly. At first I’m not sure where I am. But I remember when I see the pale walls of the bedroom. Reaching over I check to make sure Lina is safe. She’s still sleeping soundly next to me. Stevie is at the bedroom door pacing, pawing at the wood. I walk over and crack the door. She bounds down the stairs to inspect what happened. I close the door quietly behind me.

The stairway smells strange, sour and damp. Stevie growls from the kitchen. As I walk down the stairs the smell gets stronger, the sourness turning into something much more putrid. There’s a warm breeze blowing through the open living area, I look to the kitchen and see it’s coming from a broken kitchen window in the front of the town house. Stevie continues to growl at something on the floor in the dining room. I walk closer to it, slowly, pulling my shirt up over my nose. There’s a lumpy mass, it’s brown and white, leaves and twigs stick to it. As I look around I see there are dark marks on the floor where it must’ve rolled across the room. I can’t move much closer to it, the smell is so strong, so putrid it seeps through the loose weave of my nightshirt, and I cough a few times, trying to get the thick smell of rot out of my nose and mouth. I walk around the mound, noticing that the white areas are moving slowly; they are piles of maggots crawling and squirming. When I get to the other side I see what looks like a triangular ear, and a snout. It’s the decapitated, half decayed face of a wolf staring at me, one dark dead eye sagging open.

I stifle a scream with my hand. I can’t have Lina waking up and seeing this in the dining room. I tiptoe across the kitchen floor, trying to miss the glass shards from the broken window, but I fail to spot one and it stabs sharply into my heel. I balance on one foot and pull the glass from my foot. I notice the blood specks on the floor from my bleeding wound. I grab a garbage bag from under the sink and open it. I throw the open end over the decaying wolf head and pull one side under it, so I can get it in the bag without touching it. There is a damp spot on the carpet that will have to be scrubbed clean before the stain sets. Stevie continues to growl at the bag as I tie it up, holding my breath so as to stop myself from vomiting. I head for the front door, turning as soon as I hear the tap of Stevie’s nails on the floor.

“Stevie, stay,” I tell her, “stay with Lina.” I point up the stairs where Lina is sleeping. “I’ll be right back.” I close the front door behind me and look around the cluster of townhouses. I wish I had a flashlight. There are no lights, only the moonlight. My plan was to toss this in the ditch by the road, but I don’t want to venture far out in the dark. Whoever threw this through my front window could still be out there, but I’m sure they’re trying to get away from here; they wouldn’t be stupid enough to stick around with all the Volker watching us.

I remember the sound of the wolves chasing us down the road. A chill runs up my back and my heart starts thumping in my chest. The thought of Lina waking up to find this mess scares me more. She has already been through enough, and I’ve tried so hard to keep her safe after the wolf attack. She barely slept for days, waking in the night, screaming. If she sees this I have no doubt it will start all over again. I take a deep breath and run down the front steps in my bare feet. I feel the cement of the sidewalk, the smooth pavement; a few small rocks jab into my soles. There’s just enough light from the moon for me to see where I’m going. I can make out the flat landscape, the grass, small sidewalk, more grass. I can see the road, the ditch on the other side where I plan to throw the bag containing the wolf head. The smell of rot is seeping through the thin plastic garbage bag, getting stronger and somehow more putrid. I try not to gag as I run across the sidewalk, then the grass, and finally making it to the road. I look behind me to make sure the door is still closed. Stevie’s wet nose is on the glass next to the door. The rotting smell is still getting stronger, but I’m almost close enough to where I can swing the bag and throw it. The road is dark; shadows from the tall forest trees block the bright moonlight. I can barely see in front of me. The smell keeps getting stronger. Just a few more steps, I step down and feel something slimy and crunchy under my foot. It trips me and I fall on the pavement, my knees landing in whatever is in the road. I drop the bag, freeing my hands to hit the rough pavement and stop my fall. The bag must have ripped because the rotting, putrid smell is stronger than ever. I roll over and look down to see what I tripped over, giving myself a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. There’s a dark mound in front of me. I can make out four legs, a high hip bone, and a tail. That’s all it takes for me to realize, I’m looking at the decaying body of a wolf, the body that belongs to the wolf head that was thrown through my window.

“Not good,” I whisper into the darkness.

I scramble to get up and run back to my front door, realizing that this was a big mistake. I’ll just leave the mess where it is, someone else can deal with it in the morning. I’m almost to my feet when I feel someone grab the hair on the back of my head. They also grab my upper arm and drag me across the pavement, down the street into the darkness. I start screaming and slapping with my free hand. I can see the cluster of townhouses, and hear Stevie barking from behind our front door. It’s as I’m screaming that I notice there is no Volker vehicle parked in front of my townhouse, like there has been for days.

“Adam!” I scream as loud as I can, “Help!” I scream it over and over.

Whoever is dragging me lets go of my hair and clamps their hand over my mouth. I can’t scream anymore, I can’t even get air out of my mouth. Suddenly I am filled with the same fear I’ve felt too many times in the past few weeks, during the earthquake and the wolf attack. Lina.

Whoever is dragging me lets go of my mouth I am able to get out a few more screams and shouts, hoping someone will hear them. My captor responds with a sharp slap to my face, when that doesn’t shut me up he progresses to a punch to the other side of my face. This is enough to almost knock me out. There’s a pillowcase placed over my head, my hands are tied behind my back. Then I’m roughly tossed into the cargo area of a truck. The truck starts, and I kick the sides of the cargo area, then the top, trying to find a way to get out. The driver speeds over potholes and bumps in the road, tossing me around. There’s the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Ringing in my ears. I can’t see where we are going but the truck stops just a few minutes after it started. I hear heavy footsteps and the back of the truck opening. Someone drags me by my foot, dropping me on the ground outside of the cargo area. There isn’t enough time to get my feet under me and my balance is off with my hands tied behind my back, I land hard on my hip. There is a loud rushing noise from underneath me and a cool breeze blows by my legs and hands that are on the ground. It takes only a few seconds before I realize we are on one of the bridges that pass over the large rushing river which separates the town.

The person grabs the pillowcase and the back of my hair, pulling me to my feet. I stumble as I’m pulled across the bridge and slammed up against the metal barrier of the sidewalk guard. The pillowcase is finally pulled off my head and thrown in the air. I watch the wind carry it like a ghost, over the barrier and down towards the rushing water.

“What do you want?” I can barely get the words out, my jaw and hip hurt so badly.

There is a deep grumbling laughter from in front of me. My captor walks towards me, into the moonlight, so I can see him. I look around quickly. There is no one on the street to help me. Ever since the curfew was enacted the streets are bare at sundown. I struggle against the ties around my wrists, trying to get my arms free.

“What do I want?” The voice in front of me repeats. It’s deep and southern, and I know instantly who it is. Baillie. He steps in front of me. His skin is so dark I can barely see his face in the night. He’s tall, much taller than I am. “What do I want?” he repeats, mockingly.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“What I want is your useless excuse for a human being out of the Phoenix District Committee meetings.” I have never been spoken to so coldly before. But there is no mistake in the seriousness of his voice. He does not want me being any part of the committee or this place. “I tried to take care of that with the wolves but they obviously didn’t get the job done because here you are, as weak and annoying as ever.”

“I’ve never done anything to you,” I tell him. “Why are you doing this to me?”

I can feel the pressure behind my eyes from impending tears. Baillie must sense this. He starts laughing his deep, thunderous laugh.

“See, I’ve barely even done anything and here you are cowering like a fool. There is nothing special about you. You are worthless, never giving any decent contributions to committee meetings. I don't know why Crane keeps you around. Making you Sovereign was a waste.” He reaches for my waist, picking me up, resting my hips on the top of the metal barrier, my upper body hanging over the dark rushing water.  “But we are going to fix that, right now."

“Stop, please,” I try and plead with him. “I have a child, I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t care about you, or your child. You are both a waste of space. I can’t believe they let you past the fence. We were told you were something great, you would bring so much to the committee, the District. But you just sit there, barely speaking, and when you finally decide to speak your disagreeing with my every word. You may think you’re smarter than me but if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a moron.”  His words cut deeper than any knife could. This is not the first time my intellect has been questioned because I have been quiet and observant. It’s something I’ve struggled with my whole life.

“Please, stop.” The wind from the river whips my hair across my face. “I never wanted any of this.”

“Maybe with you out of the way Crane can focus and get some real work done.” Baillie lets go of my waist, grabbing my neck and squeezing. I thought he was just going to throw me over the bridge and let the river have its way with me. But it seems as though he may want to finish the job himself. Either way, by the time they find my mangled body it won’t matter how I died or who did it. Thoughts of Lina start running through my mind as Baillie squeezes my neck harder, cutting off the blood flow to my brain from the carotid artery. I know what’s going to happen. Soon, permanent damage will be done. My brain will be starved of oxygen rich blood cells and my brain cells will start dying. Darkness starts to creep in around my eyes. My last words are the only person I can think about.

“Catalina.”

I hear something; a faint rumble, a loud squeal, the smell of burnt rubber. I wonder if this is it, death. But men are yelling. I just can’t make out what they’re saying. I think Baillie’s grip loosens around my neck, and I feel myself falling. I wait to feel the river envelope me in its cold darkness. A few moments pass before I realize I am sliding down the metal barrier towards the hard sidewalk and not floating towards the river as the pillowcase did.

“Colonel Baillie, stop. We are required to protect all District Sovereign, even if it’s from you. We will shoot.”

Baillie lets loose his deep rumbling laughter. There is the metallic heavy click of a bullet falling into the chamber of a gun next to my head. I open my eyes in time to see Baillie pointing a gun at my face. This is followed by multiple gunshots from multiple guns. Baillie’s body twitches; his shoulders, arms. Then he is falling backwards, away from me, falling to the ground. A dark pool of blood seeps from under his body.

“Andie,” a familiar voice is at my side. It’s Adam. “You’re safe now.”  He picks me up like I weigh nothing. “Get the doctor to her house,” he tells one of the nearby Volker guards.

“Where is Lina?” The ringing in my ears has returned and I can barely hear his response.

“She’s safe. Stevie is with her, and Ms. Black. We’re going back now.”

He carries me to the back of an SUV, sliding in with me on his lap. I make no attempt to move. The pain in my hip and jaw are intense. I let my head rest on Adams chest, listening to his heart thud, his slow breaths. Each bump in the road brings a sharp intake of breath and pain shoots down my left hip. We arrive at the townhouse in just a few minutes. The road is lined with dark SUV’s. People are outside near the lumps of decaying wolf carcass. Adam slides out of the SUV carrying me towards the townhouse. Someone is replacing the kitchen window. Ms. Black steps out, holding the door open for Adam. The kitchen smells like cleaning solution.

“Careful,” I tell Adam, “broken glass.”

“That’s all cleaned up.” Ms. Black eyes me, concerned.

“Where do you want her Doc?” Adam asks the Doctor who stitched up my back.

“The table would be best.” He points to the dining room table. “I’m sure you remember me, I’m Dr. Akiyama.” He stands next to Adam so I can see his face.

“Wait. Where’s Lina? Where is she?” I look around the room. I am surprised when I see Crane standing in the corner of the living room, watching me, his face pale.

“She’s sleeping upstairs. She hasn’t woken up.” Ms Black is now standing next to me, speaking in a soft soothing tone. “Your dog would barely let me in her room.”

I try and smile, stopping when the sharp pain from Baillie’s punch spreads over my jaw. Adam sets me on the table and the Doctor starts cutting at my night shirt. My face flushes with embarrassment, the last thing I want is everyone to see me like this, stripped down.

“No people,” I tell the Doctor, waving at the room, he nods understanding.

“I need everyone out, except you,” he points to Adam. “I need your help. Go get some ice for her face”

Ms. Black and Crane leave without saying a word. I can still hear the commotion of people outside, but at least there is no one in here while the Doctor does his work except for Adam, and I’m sure he is about to get quite the show. The Doctor cuts off my top and shorts, leaving me in just my underwear. I close my eyes, and try not to think about Adam seeing me like this. My injuries are cleaned, bruises inspected. When they roll me onto my stomach, so the Doctor can check my back, he lets out a low whistle.

“You should have waited a few more days on those stitches, you’re wound is ripped open, I’m going to have to stitch it again.” I let out a deep groan. “There’s too much scar tissue. I’m going to give you a little morphine for the pain.” He gives me an injection of the anesthetic. It takes the pain away almost immediately, leaving my mind in a hazy fog. He stitches my back, applies medical glue to my lip and my foot, then packs up his bag. “We need to stop meeting like this, Andie.” He squeezes my hand and gives Adam a list of instructions on how to care for me.

As he leaves Adam follows him, speaking to someone outside the door for a moment before closing it. I make no effort to move, and when he walks back to the dining room table I’m still lying on it in nothing but my underwear, unable to move. I can’t remember when I shaved my legs last or if I’m wearing my good underwear, but the morphine helps me not care much.

Adam stands over the table, watching me for a moment and sighing, “Well, we can’t just leave you here like this.” He goes upstairs and opens the bedroom door. Stevie bounds down the stairs and stand up next to me, her front paws on the table. She licks the side of my head.

“Good girl, Stevie,” I tell her.

Adam returns with some clothes and helps me put them on. He holds my elbow, helping me slide off the table. But when my feet hit the floor, both of my knees give out. Adam sweeps me up in his arms before I drop to the floor.

“The morphine,” I hear myself mumble to him.

He carries me upstairs to the room where Lina is, so I can see her sleeping peacefully. He takes me to the other bedroom and sets me on top of the comforter. I make no effort to cover myself. I don’t want to sleep but the morphine is too strong, the Doctor must have given me too much. I am out instantly.

--

I wish I could say the morphine helped me rest, but my dreams are filled with terror and I never stop running. There are wolves, shadows, darkness. I hear screams from Lina, see Baillie’s bloodied corpse rise from the puddle of blood on the bridge. He chases me, and the only place I can think of to run to is my old house. It’s night in my dream, but the lights in the house are on, the door unlocked. I run in and turn the deadbolt into place. Baillie’s corpse pounds and claws at the door, eventually it gives up and walks to the street where there is a waiting hearse. The corpse climbs in the back and lies down, then the hearse drives away.

“Where have you been?” A familiar voice asks. I turn around to see Ian standing in the living room with me. I’m afraid to tell him what has happened. I’m afraid of his response when I tell him that I abandoned him and that I chose to save our daughter over him. How I made no effort to save him or to beg that he come with us. Somehow I get it out. I tell him everything; that our town has changed into something new-the Phoenix District-and we are being held captive. That I had no choice, Crane had Lina and I had to get her back. She’s just a baby, she’s my baby.

“Ian, I miss you so much,” I choke through the tears running down my cheeks. The guilt of trying to move on so quickly is catching up with me. Ian makes no attempt to hug me, or kiss me, or welcome me home. He listens to my story, a stern look on his face, and when I am done there is nothing but silence.

“You think I don’t know about your little friend? What’s his name, Adam?” Ian spits out. “I’ve seen you with him. You didn’t even let my corpse get cold before sneaking off with your new boyfriend.”

“Ian, it’s not like that. He helped me get home. He helped me get to Lina. With you gone, Adam is the only one I can trust. I have to keep her safe. I have to get her out of here.”

“Did you ever think to keep me safe?” Ian tugs at his finger and pulls off his wedding band. “I knew I couldn’t trust you with my heart.” He reaches back and throws the wedding band through the living room window, shattering the glass. And that is all it takes for my heart to truly break. Warm tears flow down my cheeks. Somehow, I know this is all a dream, but it’s so vivid, it feels so real.

“Ian, I love you.  I want you to come back to me…” I reach out for him while walking across the living room. But now there is a glass in his hand, filled with ice water.

He waits until I’m almost next to him, “Enjoy your new life, District Sovereign, be careful of whom you trust.” He swirls the ice in the glass for a moment. “You know what they say, if it talks like a pirate and it smells like a pirate then it’s a pirate.” He throws the ice water in my face and then he is gone.

--

When I wake up there is something cold on my face and it makes me wonder if I wasn’t dreaming. But when I reach up with my hand I feel a frozen pack of ice. The morphine must have worn off because my joints are aching and stiff. I pull the blanket off myself and attempt to sit up. Another heavy bag of ice falls off my hip and onto the floor. When I reach down to pick it up I have to stop halfway, the new stitches in my back giving a sharp tug. The bag will have to stay there.

Lina bursts into the room. “Mom, you’re awake.” She throws her arms around my neck. “How do you feel?”

I can only assume she is staring at the bruises on my face. “Who is downstairs with you Lina?”

“Oh, Ms Black is here, and Adam and someone named Bugtown Pane, I think…” She taps her little finger on her chin, trying to remember.

“Did you just say Bugtown?” I laugh lightly. Lina giggles back. “Did you mean Burton Crane?” I ask her, enunciating each syllable.

“Oh, yeah, that must be it. Mommy, Adam made the best pancakes, with apples in them, you have to try some.”

“Okay, Honey, I just want to get cleaned up first.”

Lina kisses my cheek and then I hear her run down the stairs announcing to everyone that I am awake.

The walk to the bathroom is painful. For the first time in my life I wish I had a cane. When I get to the vanity I inspect my face in the mirror. I had braced myself for the worst, but the ice packs must have helped. There is a cut on my bottom lip that still has the gleam from the dried medical glue. A bluish-green bruise covers my jaw. A collection of dried tears collected near both of my ears. I look down further to see the faint imprint of Baillie’s fingers across my neck. I try to think of what other damage was done to my body last night. I pull the band of my shorts away and stare at the large bruise covering my hip. I would like nothing more than to soak for an hour in a hot bath. But unfortunately the bathtub here is shallow, and short. So instead I take a long, hot shower.

The hot water rinses the dried blood from my body and it collects in a puddle by the drain. The scratches on my palms and knees burn under the soap. There’s a sharp ache in my chest. At first I try and remember if I injured myself, then I remember the dream, losing Ian. I realize the ache is not physical, but emotional. Thankfully the shower is loud enough to muffle my sobs.

I do my best to choose clothes that cover the wounds, even though the heat of summer is starting. I don’t want everyone seeing what happened to me last night, especially Lina. She has seen enough already. I pull on a pair of brown linen slacks, a loose black blouse, and sandals. I open my makeup case and try to cover the bruises on my face and neck. When I am done I stare at myself in the mirror. I hope I look presentable enough to go downstairs. Still, I don’t want to face Crane.

My descent down the stairs is slow and painful. Stevie waits at the bottom, wagging her tail. Adam shows up when I am close to the bottom and holds his hand out to me. But all I can think of is my dream, when Ian yelled at me. I don’t look at Adam or take his hand. Instead I hobble over to one of the plush living room chairs and ease myself down into its cushioned seat.

There’s a stack of books on the coffee table and sheets of paper with Lina’s handwriting on them. Ms Black is outside with Lina on the porch. They each hold magnifying glasses, looking at something on the railing. Crane eyes me from the couch. He looks pale and troubled, similar to last night when Adam carried in my busted body.

“How are you feeling?” Crane asks.

“I’ve felt better.”

I’m not in the mood for talking. And I’m sure whatever Crane wants to talk about will be serious, requiring me to use my foggy, aching brain.

“I’m sure you’re not up to talking right now, but there’s no time to waste.” He pauses, giving me a chance to speak up but I say nothing. “As you know Baillie has been dealt with. I tried to choose Committee members who wouldn’t hold such simple grudges, who had a higher level of thinking and compassion for others. Obviously he was the wrong man for what we are trying to do here. We will search for his replacement on the Committee. Until then, I think we should have Adam sit in on the Committee meetings. His background is superb; he may be just the person we need to take Baillie’s seat.” Crane pauses again and we both look to Adam. He’s still standing near the stairs, where I brushed him off. “We will be working around the clock on your new living quarters. Until then, you are not to leave this house without a Volker at your side.”

“Stop trying to keep me captive, Crane.”

“I’ve told you before, I’m trying to keep you safe. You obviously have no desire to keep yourself safe, which is apparent after you ventured out by yourself at night.”

“There was more to it. I couldn’t have Lina see what had been thrown through the window.”

“Yes. I figured. Either way, pack your things. Construction should be completed in a few days. Now that Mr. Baillie has departed us I’m sure I don’t have to worry about any more threats to your life. But, one can never be too careful.” With that Crane stands, bows to both of us and leaves.

I stare at the wall, fuming. I’m so tired of Crane telling me what to do. Controlling my life. Controlling my daughter’s life. I miss our old life. I miss Ian.

Adam sets a plate of pancakes in my lap, and a steaming cup of coffee on the table next to me. Ian rarely cooked. I was always the one cooking at home. I stare at them for a long time, trying not to cry again, thinking.

Lina bursts into the room. “Mommy, you have to try them. Oh, and look what we found.” She is holding what looks like a large black bug between her fingers. “It’s a cicada skin. Isn’t it cool?”  She giggles then bounds back out the door.

“You have a remarkable daughter, Andie.” Adam finally speaks from the couch where Crane was just sitting.

“Yes. I know. Everyone keeps telling me this.”

“I know last night was really bad, but you’re safe now. I want you to know I won’t let anything happen to you or Lina.”

“I know. You are required by District regulations to protect all Sovereign.”

“This is more than regulations, Andie.” A slight crease is starting to form in Adams forehead. I’ve seen it a few other times when he is concerned or slightly angered.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, everything is starting to sink in, and I just want my old life back…” I cover my face with my hands and take deep breaths, trying not to cry. Trying not to show Adam that I am much weaker than he probably already thinks I am.

Finally, when I recover, I eat the breakfast Adam made. Lina was right, the pancakes are delicious and so is the coffee. Adam sits for a while, watching me. I’m too embarrassed by my crying to look at him. When I’m done eating he takes my dishes to the kitchen and cleans them. I walk out onto the sunlit porch with Stevie and watch Lina inspect the yard with Ms. Black. They get along well together and Lina has already learned so much. Something at the edge of the yard catches my eye, a person in dark clothes. I lean forward to get a better look. It’s a Volker guard. I scan the yard and see more of them watching and patrolling near the trees and the lakeshore and the townhouses next to mine.

It’s not long before the pain in my hip and jaw start to ache. I turn around to go inside and the sight of Adam standing silently behind me startles me. “I think I need to go lay down,” I tell him flatly.

“That would be a good idea. You should get your rest after last night.”

He opens the sliding glass door for me and follows me inside. I scale the stairs slowly and lie down in my room. Adam shows up not long after I pull the covers over myself. He carries a bag of ice in each hand. He places one on my jaw, and then lifts the blanket, placing the other on my sore hip.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“I know.”

“No you don’t. I had a dream about Ian. It wasn’t good. It was actually pretty terrible.” I try to control the trembling of my chin.

“I know.” Adam pulls the blanket up to my shoulders.

“How do you know?” I ask.

“You talk in your sleep.”

He brushes a piece of hair off my forehead, tucking it behind my ear, just like Ian used to do, then he leaves the room. I wonder how much of the conversation he heard. Did he hear me pleading with Ian? Could he hear the guilt in my voice for leaving my husband behind?

I hear Lina giggling in the back yard. I focus on the sound of her voice and before long I am asleep. This time there are no morphine dreams.

chapter twelve

Lina wakes me. She’s tapping on my forehead, her eyes an inch away from my face, at least twice their normal size. They are so big I can see the tiny dark flecks in her green irises. I notice she’s examining me with the magnifying glass.

“Hi, mom,” she greets me, distracted with whatever she is looking at magnified on my face.  “Adam says dinner is ready.” She speaks through the glass, magnifying the size of her lips and baby teeth. I reach my arms out and hug her.

“I love you, little Catalina,” I whisper in her ear.

“I love you too mom. Let’s go.”

She pulls my hand trying to tug me out of bed. Getting up is much easier this time and so is walking down the stairs. I smell the sweet and tangy scent of spaghetti sauce and the pungent aroma of garlic. The table is set for three and I can see Adam’s back as he works at the stove.

“Where is Ms. Black?” I ask Lina.

“She went home. She said she would come back tomorrow and we can learn more fun things.”

Adam turns around. “Good, you’re up. Dinner’s done.”

Adam collects the plates from the table and takes them back to the kitchen. He returns a moment later, each plate piled high with spaghetti and garlic bread. Lina fills me in on her day as we eat. She talks nonstop, even with food in her mouth. Any other day, I would remind her that it’s not ladylike to talk with food in her mouth. But after all she’s been through, I decide it is ok for her to be a poor mannered child for the moment.

I still can’t bring myself to look Adam in the face. Even after all he has done for us. We clear the table together. Then I leave Adam in the kitchen while I get Lina ready for bed. She plays in the bathtub for a while and after she reads me a book. By the time I get her tucked into bed the sun is almost done setting over the lake.

I return to the living room to find Adam sitting on the couch. I hold back the urge to throw myself on the couch next to him and sit on the opposite end of it instead. I try to think about what I can say to thank him for all he’s done, to apologize for being rude to him earlier. I know it’s wrong that I want him to wrap his arms around me like he did last night when he carried me home after Baillie’s attack.

“I know you’re upset about Ian. Don’t you think he would have done the same thing if he were in your position right now?” Adam asks. He’s leaning back on the couch, arms resting on the side and back of the couch, pulling the fabric of his T-shirt tight against his bicep.

“I don’t know. I would hope that he would do whatever he could to protect Lina.” I stare at his arm, his chest; finally I look in his eyes, the now familiar pale blue.

“I think you are doing exactly what he would have done.” I know he’s just trying to make me feel better but the guilt of losing Ian still lingers in the back of my mind. “I know what it’s like to lose a member of your family.”

I remember he lost his entire family. I saw the fresh graves myself, when we were walking into town. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I shake my head and cover my eyes with my hand.

“How are your bruises?” Adam changes the subject.

“Fine, I guess. The only thing that hurts right now is my hip.”

Suddenly he is scooting himself closer to me, so he’s sitting mostly on my cushion of the couch. He reaches out, holding my chin gently with his fingers. I watch him nervously from between the fingers of the hand that is still across my eyes.

“The ice must have helped. The bruise on your jaw is barely visible.” He rubs his thumb across my bottom lip. “This looks good too.” He smiles a little. I think he’s looking at the cut on my lip. I hold my breath, afraid that he is so close to me, inspecting me. I tell myself it’s nothing, twice now he has seen me barely dressed, getting stitched together on the dining room table. Before I realize what he is doing Adam slides his arm under my legs and pulls me onto his lap.

“It’s ok, Andie,” he whispers in my ear.

I decide I can’t take it any longer, worrying about Ian, feeling guilty. I throw my arms around Adam and bury my face in his neck. His arms wrap around my back sliding gently over my stitches. We stay like this for a long time. I try not to think about everything. I tell myself that he has been through so much too. We were thrown into this situation together and that must mean something. It has to mean something.

We stay together on the couch until the early morning light colors the sky. Then Adam is leaving to get ready for work and I head upstairs to wake Lina and get ready for the day.

--

The next few days pass by in a blur. I spend a day re-packing everything we brought to the townhouse. Ms. Black shows up each morning to work with Lina on her schooling. One day she shows up with two paper coffee cups in her hand, each with a familiar logo imprinted on them. She hands me one.

“I heard a rumor that this is your favorite.”

I smell the cup. It is unmistakable, Starbucks coffee. None of these people know me very well, so I wonder who she has been speaking to.

“Sweet Jesus, how did you get this past the gates?”

“I know some secrets.” She smiles at me. “And it’s my favorite too.”

Ms. Black helps me carry a few things downstairs for the move. I work up enough courage to ask what her first name is. She laughs and responds “Blithe. Now you know why I don’t mind people calling me Ms. Black.”

“Blithe Black,” I repeat her name slowly, “I like it. That was my great grandmother’s name, Blithe. It means happy you know?”

“Yes well, look where I am now. A happy person would not volunteer to be part of this.”

“Wait, you volunteered?” I ask her.

“Yes. I was in Japan teaching at a private school for the children of U.S. Embassy personnel. Crane came to me, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, and here I am now.”

Lina interrupts us, asking for a snack. I want to ask her more questions but now is not the time. “Well, Blithe, you work very well with Lina, and I just want to thank you for all you’ve taught her.” I leave her with that and head to the kitchen to make Lina a snack.

Adam sends University Volker to help move everything to our new living quarters in the Chemistry Hall. One of the guards delivers a message that Adam couldn’t help since he was busy organizing Volker assignments for the entire District. Now that Baillie is gone, Adam has taken over most of his responsibilities, at the suggestion of Crane. It’s the first time a Volker has spoken to me. Usually they just stand nearby, watching. I look over the guard while he speaks. He’s young, almost too young in my mind. Freckles stretch across the bridge of his nose. He bows slightly when he addresses me and when he is done. Then he returns to his post outside the townhouse.

On the last trip to move our things, Lina, Stevie and I ride with the guard who has been parked outside of the house the past few days. He escorts us to the fourth floor of the building. I notice security cameras outside the building, pointing into the laboratory area and the elevator. I have the uneasy feeling that this building has been enhanced only to more easily monitor us, under the guise of protection.

When the elevator doors open I am in awe. Beyond a set of large glass doors, the fourth level of the building has been transformed into a large open loft with hardwood floors, freshly painted white walls, granite countertops and top of the line appliances. The main living space is huge with floor to ceiling windows that face a different view from the atrium. There are floor to ceiling windows everywhere, giving a view of most of the campus and the lake. Lina runs excitedly in the open space opening all the doors. Some lead to closets, a pantry, a bathroom and bedrooms on each side of the living room. There are even glass doors leading to an open courtyard on the roof of the third floor.

“Mom, I found my room,” Lina tells me excitedly. “And it’s my favorite color, pink.” She pulls my hand, leading me into the bedroom on the right, which is filled with shelves of books and toys. There is a large canopy bed and fuzzy plush carpet on the floor. The room is tastefully decorated with various shades of pink and white. Stevie runs into the room behind us and jumps onto Lina’s new bed, barking a few times as though she’s telling us she approves of the room too.

I leave Lina to play and unpack her things while I wander to the other bedroom. I am equally pleased with my bedroom. There is a large king size bed, a desk, the room is decorated with neutral earth tones and, again, large windows overlooking the forest to the west of the campus.

I turn around as I hear someone enter the room behind me.

“I take it you are pleased with the accommodations?” To my surprise Crane is standing in the bedroom behind me. Again in a black suit, this time a bright orange tie to match his hair.

“It’s very nice. But it’s too much. We don’t need all this. We were perfectly fine at the townhouse.” I walk towards the door trying to escape the room. I don’t want to be alone in this bedroom with Crane. He steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“Ah, but you were not so safe there. Look what happened. You will find it much different here; there will be guards, alarms, cameras. Everything you need to feel out of harm's way.” He smiles with a smug, satisfied look.

“Like I’ve said before, Burton, it feels like you are trying to keep me prisoner.” I have never called him by his first name before, but I try and spit it out arrogantly with a hint of a soft tone, just like he does when he calls me Andromeda.

“On the contrary, as I know I’ve told you before, this is all for your safety.” He pauses for a moment, staring at me. “I think one full day is enough for you to get settled. Prepare to get started in the laboratory and Catalina will start formal classes in the atrium.” He drops the tone of his voice. “Must I remind you that the Volker have been assigned for our protection? You may want to reassess your relationships. After all you are a District Sovereign, not some feeble minded Resident from one of our factions.” He gives me a stern look, as though I am a child who has done something wrong. Then Stevie is behind him, growling. “I will contact you shortly.” And with that Crane turns on his heel and walks briskly out of the living quarters.

His warning about the Volker is unsettling. There is only one person he could be hinting at: Adam.

chapter thirteen

The next morning Lina and I wake early. I barely slept, due to a barrage of strange noises and bad dreams. Each time I closed my eyes Ian was there, accusing me. More than once I woke with tears fresh on my face and heaviness in my chest from the guilt of leaving Ian behind.

We get ready for the day and walk down to the atrium. Ms. Black is waiting for us.

“Catalina, welcome to your new classroom.” She greets us both. “Congratulations on your first day in the lab.” She turns around and takes a cup off the table behind her, placing it in my hand. “Enjoy.”

I bring the cup to my nose and smell it. Starbucks.

“I don’t know how you keep getting this, but you’re going to have to stop before I come to expect it.” I take a sip of the fragrant, hot coffee.

I look around and inspect the makeshift classroom. A chalkboard has been attached to the wall, the syllabus for the day is already written neatly on it. I kiss and hug Lina and point to the lab, showing her where I will be for the day.

I walk to the glass doors, standing in front of them, watching the lab staff inside. They’re already busy running samples from all the residents. There is barely a noise when I open the door to enter, the rubber soles of my sandals quieting my footsteps. A short woman greets me as I enter. She is just a bit shorter than I am, barely reaching five feet, with almond eyes. Her hair is long and dark. She’s dressed professionally with a white lab coat.

“Hello.  My name is Kira, you must be Andromeda?” She holds her hand out.

“Please, call me Andie, when I hear Andromeda it feels like I am about to get in trouble.” I give her a smile and shake her hand.

“Ok, Andie, as you can see your lab is already analyzing samples. We have begun separating the resident’s genetic data from the samples that were taken, elongating the DNA sequences with PCR and running them on gels. It’s all quite straightforward, as you know. I’ve read all of your papers. I have everyone repeating the methods you published. Soon we will have data for you to analyze. If you’d like, I can introduce you to the staff.”

“That sounds good, Kira.”

She walks me through the lab, which I find more impressive when I get a closer look at all the supplies lining the countertops. Expensive reagents, top of the line micropipettes and PCR tubes. Crane spent a lot of money, but it will be worth it. The best materials will help us turn out the best results. As long as I can remember what I have to do.

There are three other people working in the lab, two men and a woman, to whom Kira introduces me. They have strong Japanese accents and it’s hard for me to make out what they’re saying. I do a lot of smiling and nodding, trying to make it look like I am involved in the small conversations. Eventually I give up and tell Kira I want to get the computer on my desk organized for the data.

I sit down and adjust the office chair so I can reach the desktop comfortably. I search the desktop computer for the power button so I can turn it on. After a few minutes of searching I notice the computer screen in the middle is thicker that the other two. There are multiple USB ports lining the side of the monitor which must mean all of the computer's innards are housed on the back of the middle monitor. I push the power button and wait for everything to turn on.

I pretend to organize the computer, but mostly I move the icons around on the screens and try to get used to having three monitors.

I take a break to have lunch with Lina and Ms. Black. Then I return to my desk. I’m anxious, knowing that my work will ensure our safety with Crane. The human genome contains at least thirty thousand genes. Thankfully the government has identified many of those genes. But Crane wants me to dig deeper into the genome to look for biological pathways which haven’t been highly researched. Since I haven’t been in a lab in over four years, I decide to review my old journal articles and prepare myself for the deluge of data I am about to receive. I search the computer for electronic copies and find an icon on the monitor screen in the shape of a book. When I click on it I see that Crane has made all the latest published research available. Of the few things I know about computers this also means that he has secured an internet access communications line to the outside world.

We can communicate to the outside world. I just have to figure out how.

chapter fourteen

After four nights of nightmares, of seeing Ian in my sleep, throwing his wedding band through the front window of our house, I decide I can’t take it anymore. I have to see Ian with my own eyes. I have to see if I made the right decision by choosing Lina over him.

“I need you to watch Lina,” I whisper to Ms. Black after lunch.

“Why?” She asks looking at me skeptically.

“I need to do something. It’s important. I’ll be quick. I know you’ll keep her safe. Please.” I mouth to her.

“You had better hurry. School is over in less than two hours.” She gives me a warning look. Then I am off.

Most people don’t know that there is a tunnel in the basement of this building. I remember it from when I went to college here. It was reserved for those blustery cold days when walking across the icy wind blown campus was unbearable. I use the elevator to get to the basement level and walk down the main hallway. There are no security cameras here. I see the familiar old wooden door with a desk pushed in front of it. I push the desk out of the way and pull open the heavy door. I flick the light switch on the wall. Bright fluorescent lights illuminate a long windowless hallway that leads to the biology building. I run down the hall and yank the door open at the other end. Thankfully it’s unlocked. There are two doors, one leading into the lower level of the biology building and one leading outside. Since I know they have been using the biology building for testing the residents and classes for the younger residents, I push hard on the door leading to the outdoors. The fresh air and sunlight wrap around me as I leave the cold underground tunnel. For the first time in a long time I have some tiny sense of freedom. But I know it won’t last long, because I have to come back here for my daughter.

I run across the campus parking lot to the nearby street. My old house is not too far from here, maybe a thirty minute walk. I walk fast, keeping my head down. No one looks at me. Not even the Volker passing by in black SUVs, or any of the residents working outside, sweeping the streets and sidewalks.

By the time I make it to the bridge my heart is thumping hard in my chest. I’m halfway to my old house now and I know Crane will make me pay dearly for this if he finds out.

Today it’s hot outside and a thick line of sweat trickles down the middle of my back. I walk faster, being just five or six blocks away now and the anticipation is growing, tingling in my arms and legs. It is all I can do not to break into a sprint. I keep walking, moving over to a side street where I will be less noticeable. It’s not long before I can see the house. My house, with the plants still flowering in front of the porch. The flag is gone, but it’s still my house. I pause for a moment before walking up onto the porch. The house looks empty. Even though it’s only been a few weeks, it seems like forever since I was here last. I step up on the porch and reaching for the door, I inhale deeply and turn the door handle. It’s unlocked.

The house is immaculate. It still has the familiar smell of lavender, the smell of home. But it looks bare with all of Lina’s toys gone. All of our family pictures have been taken down from the walls. I head to the office, to the filing cabinet drawer where I keep all of my old files from the research lab I worked in. The drawer squeaks loudly when I pull it open. Thankfully all my old files are there along with the memory card I was looking for. I grab the small memory card that’s attached to a black lanyard and place it over my neck. This has all the data I analyzed, my old files, calculations, and spreadsheets. This is my back up plan if I get caught.

“What are you doing in here?” asks a familiar voice.

When I turn around Ian is standing in the doorway. He looks thinner and his blonde hair is cut short making it look dark. I stop myself from running at him and throwing my arms around him. I remember all too well what happened last time I did.

“Who are you? What are you doing?” He asks, looking confused.

“It’s me, Andie. Don’t you remember me?”

Ian stares blankly at me. He has no idea who I am. “Am I supposed to know you?” he asks flatly.

“It’s me, your wife. Don’t you remember me?” I plead with him.

“I don’t have a wife.”

He is not accusing me, holding me accountable for my actions, for abandoning him and for not saving him too. This is not the Ian from my dream.

I hear the front door open and bang against the wall.

“Andie!” It’s a voice I recognize immediately. Adam. I brush past the confused and slightly irritated Ian.

“Adam. What are you doing here? How did you know-”

“Stop,” He interrupts me sternly. He’s angry, like I’ve never seen him before. “Let’s go.”

“What is going on here? What do you two think you are doing in my house?”

Ian has followed me into the living room. “Who are you people?” he asks, his voice getting louder. He’s starting to get annoyed.

Adam interrupts him holding the palm of his hand up in front of Ian’s face. “Remain calm, Ian. This was a mistake. Remain calm, Ian.  Remain calm.”

Ian stops and cocks his head to the side. His expression changes slowly and he becomes more relaxed.

“Remain calm,” Ian repeats to himself, pondering the phrase in his head.

Adam backs up and takes my hand, pulling me out of the house, closing the door behind him and bringing me to a waiting SUV.

“How did you know where I was, Adam?” I get the feeling Crane is keeping a closer watch on me than I originally thought.

“Let’s just say I had a feeling.” He throws the vehicle into gear and speeds off. “Do you know what Crane would have done if he had found out you went there?” I can tell Adam is angry with me. He drives fast through the town streets, ignoring every stop sign and traffic light.

“I don’t care.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I had to get some files.”

Adam stares me down from the driver’s seat, he doesn’t slow the vehicle. “You’re lying. You went to see Ian.” My cheeks start to flush with embarrassment. After all Adam has done for me and I lie to him. Here I am, still afraid to trust him. “I’m sure Crane hasn’t instructed you on how to deal with the residents yet? You can’t just force yourself on them. Drop in and say hello. They have to be prepared, even the smallest glitch in their day can set them off. You have to make sure they stay calm, we can’t risk an uprising.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know-” I start but Adam interrupts me.

“That’s right you don’t know. Crane has you secluded in this little bubble. He doesn’t tell you things.” I start to wonder if Adam is talking about more than just dealing with the residents. “I’m not Crane, but I also don’t want to find your bloodied body on the side of the road, again.” His voice lowers and the angered look on his face softens. “We’ve played that game already. I’m sure you remember quite clearly because I do.”

We’re back on campus now and Adam slows down. He parks behind the chemistry building, throwing the SUV into park before it has come to a complete stop. The force of the suddenly stopping vehicle throws me forward; Adam throws his arm in front of me, stopping me from hitting the dash.

“Sorry,” he says, his arm lingering a little too long in front of me.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out.

As Adam escorts me into the Atrium, the Volker by the door looks shocked at my sudden appearance outside. Adam salutes the guard and walks towards the elevator with me.

“Show me how you got out, Andie.”

I’m reluctant to show him, because I know my secret passage will most likely disappear. Then I will be truly trapped in this giant glass building. Still, I take him to the basement level and show him the tunnel.

“It’s the secret tunnel everyone always talked about in college. Only a few students got to use it, so not many know where it actually is,” I tell him.

Adam looks down the long hallway, impressed.

“Good to know.” He flicks off the hallway light, leaving us with only the soft glow from the elevator light. “Andie.” Adam’s face is by my neck, his nose rubbing against the cartilage of my ear. We haven’t been this physically close in a long time. We haven’t had any time alone with my work in the lab, taking care of Lina and him running the Volker faction. “This could work out well for both of us. Have you told anyone else?” he whispers in my ear. The moist heat from his breath sends tingles down the back of my neck.

“No,” I croak out. I take a moment to clear my throat. “I haven’t told anyone but you.”

“Good,” he replies. I feel him step closer to me in the darkness. His hands brush my cheek as they move to my hair, his fingers entwining in my curls, tipping my head back. His mouth finds mine. His lips feel warm and firm. My arms move on their own, up his chest and around the back of his neck into his hair. He pushes his body up against mine until my back hits the cold cement wall behind us. “I’ve been waiting to get you alone for so long.” He doesn’t give me any time to respond before his lips are back on mine, kissing me harder, hungrier than the first kiss. He leaves a trail of damp kisses across my jaw line, to my ear, my neck. I can feel the heat flushing to my face, my heart fluttering, my ears ringing, my entire body feeling like it is on fire. He moves his hands down my shoulders, my sides, stopping at my waist, wrapping his long fingers around the sensitive skin just above the waist of my jeans, pulling me closer to him. Then his lips are back on mine. His warm hands stretch around my back, pulling me even closer to him.

Somehow, he tears his mouth from mine, both of us breathing heavily; he rests his forehead against mine. “Andie…” Listening to Adam say my name sends more tingles throughout my body. “It’s time to go.” Placing his hand on the side of my neck, he kisses me one last time, and I’m sure he can feel my rapid pulse in response to what he just did to me. I don’t want to leave this place, this moment in time, but I know he’s right.

He takes my hand, pulling me to the elevator. Once we are inside he resumes his professional Volker stance, with his hands behind his back. I know he is doing this because of the cameras monitoring us, but I want him near me, I want his hands back on my waist, and his lips back on mine.

As Adam escorts me to the lab we stop to see Lina and Ms. Black on our way through the atrium. He pulls a small flower out of his pocket for each of them. Lina squeals with excitement when he places it in her little hand.

“It’s a little rose, I l-o-v-e roses,” she exclaims, giving Adam a hug.

I watch them, Adam reaches down to hug her back, smiling widely.

He leaves me at the front door of the lab, and returns to whatever he was doing before I got myself into trouble. I return to my desk and the data I was working on. The lab workers mill about. I don’t even think they noticed I was gone. I stare at the spreadsheet in front of me and try to clear my head, which is hard to do after what just happened in the dark hallway. I press my fingers to my lips, feeling something, something other than the remnants of Adam’s heated kisses on my lips. It’s not long before I can place it, because I had a similar feeling when I abandoned all those babies at the hospital: guilt and shame.

chapter fifteen

Something on my desk is ringing, an endless shrill ring. It sounds like a phone. The lab workers stop what they’re doing, looking at me, waiting for me to answer it. But at first I can’t find where it’s coming from, until I finally notice a small black phone tucked into the corner of the desk.

When I answer it I hear Crane’s voice on the other end. “There will be a Committee meeting in one hour. I will send an escort. I look forward to seeing you soon.” Then I hear the click of the other line hanging up. He didn’t give me a chance to talk or say goodbye. I wonder if it was a recording.

We haven’t had a Committee meeting in over a week and I worry if Crane found out about my escape, if he will hand down some punishment in front of the other committee members to humiliate me. I save my work and stand up to find the lab manager, Kira. She’s sitting at a computer in the corner, carefully entering Resident codes into a file so we can identify their data.

“Kira,” I touch her shoulder, startling her. “Crane called a Committee meeting. I’ll be back when it’s over.”

She smiles and nods her head at me. Sometimes I wonder why I bother telling her I’m leaving, everyone in the lab must know I’ll be back; there’s nowhere else for me to go.

I walk to the atrium where Ms. Black is working with Lina. Today there is another child with her, a little boy around the same age. He’s been selected from the population as being gifted and from now on he will be schooled with Lina, together they will be prepared as the next generation of District Sovereign. I shudder at the thought of my daughter’s future; it only intensifies my desire to find a way out of here.

Ms. Black stops what she’s doing and waits for me to speak. “Crane has called a Committee meeting,” I tell her.

“Lina, Cashel, lets clean up before we go,” she tells the children.

Lina and the little boy stop writing. I help Blithe take them to the bathroom and collect a bag with snacks and a few toys. “How old is Cashel?” I ask Ms. Black while we are getting ready to go.

“He’s seven.”

“But Lina’s only five. Should they really be working together?”

“Lina excels for her age group. You’ll see. Just watch them.” Ms. Black squeezes my elbow. “Don’t worry, Andie, we won’t let her hang out with the bad boys.”

I force a smile through the realization that my child is growing up much too fast. Then it hits me. Her birthday is just a few months away, soon she will be six.

When we return to the atrium Adam is waiting for us. I control the urge to smile at him or touch him or show any hint that our relationship is anything more than professional, not with everyone here-and the cameras-watching.

“Are you our escort?” I ask when we get close.

“Of course, Crane only sends his best Volker.” I let a small laugh escape. “Actually, I was nearby so I offered to collect you all since we are going to the same meeting.” Adam now sits in Baillie’s spot at the Committee meetings, as a voice for the Volker faction. “Would anyone like to walk today?” he asks.

I’m surprised when he asks.  We haven’t been allowed to walk more than a few hundred yards from the chemistry building.

“Yes! Yes! Let’s walk,” Lina speaks up.

Ms. Black and I both nod in agreement.

There’s a sidewalk with a direct path to the now renamed District Headquarters building.  We walk as a large group, Lina and the new boy stopping along the way to pick flowers, or to ask Ms. Black a question. I fall into line next to Adam, skipping a few steps to keep up with his long stride. Finally he slows a little.

“I forgot what it was like trying to walk next to you. Perhaps we should have driven.”

“It’s not my fault the world is filled with tall people,” I respond. He gives a light chuckle.

“What do you think this Committee meeting will be about?” he asks.

“Adam, didn’t Crane tell you? The first rule of The Phoenix District Sovereign Committee meetings is you don’t talk about Committee meetings.” I wait for his response, but he doesn’t say anything. “And the second rule of The Phoenix District Sovereign Committee meetings is you don’t talk about Committee meetings.” Still nothing. “Well, I thought it was funny,” I reply to myself.

A thoughtful expression has crept up on Adam’s face. “Andie, did it ever occur to you, if Crane doesn’t want anyone talking about the meetings, it’s because he wants to be there to control the course of the meetings? That he may be keeping something else from you? Sometimes rules are meant to be broken.”

We complete the rest of the walk in silence, his words igniting an even larger firestorm of suspicion inside of me.

--

When we get to the Committee Meeting room it has been completely transformed. There’s new plush carpet and heavy curtains hang on each end of the vast window. There are thin laptop computers at each of the seats around the large circular table. The room has been partitioned with a glass wall and door. On the other side of the glass the room is filled with toys, games, books, two computers, everything to keep a child entertained during a long Committee meeting.

Crane, Morris and Alexander are already sitting at the table. They rise, walking over to greet us as we enter the room.

“Ah, welcome,” Crane begins, with his usual smug expression. “I hope you will enjoy the improvements to the room.” He opens his arms wide, waiting for our response.

Today’s tie color is red.  I am not fond of the color red.

“It’s very nice, Crane,” I respond.

Ms. Black escorts the children to the play area. Alexander and Morris walk over and introduce themselves to Adam. They take the time to shake my hand and welcome me back, which I don’t completely understand since I didn’t go anywhere.

“Everyone, please take your seats and let us get started,” Crane announces.

As I walk closer to the table I notice the seats are now assigned with plaques bearing our names. Alexander and Morris sit side by side, Adam is across the table from me, and my place is marked to the right of Crane’s seat. Crane taps his hammer on the copper plate and the meeting begins. He instructs us on how to log into the laptops in front of us. From now on we will be taking notes and signing in agreement electronically. Crane informs us that we are working on a secure closed network to ensure the safekeeping of our work. “Let’s start with updates on how each faction is progressing,” Crane continues. “Morris, Alexander, let’s start with you both.”

Alexander and Morris nod simultaneously. They take turns talking about the factions that are keeping the District running. The Orderlies have done a spectacular job keeping the district clean, they have removed truckloads of litter and garbage from the town leaving it the cleanest it’s ever been. The Navigators have produced adequate routes to provide transportation to all of the District residents with minimal fossil fuel consumption. The Currents have the hydroelectric plant on the river running at eighty percent and the nuclear power plant is running at thirty percent, which has been generating more than enough power to run the city. They continue for what seems like an hour or more. I start to lose interest until I hear Morris mention the farms beyond the wall.

Something I didn’t know but eagerly learn by listening closely to Morris as he speaks, is that it seems the Cultivators are allowed to live outside the cement wall of the Phoenix District. Each day Residents are transported to the farms to help with the animals, maintain the crops, upkeep roads and disable the former main roads which were used to get into town.

“While the crops are already producing an excellent yield, it may not be enough to get us through the long winter. We may want to consider greenhouses or getting one of the local food processing plants operational so we don’t have a food crisis come winter,” Alexander says finishing his long discourse.

Crane is nodding his head in agreement as he responds, “We may need to start running the train again to collect supplies and bring them in. This brings us to our next topic. We need to assign a Runner for the District.” Crane looks to Adam.

“I have a few recruits that may be viable options,” Adam speaks up.

I have no idea what they are talking about. “What is a Runner?” I interrupt.

“Oh, Andromeda, I forgot you were not at our last meeting when we discussed the specifics of the District Runner,” Crane smiles arrogantly at me.

I am surprised by his revelation, that there was a meeting held without me. “I thought meetings were only to commence if all District Sovereign were present?” I ask.

“Yes, but you were busy healing. I thought it best to let you mend. Don’t fret. It was a very short meeting. I can fill you in right now.” He clears his throat loudly. “We discussed the necessity for having a District Runner, as you know the rules of the District are that no one enters or exits the gate. Currently the rest of the world thinks this area is a desolate nuclear blast site. The Runner will be the only one allowed out and back in. They will collect supplies and organize shipments via the heavily guarded train which is located in the most northern area of the District, complete with a guarded entry and exit. The Runner will be heavily trained, a tracking device implanted under their skin so they can be monitored from here. They will also be responsible for transporting information to our Funding Entities.”

“Okay,” I reply. I feel stupid for not knowing that I missed a meeting. But Crane never said anything to me about. Adam must have been right. Crane has been letting us believe this entire time that the District Sovereign are responsible for making decisions for the Residents, for watching over them. But Crane is the one pulling the strings, organizing and planning. I know he’s using us to manage the Residents, because he can’t do it all on his own.

“So, Andromeda, how about you fill us in on your progress with your work?” Crane changes the subject, interrupting my thoughts. He can probably tell that I am seething.

“Every Resident’s DNA sample has been analyzed with the microarray. And they’re currently being assigned codes so their names won’t be visible during analysis, to prevent any bias. Once the codes are fully assigned then I can begin my analysis. Currently, I’m backing up the raw data to a secure hard drive.” I look to Crane when I am done. I know the only thing keeping me here, keeping me and Lina safe, is my ability to analyze that data and give Crane what he wants.

“Excellent Andromeda.” His pleasure in my response helps me feel a tiny bit safer. “Everyone please sign their summary of today’s meeting and then we can all get back to work, running the District.”

We leave the room together but Crane stays behind working on his laptop. Breaking another rule, the Committee Meeting Room is to be locked at all times unless there is a meeting in session.  Adam escorts us back to the Chemistry building.

--

“Mom, can Adam come over and make us spaghetti for dinner?” Lina is looking through the cupboards and the fridge for something to eat.

“Dinner’s not for a few more hours, Lina,” I call from the couch as I read a journal article on inherited behavior modification.

“But I’m hungry now.”

“Lina, Adam has been very busy. I don’t know if he has time to come over.” He’s been so busy I’ve barely seen him for days. But that doesn’t stop me from reliving those few moments we had together in the dark basement of this building, when I showed him the secret tunnel.

“Please, Mom, please.” Lina scrunches her face into a sad frown.

I could call him. The operator could connect me to where ever he is right now. But I’ve never tried it before. Finally I give in, “Okay, Lina. I’ll try and call him.”

“Yay!” Lina pumps her little fists in the air and runs in a circle.

I walk over to the phone on the wall and pick it up. There is a dull tone before it rings twice. “Phoenix District Operator, how may I direct your call?” The woman’s voice on the other end is pleasant and polite.

“I need to speak with Adam Waters.”

“I’m sorry that name is not in my directory. Is there someone else?”

That’s strange, why would it not be in the directory. I think for a moment. “Do you have Colonel Waters, Volker Sovereign?”

“Yes, one moment.” The phone rings twice, again, before it’s answered.

“Hello.” The voice is unmistakable.

“Adam?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Andie, I hope I’m not interrupting.” I pause for a moment. “Lina wants you to come over and make spaghetti for dinner. If you can, she’s been begging me.”

“Sure. I’ll be there later.” He hangs up without saying goodbye. It feels odd, the conversation; his responses were short. He must have been busy with something I tell myself.

Lina and I busy ourselves with cleaning before Adam gets there. I look in my closet for something nicer to wear, but I am sorely disappointed. All I have are the few clothes from my old closet.  I give up after a few moments and stick with the jeans and loose black top that I have on.

I’m helping Lina rearrange her stuffed animals when I hear the doors open from the elevator and someone shout my name. When I walk out into the living room I see Adam behind the glass door, carrying two bulging bags of groceries. I open the doors and take one of the bags from his hands. He sets the other bag down on the counter and pulls something out of his pocket. I watch him as he walks the perimeter of the rooms, near the power outlets and phone. He makes his way back to where I’m standing. “I was checking for listening devices.” I look at the small, strange box in his hand. “It’s a bug detector.”

“Where did you get that?”

“I made it.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I am a man of many talents, Andie.” I eye him skeptically. “Anyway, lucky for you, Crane has allowed you some privacy, this place is clean.”

“So we can say whatever we want?” I ask mockingly.

“Well, within reason.” He smiles at me.

I hear Lina’s little feet running across the room. “Adam! I thought you were never going to come.” Her sweet voice takes on a grave tone. “I’m starving.” She rubs her little belly dramatically.

“Well that’s good. I brought all this food for you to eat. So, let’s show your mom how to make the world’s best spaghetti.”

I watch as Adam helps Lina measure out spices and mix the sauce adding fresh spinach, onions and garlic. He pours out a box of dry spaghetti on a plate and has her break the long pieces in half before they go into a pot of boiling water. While Lina fills him in on the day of a five-year old, I set the table.

“Supplies are starting to get low at the store so I picked up a few things for you. I hope you don’t mind.” Adam sets a lid on the sauce and empties out the remaining grocery bag. He’s brought us frozen vegetables, rice, pasta, milk, some canned fruit, and fresh bananas. Lina moves on to rearranging the silverware I set out.

“Thanks. How low is the stock?” I ask as I move towards him to put the groceries away.

“The shelves are still full, but I heard Morris and Alexander, they were at the store talking about how the last of the overstock had just been put out.”

“But they said in the last meeting that we had enough food until winter.”

“They must have miscalculated. I’m assuming Crane is going to start rationing out the food until the fall harvest has been collected. Even then, I’m not sure there will be enough.”

“What should we do?”

“We need to get the Runner out of the District and get more supplies, soon.” He gives me a concerned look. The timer on the counter rings. “Dinner’s done.”

We listen to Lina talk nonstop while we eat. She fills Adam in on her new classmate, Cashel, the boy who was chosen to be trained as one of the next District Sovereign with Lina. Ms. Black thinks there will be at least two more children of various ages joining them soon. Adam talks with Lina, asking her questions, telling her jokes. I watch them, completely absorbed in the easy way he interacts with her. He must notice because he stops a few times, making eye contact with me, smiling. I try not to let thoughts of Ian creep into my mind, the horrible dreams I’ve been having about him.

When the sun starts to set over the lake, I collect the plates and start cleaning up. And when I tell Lina it’s time to get ready for bed she gives me an exaggerated pout-face. I get her bathed and dressed for bed, noticing as she puts on her pajamas that the legs end high above her ankles. She must have had a growth spurt recently, meaning the clothes I have from last winter are not going to fit her. The thought of having to find new clothes for her when supplies in the District are already low troubles me.

“Mom, I want to tell Adam goodnight,” Lina pleads with me.

“Ok sweetie, be quick, you need your rest.” I watch her run out to the living area and throw her arms around Adam’s waist and tell him goodnight. I get her settled in the large canopy bed with Stevie sleeping at the foot of it. She pulls the small white owl out from underneath her pillow and cuddles it close to her face.  I kiss her and tuck her in, her eyelids already heavy with sleep. She rolls over and closes her eyes.

“I love you, mommy,” she tells me before falling asleep.

“I love you, my little Catalina.”

Adam is waiting in the kitchen when I leave Lina’s room.

“Is it okay for me to call you? You seemed distracted,” I ask him.

“Crane was there. We were discussing the recruits who are being trained for the Runner position.”

“How is that going?”

I watch his face closely as he talks. He tells me that there are two recruits, one is a former army ranger, and the other was training to be a local Sheriff. They were both struggling with memorizing-the now secret-routes in and out of the District. Then he tells me that he is taking them on a trial run, outside the cement wall to the chain link fence surrounding the District. “It’s going to take a few days. I’ll be gone.”

“Why do you have to go?” I ask.

“Because I’m a Marine, this is what I’ve been doing for years, remember? This is going to be a dangerous job. The recruits have to be properly trained.”

“You told them didn’t you? What you did for the military? Do you think that was a good idea?” I feel like Crane is using him, just like he is using me. And I’m afraid of what he plans to do with us when we’re done, or when the organization of the District fails, or if it prevails, under Crane’s control.

“It was the best idea. You keep your friends close, but the Sovereign District Mediator closer.” He walks towards me, invading my personal space, filling it up with his heat and electricity.

“Aren’t you considered a District Sovereign now? We aren’t allowed to leave, we decided in the committee meetings.” I repeat the rule to him, “A District Sovereign is responsible for watching over the residents of the District. If you leave, how can you do that?”  I don’t want him to go beyond the cement wall.  I don’t want him to leave me and Lina here, alone with Crane.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m the only one with intelligence training.”

“You think Crane doesn’t have some intelligence crony hidden away somewhere? He keeps bringing all these people from Japan to help out here.”

“If he does, he hasn’t told me.”

“Are you coming back?” I’m afraid he will leave us and never return. I’ve already lost Ian and I can’t bear the thought of losing Adam too.

He reaches out, pulling me closer to him, touching his forehead to mine. “Don’t worry, Andie.  I will always be back for you.” He wraps his arms around my back. When he gets to the rough scars from the wolf attack he stops, pulling away abruptly. “Do you still have those stitches in?”

My face flushes with embarrassment. I pull away from his grasp. “I didn’t have anyone to take them out,” I tell him, walking away, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Andie, they’ve been in for over three weeks-”

“I didn’t want the wounds to pull open again,” I interrupt him, defensively. “And besides you’ve been busy for weeks. I had to call you just to get you to visit. Who am I supposed to ask, Crane?” The thought of Crane touching me sends a chill down my back.

He sighs, “You know better than I do that they can’t be left in. Go get your medical scissors. I’ll take them out right now.”

“Fine.”

I head for the bathroom, searching the drawers for the medical kit with the small scissors. My fingers tremble as I search. I’m nervous, not that Adam is the one taking them out, I’m nervous it’s going to hurt like hell because they’ve been in so long. I find the scissors and bring them to Adam.

He snips at the threads, the same way he did so many weeks ago, after the first round of stitches. The skin has grown around a few of the stitches and he has to pull hard to get them out. When he’s done he runs his thumb over the three thick scars that slash across my lower side and back. I can barely feel it. The nerves under the skin have been too damaged, and the scar tissue too deep from being stitched together twice. I can, however, feel his fingertips pressing into the sensitive skin near my hip. I pull away from him and let the back of my shirt fall into place. After what happened in the basement, I’m not sure I could stop myself if it happened again, or the intense feelings of guilt afterwards.

I try and change the subject. “When are you leaving for this trial run?”

“Tomorrow.”

“What? I thought you meant in a few days. You’re leaving tomorrow? Were you even going to tell me?” I am suddenly furious with him and the fact that he waited until the last minute to tell me he was heading out into the forest beyond the cement wall.

“I was going to tell you-” He stands up from the dining room chair he was sitting in to take my stitches out.

“When?” I interrupt him.

“Andie, I just found out today. Crane ordered it.” He steps towards me, his blue eyes pleading with me. “I told you, I need you to trust me.” He reaches out, brushing his hand across my cheek. “I need to see what’s out there, the train, how heavily guarded it is. I’m trying to figure out what Crane’s plan is, so we can get out of here. But I need you to stay here, where you’re safe, and wait for me to get back.”

Oh how I want to trust him, part of me wants to let him be my knight-in-shining-armor, the one who can save us, who will help us escape. But I wonder how many private meetings he’s had with Crane and what else he may be keeping from me. He keeps telling me to trust him. And I want to. But I have this nagging feeling that while Crane keeps me locked up in this glass building, there is so much more going on with the creation of the Phoenix District-things that aren’t being discussed in the Committee meetings. Things they are keeping from me. So even if I don’t fully trust Adam, I can’t let him know. I need him to get us out of here.

I walk towards Adam and wrap my arms around his neck, standing on my toes to reach him. “I do trust you,” I whisper in his ear, “I just don’t want you to go.”

He looks deep into my eyes and it’s only a second before his mouth finds mine. That worked a little too well. His hand cups my jaw while the other presses me closer to him. And suddenly, it’s like we’re back in the dark hallway. My skin tingles under his touch. My head feels full and dizzy, my heart starts pounding faster. I move my hands to his chest, intent on pushing him back, but I stop, feeling the hard muscle under his shirt. And then, just what I was afraid of, I can’t stop myself.

Adam lifts me in his arms in one swift movement, and carries me to the bedroom, setting me down near the large bed. I can feel the warm flush filling my cheeks, my heart racing. We’re both adults, who are obviously attracted to each other, but I didn’t intend for us to go this far, to wind up in the bedroom. The tension is thick and my heart races. I fumble with the buttons on Adam’s shirt, nervous. I’ve never been alone with another man like this, only Ian, my now lost husband.

Adam covers my hands with his, stopping my feeble attempt with the buttons. He bends down, kissing me slowly. His lips move against mine, his tongue pressing into my mouth. I forget about the buttons and try not to let my knees buckle.

“It’s okay,” he whispers in my ear, kissing my jaw. He steps back and finishes unbuttoning his shirt. I try to keep my eyes on his face, his eyes, his dark hair, his square jaw. He stops for a moment, just before taking his shirt off, looking at me, offering me the option to stop this. Part of me wants to run from the room and stop myself before it goes too far, but the other part wants to be with him, to get out all the tension I feel every time he’s near me. He pulls the shirt off his shoulders and holds it in his hand. I wish he would have prepared me, warned me, for what I was about to see. I knew he had a few tattoos. I’ve seen them peeking out from under his shirt sleeves. But I wasn’t prepared to see this. I wasn’t prepared for all the scars.

There’s an entire barrage of them covering his upper body, his chest and abdomen, he turns around and I see they continue onto his back, across his shoulder blades. There are long slashes, small burn marks, large burn marks, and healed bullet pockmarks marring his body. There are deep purple marks with the tiny holes from a poor suture job across his ribs. They pull at his skin, skewing the natural outlines of where his muscle would be. He doesn’t say anything, he just watches me, waiting for my reaction, his eyes hopeful.

“Oh my God, Adam, what happened to you?” I try to control my facial expressions, the shock that must be overly apparent on my face.

“My job,” he replies, disappointment evident in his tone.

Adam starts putting his shirt on, covering up the scars, buttoning it up so I can’t stare any longer. In only a few moments he is back to the handsome, dark haired man I’ve come to know. I stand still, unable to move, watching him. When the initial shock wears off, I feel terrible. He exposed what must have been a painful secret to me and I just stood there, unable to move like a jerk, a coward. He starts walking towards the door. And for a moment I’m filled with the sudden fear that he really is going to leave me. He is going to leave the loft and go for the trial run and never talk to me again and then I will truly be left alone under Crane’s rule, with no escape.

Somehow I force my arms and legs to move and throw myself at him, just as he gets to the doorway of the bedroom. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I clasp my arms around his neck, crushing myself to him.

“There’s no way you could have known. No one knows. You’re the first person I’ve shown.”

“Don’t go, please.” I pull him by his arm to the overstuffed couch. Both of us sink into its deep cushions. Adam reaches over and pulls me onto his lap. I rest my head on his chest, feeling the strong thud of his heart and I listen as he tells me the story of how he earned his scars.

He was on a mission in Iraq, there was a breach of security, and someone had released a list of all the agents that were currently working in the Middle East. Since Adam was their best man, he was sent in to recover the list and find out who sold it. He was heavily disguised, but it wasn’t good enough, they knew who he was. He was captured, imprisoned and tortured for information regarding U.S. Intelligence. The leaders of the Middle Eastern countries traded him for months, each trying new techniques to get information out of him. Eventually they gave up, dumping his body outside of a U.S. Embassy in Turkey, as a warning against further infiltration. His deployment to Germany was a guise for his family so they wouldn’t have to see his battered body. There he received medical attention for his wounds, a thorough debriefing of what he saw, who he saw, and to undergo post traumatic rehabilitation. Then he got word of the accident and that his entire family had died. Finally, two months later they gave him leave to return and mourn.

When he’s done I don’t know what to say. My heart aches for all the pain he’s endured. We sit in silence. Eventually both of us fall asleep, wrapped around each other on the couch. It’s the first night I have slept in the loft and not been woken up by nightmares.

We wake early enough to get Adam out of the loft before Lina is awake.

“Come back to me,” I tell him before he turns to leave.

And then Adam is gone, and I have no idea when I will see him again.

chapter sixteen

We have been held in the Chemistry building for over a month now. All of our lives, changed dramatically. From this isolated building I don’t get to see any of the town or speak with its residents. I only have the information from the past committee meetings, because I’m quite certain that Crane isn’t disclosing all of the details.

Crane doesn’t call any Committee meetings. Instead he shows up at the lab, always unannounced and unexpected. He watches the lab workers, talks with Kira; he tries to talk with me. I can’t help but be standoffish with him. I know there are things he is not telling me. He chose us as District Sovereign. Subsequently, I feel like he should be telling us everything. Finally, after his third visit, I give in and show him some of the data I’m working on, mostly out of fear that he will take Lina from me again. Crane seems pleased with my progress and for that he relays a bit of information to me: The helpers from the Japanese District have been slowly dwindling out of our town since most of their duties are complete. The Phoenix District has now entered the phase where it’s running smoothly on its own.

When Crane finally leaves, he stops in the atrium to watch Ms. Black as she teaches the children. Another child has joined the group. Another boy, this one older, is eight. Lina seems to get along well with them. Ms. Black takes them on guarded fieldtrips around the District. One day I went with them to the park by the docks. They were allowed to play with the other District children. This trip didn’t seem as lonely as our last trip to the park, when all the mothers stood away from me, staring. This time I had Ms. Black to talk to. She tells me that the boys were taken from their families; they live on campus with her now. They will be allowed to visit their families on the weekends. Their parents have been told that they are studying at a boarding school for advanced children. They don’t know that their sons have been chosen as the next generation’s District Sovereign. I feel sad for them, and grateful, that Lina is allowed to stay with me. Still, I wonder what Crane has told Ian about us, or if he even remembers us.

--

I work, patiently waiting for Adam to return from the trial run. The first day was the longest, dragging on, each minute feeling like an hour. I wanted to know what was happening, what he was seeing, what it looked like beyond the cement wall Crane is building around our town. Adam had told me he would only be gone a few days. Instead he is gone a full week.

Adam returns on the seventh day. After he debriefs with Crane, a Committee meeting is called. The heat of summer is starting to dissipate and we walk to the headquarters under Volker supervision. I control the urge to pick up Lina and run to the building to find Adam, so I can hear everything first-hand.

It’s the first time I’ve arrived to the conference room before Crane. Morris and Alexander are there-they greet us kindly and we sit and wait. I watch the clock tick, slowly. Crane clears his throat loudly as he enters the room. Behind him follows Adam and an older man with gray sideburns, wearing a Volker uniform. I stare anxiously at Adam, but he makes no attempt to look in my direction.

“Welcome District Sovereign,” Crane greets us all at once. “I would like to introduce our District Runner, Remington.” Crane claps and gives us an expectant look.

We all take notice and clap our hands, greeting the man. I watch the man named Remington. He stands proudly with his arms behind his back. There’s a bruise under his eye, a crack of blood in the corner of his mouth and a small bandage on his upper arm. Fresh blood has already saturated the thin pad, showing a dark stain against the plastic film that sticks to his arm.

“Remington has completed the necessary training for District Runner. As you know, he now also holds the title of District Sovereign. He will be present at all Committee meetings starting today. Let’s get started.” Crane sits in his usual seat and our new member, Remington, sits next to Adam. During this meeting I notice that Crane asks specific questions of all of us. There are no moments of open communication where the entire Sovereign committee discusses the best options for the residents, as we did in the previous meetings. Crane asks about specifics: supplies, food, clothes, gasoline, and medical supplies. He asks Adam about equipment stock, guns, bullets, non-lethal methods, and uniforms. He asks me nothing.

Crane calls the meeting to an end. A page appears on our screens to sign in agreement. This time it is not a list of guidelines for managing the District. Instead it’s a simple list of supplies for the Runner to retrieve. It includes food, yards of specifically colored fabrics, simple medical supplies and 300 gallons of gasoline. We all sign electronically and leave. Crane, Adam and Remington stay behind. I try my best to hide my disappointment for not getting to reunite with him.

I return to the lab. Ms. Black and the children resume class in the atrium. I sit in front of my computer, staring at the empty spreadsheet in front of me, thinking about Adam, what he saw, and why he was gone so long. Finally Ms. Black brings Lina into the lab and tells us both goodnight. I head to the loft with Lina, but not before I watch Ms. Black leave, holding the hands of Lina’s classmates, talking and smiling with them.

Lina and I cook dinner and get ready for bed. After she is asleep I sit on the couch and try to read. Mostly I stare out the large window at the dark lake. My eyes drift to the phone on the wall. I want to call Adam but I know I can’t. I have to wait for him to come to me. Eventually I fall asleep and the dreams start just as they usually do, with Ian standing in front of me, looking angry, yelling my name, throwing his wedding ring. Except this time I’m shaking, it starts in my shoulders, and then I feel something brush my cheek.

“Andie… Andie…” It doesn’t stop. The dream continues, getting worse, but I can’t wake myself up. I feel a sharp pinch on my upper arm and then another, strong enough to wake me. Adam sits next to me on the couch where I fell asleep. He’s watching me as I look around and try to orient myself.

I rub my arm, noticing there is a slight red mark. “Did you pinch me?” I ask Adam. He’s trying to contain a smile and doing a poor job at it.

“Sorry. But you wouldn’t wake up. You just kept mumbling something about how awesome I am.” I reach out and smack him on his arm.  I can’t wait any longer to change the subject.

“What did you see?” I ask.

He takes a deep breath in and leans back on the couch, away from me, rubbing his face with both hands. “Well, we started heading north, where the cement wall isn’t completed yet. The recruits were out of shape, they needed a lot of reminding on basic survival skills. We got to the train station, there’s one train and the Runner is the only person besides Crane who knows the code to run the train, and the code to open the fence on the outskirts of the District.”

“Did you go beyond the fence?” I ask, eager to hear what has changed out in the real world.

Adam shakes his head no and continues. He gives me a detailed explanation of where they traveled to. How they had to build shelters at night and find their own food. All the main roads have been closed off. Trees have been pulled out into the road to prevent anyone from driving down them. The small single lane back roads, which pass through the forest, are still operational, mostly because the trees surrounding them provide heavy cover for any travel. Adam and the recruits saw at least three farms with fields of crops and cattle grazing. Crane wanted them to follow the entire length of the fence to ensure its intactness.

“You’ll never guess this one Andie,” Adam leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “The fence is electrified. We found that out the hard way. Three days into the trial run the younger recruit, Chad, decided he was going to try and get out, flee the District. We woke up in the morning and he was gone. When we were inspecting the fence we found his charred body a few hundred yards from where we were camped for the night.” Adam looks back at me and I understand the seriousness of his words.  If we plan to escape from the Phoenix District from under Crane’s thumb, it will not be easy.

The electrified fence worries me, but it also brings another question to mind. “So now that Remington is trained and ready to go, what’s to prevent him from just leaving and never coming back once he programs the train?”

Adam smiles slyly at me. “Crane fixed that good. The transmitter gives Crane the ability to monitor the Runner from inside the District, it includes a black button. All Crane has to do is press the button and the Runner receives a lethal dose of potassium from the transmitter. The Runner drops where they are and ta-da-”

I finish his words for him, “instant heart attack.”  We sit in silence for a moment, absorbing.

Finally Adam breaks the silence. “Did you miss me while I was gone?”

“I think I missed you a little tiny bit.” I hold my index finger and thumb less than an inch apart to show him. Then I change the tone of my voice, looking down to the floor, embarrassed after our last night together. “I didn’t think you were coming back.” He reaches for me, dragging me onto his lap. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck, breathing in his scent, thankful that he is safe.

chapter seventeen

Life falls into a steady hum drum of sleeping, eating, and working. Once a week or so, Crane beckons us for a Committee meeting. Remington makes a successful trip as the Runner. It takes him almost a week, but the train shows up with the necessary supplies to sustain the residents for half the winter. Crane never discusses what information the Funding Entities received.

Cool fall air blows into town. Lina and I spend most of our evenings outside enjoying the nice weather, letting Stevie run on the open grass in front of our building while the Volker watch us. I continue to analyze the residents’ genes and Adam continues to work as the Volker Director, there is an influx of residents who have been cleared to train for the Volker faction. Crane runs Adam ragged. He works late training the new recruits and assigning them to positions. I barely see him, except for at the Committee meetings, and even then he seems distant and distracted.

Now, it is late September and most of the lab workers have been sent back to Japan, their work here complete. Kira is the only one remaining; she merely visits the lab a few days a week. Crane has assigned her to help out in the school, teaching chemistry and biology. Most days I work in the lab alone, calling Kira only when I need something or have questions. Today I have been on a roll and I’m almost done separating the residents into familial groups when I hear the hushed whoosh of the lab door opening. I hope to see Adam stopping by to fill me in on some District secret, but when I turn around and stand up, I see Crane walking towards me.

“Ah, Andromeda,” Crane raises his hands to the sky as he enters the room, as though he is praising his own existence. “I hope I’m not interrupting you.” He smiles as he walks towards me.

“What do you want?” I ask, trying not to sound too rude, but I don’t want him in the lab. It is bad enough he keeps me locked up here.

“I was nearby and decided to stop in for an update on your work. Kira tells me that you’ve been going at it nonstop.” He takes one of the stools from a nearby workbench and sits on it, rolling it up to my desk. “Come, sit, show me what you’ve been working on.” He pats the seat of my office chair.

I wait for a moment, eyeing him suspiciously. He never stops here alone, never without a Volker trailing behind him. He must be up to something. Against my better judgment I sit down next to him, breathing shallow, so I don’t have to smell his sickeningly sweet musk. I explain the data on the computer screens. He’s engrossed, asking only a few questions about the analysis, but mostly nodding his head in agreement. I know he has a strong science background from whatever he did before he took over our town. The conversation is easy and I don’t have to repeat myself or go into depth with scientific explanations. When I’m done talking I notice that he’s staring at me. I push my chair back and stand up, trying to distance myself. He makes me uncomfortable being so close.

“This is good Andromeda, very good.” He stands, pushing the stool back to where it was. “I want you to know that the Funding Entities will be pleased with your work.” Crane walks closer to me, much too close. I try to back up further but I’m stopped by the hard edge of the lab bench jabbing me in the back. The smell of his cologne wafts up to my nostrils. I swallow hard at the saliva backing up in my throat. "When you begin the genetic pairing of the Residents, you must include yourself.” He stops for a moment, giving me time to process what he is telling me.

“What are you trying to say?” He has stopped inching towards me and stands silently, watching me. “Are you saying I will be expected to… to have a baby?” My heart sinks. I want to run, to flee the room, to get away from him. How can he expect this from me? He’s already taken everything from me, he’s ruined my family, and now he wants me to bring another child into this world.

“Yes, Andromeda, you must include all of our District Sovereign. It only makes sense to incorporate our best and brightest when planning the propagation of the District.” He pauses and looks around the room. "Have I ever told you how much I…" We are alone. My heart starts drumming in my chest. “How much I respect you, your ideas, your intellect? You were the perfect choice for this. I can see it now. All the time I spent searching, it was you. This, you, it all makes me so happy."

He’s right in front of my face, leaning towards me. I arch myself back over the bench, trying to put distance between us. Suddenly, he is pulling at my shoulders to bring me closer to him and pressing his pale pink lips to mine. I push against his soft chest trying to get him off of me. Trying to get away from him. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears, panicked.

"Stop! Crane…" I push him hard, with all the energy I have in me, “Stop!”

He stumbles back, looking me in the eyes. His face is no longer soft and arrogant, but sharp and angry. And then, just as I least expect it, he slaps me hard across the face. I can count on my hand the number of times I’ve been hit in the face on purpose in my entire life, and they’ve all occurred since I’ve come to this place. It stings, less than when Baillie hit me, but it still hurts.

“Soon, Andromeda, you will have to stop making me wait for you, denying me what is mine. I will not sit back and wait much longer. After all I have given you, and each time I gave you more, this lab, your loft, your daughter. You remember this day, especially when you’re pairing the residents.” He steps back, looking around the room again. “Lucky for you, no one was here to see this."

I stare in disbelief and shock as he pulls a tissue out of his pocket and holds it to my bottom lip, almost comfortingly. When he pulls it back I see there is blood. He sets the tissue down on the lab bench. “Perhaps Colonel Baillie was correct to use a bit of force to encourage you.” He turns and walks quietly out of the room, just the way he came.

At first I’m not sure what to do, or who to tell. I can barely believe what just happened. The last thing I would have expected was that he would want me to have a baby, with him, that he expects us to be paired. I’m sure the one thing Crane doesn’t know about me is that I can’t have more children. Ian and I tried for years to give Lina a sibling. The doctors had no explanation for why I wasn’t getting pregnant. Eventually I stopped hoping that each month it would happen and we just accepted that Lina would be our only child. We put all our energy into giving her the best life we could.

I run to the door and see Ms. Black still teaching the children. Lina sits at one of the desks, working. Crane is gone. I pull an ice pack out of the lab freezer and hold it to my face. Now I know why there was no Volker following him into the lab. They would have been responsible for protecting me if they saw what Crane did. He would be putting his control over the District in jeopardy. I can’t let anyone know what he expects of me. I could never do it, not in a million years.

--

It takes almost a week for the split in my lip to heal. I tell Ms. Black and Lina that it cracked from the dry air in the building. But Adam eyes me suspiciously at the Committee meeting that week. I hide in the lab, analyzing data for weeks, almost happy that I don’t see Adam so I don’t have to explain to him what happened.

Soon the cool, fall weather has brought the changing of the leaves. They start to turn bright colors and fall off the trees. October is here and Lina’s birthday is just a few days away. Each week I’ve searched the grocery store for a gift for her. For cake mix, frosting, anything I could do to make her day special. And now it’s the day before and I have nothing for her. I feel like the worst mother, unable to provide my daughter with a birthday party or gift.

As I sit in front of my computer, sipping at a cup of coffee, trying to think of what I could do for her, the phone rings. When I answer there is a message from Crane. “Dearest District Sovereign, tomorrow we will celebrate the birth of a very special little girl, our very own Catalina will turn 6. Please be ready promptly at nine AM for the festivities.” The message ends, making my blood boil. How dare Crane take it upon himself to plan a party for my child without consulting me? He knows nothing about her.

--

I wake Lina with the happiest birthday face I can muster. We get ready for the day and when she asks where we are going I tell her it is a surprise. I don’t let her know that I have no clue what Crane has planned.

A waiting Volker SUV brings us to the cement wall at the edge of town. A row of SUVs are waiting as our driver pulls up, most likely with the remaining Sovereign. I see Crane in his unmistakable black suit get out and pull a brick out of the wall, behind it there is a touchpad. He enters a code and a portion of the wall slides open. After we drive through I turn around and see the wall slide closed. We are now in the forest and farmlands, outside of town. We drive for about ten minutes before we come to a farm. The vehicles park near a large red barn and everyone gets out. All of the Sovereign are there; Crane, Morris, Alexander, Ms. Black and the two boys in Lina’s class. Ahead of everyone I see Adam get out of the first SUV, which drove Crane. Crane heads off around the side of the barn. Adam turns and starts walking towards us.

“Adam!” Lina runs to him with her arms open. “You came to my birthday.”

“Yes, Happy Birthday, Lina.” He picks her up and hugs her. “Now how old are you, ten or eleven?”

Lina giggles. “I’m six silly.”

He puts her down and we walk together, following the same direction as Crane.

“Hi,” Adam tells me.

“Hi,” is all I have time to respond to him because as we make the short walk around the side of the barn, I hear Lina squeal with excitement.

“Look, Mommy, look. Did you ever see anything so great?”

My reaction is a mixture of awe and frustration, Crane really outdid himself. There are picnic tables all assembled under a large white tent-too many picnic tables for just us-decorated with pink and purple tablecloths. Balloons and streamers dangle from the large tent supports and overhangs. It continues with pink plates, cups, napkins and silverware which are all set out.

“It’s beautiful, Lina.” I lean down to hug and kiss her. She runs off with Cashel and the older boy, Marcus. I follow them to a large inflated tent that they jump in, bouncing higher and higher. I turn at the sound of air brakes squealing. When I look back towards the barn I see there are two buses unloading streams of children. Crane must have pulled them out of their classes and brought them here to celebrate Lina’s birthday-the first day of celebration in the District-my daughter’s birthday.

The day is chaotic and I follow Lina closely. The children take turns jumping in the inflatable tent and then the farm animals are brought out. There’s a petting zoo with goats and rabbits, pony rides, horse rides, cotton candy, and ice cream, everything a kid could want at their birthday party. A buffet table is set up with hot dogs, hamburgers, and the usual picnic fare. When everyone is finished eating, a large cake is brought out in the shape of the number six. It’s frosted beautifully with pinks and purples to match the decorations and six large sparkler candles. Everyone sings Happy Birthday to Lina. She scrunches her face up as she thinks about her wish before she blows out all six candles with one large breath. We all clap and cheer for her.

When I look around the tent I see Adam off to the side watching us. I want to talk to him badly, but there are too many people here. We’ve barely spoken since he got back from the trial run, and that was almost two months ago. I’m not sure if he’s been avoiding me intentionally or if he has actually been busy.

After we eat cake, we are escorted out to one of the fields and everyone is allowed to pick a pumpkin to bring home. The children run excitedly through the field, trying to choose the best one. After everyone has a pumpkin, the teachers pack the school children back onto the buses and get ready to leave, but not before each one stops to say goodbye to Lina on their way out. After they leave only the District Sovereign are left. Crane walks towards us, smiling.

“Happy Birthday, Catalina, I hope you have enjoyed your party.” He holds his hand out for her to shake. She tries to hide behind me. I remember Crane’s warning from the lab, and I have to do what I can to make him think he might actually have a chance at getting paired with me. I don’t want to pull Lina into his twisted game, but right now our safety depends on it.

I bend down and whisper in her ear, “Lina, Mr. Crane is the one who organized this party for you. I think it would be nice if you could tell him thank you. Do you think you could do that for me?”  She nods her head yes.

“Thank you, Mr. Crane.” For the first time she shakes his hand. From the beaming smile on his face I can tell that she has made his day. “Mommy, I have to go potty,” Lina whispers to me.

“I’m assuming there’s a bathroom here?” He points towards the old farmhouse on the other side of the tent. I pick Lina up and carry her away from him as fast as I possibly can.

When I open the door we enter into a large kitchen where there are people cleaning dishes from the party. They stop and look at us when we enter the room.

“We are just looking for the bathroom. Could anyone point us in the right direction?”

There is an older woman by the sink. “It’s right over here, ma’am.” Lina and I follow her to a small hallway with old hardwood floors and milky white walls; she opens a door with an old crystal door handle, behind it there is a simple but clean bathroom.

“Thank you,” I tell her smiling. She looks at me as though she is pondering a thought.

“We hope you were pleased with the party.” She tells me.

I remember what Adam told me after I went to see Ian; that the residents can’t be surprised, that we have to prepare them, calm them. But this woman is different, she doesn’t have the monotone voice, the glassy sheen over her eyes; she seems fully awake and alert. There are footsteps in the hall behind her. The woman turns abruptly to leave, not waiting for my response. And as she makes her way back to the kitchen, I see Adam pass her in the hall.

“Go potty Lina. I’ll wait out here for you.” I usher her into the bathroom, but I keep the door cracked a tiny bit so I can see what she’s doing.

Adam walks up to me without stopping. “You aren’t supposed to go anywhere without a Volker guard.” At first I think he’s joking with me but when I look into his eyes I see that he is completely serious.

“Even to the bathroom, Adam? That’s a little extreme.” If he is going to pester me I decide I’m going to make it worth his while. “What’s wrong with you? We haven’t seen you in weeks. You don’t even talk to me anymore.”

“Crane is running me ragged, Andie. I barely have time to sleep.” He rubs his face and runs his hand through his dark hair. “What happened to your lip?”

“What?”

“Your lip, a few weeks ago, it was split. What happened?”

I can’t bring myself to tell him that Crane slapped me across the face. As a Volker he would be responsible for doing something about it. I’m sure none of them want to hand down a punishment to Crane. And it’s been so long.

“I ran into a door.” As soon as it’s out of my mouth I know it’s a bad lie.

Adam eyes me suspiciously. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a particularly bad liar, Andie?” He walks closer, closing the space between us and reaches out, tucking a piece of loose hair behind my ear. The action sends a shiver down my spine. It’s the first time he has been close enough to touch me, the first time he has been within five feet of me in months. I remember the way he pulled me to him when we were in the basement, when I showed him the tunnel. I want him to do it again, here, now.

I don’t like to lie, I don’t want to lie. “Crane did it.” I blurt it out.

“What do you mean Crane did it?” he asks quietly.

“He split my lip. He slapped me.” Adam eyes me, using whatever technique it is to tell if I’m lying to him.

“How could he slap you?”

“It happened in the lab one day. He stopped by to check on my work. And… and…”  I don’t want to tell him about the genetic pairing, that Crane wants me paired with him. I do my best to keep a straight face, to make it look like I’m telling the truth. “I told him something he didn’t want to hear. And he slapped me across the face. There, are you happy I told you?” It was a bit easier, because I only told a half truth. But I don’t think Adam is happy at all. He looks pissed, worse than when I ran home to see Ian months ago.

“How, wasn’t there a Volker with him? We are sworn to protect you. That shouldn’t have happened.”

I shake my head. “No, he came into the lab alone, I was in there alone. No one else was there to see it.”

He’s clenching his jaw and his fists and I am afraid that I have angered him, much worse than ever before. The toilet flushes and Lina comes out of the bathroom. Adam doesn’t say another word he just escorts us out of the farmhouse.

The party is over and we pack up for the day. We are driven back to the loft. Lina falls asleep on my lap during the ride. I hold her, barely able to believe that she is already six and this is the only birthday her father has ever missed. I hope that in her excitement over the party she didn’t have time to realize this also.

I carry her up to the loft. When the elevator doors open I can see something in the living room through the glass doors. Stevie is waiting by the door, pacing, and there’s a pile of something brightly colored on the floor. I hesitate before walking into the loft. As I get closer I see it’s a pile of brightly wrapped presents in the pinks and purples of her party.

Lina wakes up as I set her on the couch noticing the pile of presents. “Mommy, are those for me?”

“I think so birthday girl.” I can only assume that they are from Crane. Lina opens all the gifts excitedly. There are toys, coloring books, books for her to read, piles of clothes in three sizes, enough to last her a whole year. There’s a mirror and brush set, a heavy winter coat, a snowsuit, fancy dresses and shoes. At the very bottom there is a perfectly square box with a large pink bow. Lina sits next to me as she opens it, slowly. Under the wrapping paper is a heavy wooden box with a gold clasp on the front. The box is carved with swirls and stars and stained a dark cherry color. At first I think the box is a gift but then Lina opens the clasp and lifts the lid.

“Wow!” I stare in disbelief at what’s inside the box. Sitting on a pillow of pink satin is a sparkling tiara. The tiara is heavy and there are diamonds, rubies and some light pink colored gemstone that I can’t identify, all set in the thick gold. I start to wonder if it could even be real. I pick it up and feel its weight. I place the tiara on her head. It fits perfectly and she looks like a real princess. I hand her the mirror that she unwrapped a few moments ago and watch as she admires herself.

“You look just like a princess, Catalina.” I kiss her cheek, and then get up to clean up the boxes and paper. Lina helps take all the new toys to her room, wearing her new tiara and doing her best to impersonate a princess. When the living room is all cleaned up and all the new clothes hang in her closet, we get ready for bed. Lina selects a new book from her gifts and reads it to me. Then I pull the sheets up to tuck her in.

“Can I sleep in my crown?” She asks, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Here, let’s set it on your night stand for the morning, we don’t want to break it.”

“Mommy, I miss Daddy…” she starts to tell me, her voice low and sad.

“I know, sweetie. I miss Daddy too.” Tears start to well up behind my eyes.

“I miss Uncle Sam too. They weren’t at my party, Mom. They never miss my birthday.”

I can’t stop the tears, “I’m so sorry, Lina. They didn’t mean to miss your party.” I wipe at my face, trying not to upset her with my crying. But I never wanted this for her. I never wanted her to grow up without her father there every step of the way.

“I love you, Mommy.” She reaches up and touches my face.

“I love you too, my little Catalina.” I pull her covers up to her chin and sit on the floor next to Stevie until I hear the steady, slow breaths, which could only mean she is fast asleep.

chapter eighteen

Days and weeks go by. Lina continues with her schooling. I continue my work. Now a Volker stands at the door to the lab. I still don’t see Adam. One night Lina asks if he can come over to make spaghetti but when the operator tries to get a hold of him there is no answer. Lina and I both go to bed disappointed that night.  And all I can think is that I must have made him incredibly angry at Lina’s birthday party.

For the Thanksgiving holiday Crane sets up a feast at the high school. The District Sovereign are required to attend. Lina dresses in one of the fancy dresses she got for her birthday and wears her tiara.  We’re kept away from the Residents at a heavily guarded table. It makes me wonder what the point of getting us all together was. The Residents point and watch us, some wave and smile like they know who we are. But they have been instructed not to approach us.

Crane wears his usual satisfied, smug look during the entire dinner. Adam is seated at the other end of the long rectangular table, away from us. A few times when I look his way I catch him looking in our direction. We don’t get a chance to speak and he leaves before we do. As we are walking out the door I scan the room. I see a thin blonde haired man sitting at a table with three other women. It looks like it could be Ian. I want to watch and see, but I don’t want Lina to see him. I know that it will upset her beyond belief if she sees her father because with the medication Crane has him on, he has no clue who she is. I usher her out of the dining hall and we go home.

That night Crane sends a Christmas tree and decorations. Lina is excited for Christmas and we sing carols as we decorate the tree, it gives us something to focus on. It takes my mind off the constant dwelling on how I’m going to get us out of here. This was always my favorite time of the year, but now it brings me sadness. I have Lina but I still feel alone without Ian, and now without Adam. All I am left with is the nagging knowledge of Crane’s expectations.

December brings freezing winds and piles of snow. There’s almost five feet in the first week. Crane informs us that the crews have been working to keep the town cleared of snow and ice.  A new faction has been designated to visit the Residents’ homes and ensure that they have heat and that their pipes haven’t frozen.

Since most of the town is Catholic, Crane decides to hold services at all of the local churches. He also throws a Christmas party for the Sovereign. We return to the high school dining hall. There’s a large Christmas tree and someone has dressed up like Santa Claus. When I bring Lina to meet him I notice he has pale blue eyes. Since Adam has been missing the whole day I can guess that it has to be him dressed up in the red suit and fake beard. He does a good job; all the children giggle with excitement and whisper in his ear what they want for Christmas. Once again Crane delivers gifts to the loft for Lina. She opens them excitedly. When she gets to the last box she brings it to me.

“Mom, this has your name on it.” She hands the gift to me. It’s small and neatly wrapped. The tag hanging off the side bears my name. I open it slowly. Trying to control the trembling of my fingers, I know if Crane sent me a gift then he is going to want something in return. I pray silently that it’s nothing extravagant or extreme, like Lina’s birthday tiara. But when I open the top of the similarly carved wooden box I’m disappointed to see an exquisite gold locket fitted with diamonds and emeralds.

“Mom, it’s beautiful,” Lina exclaims as she reaches out to touch it.

“Yes it is.” I watch her be mesmerized by the fancy jewelry. “Lina, I want to remind you that when we love someone, it matters more in how we treat them and what we say to them. Love isn’t bought with fancy gifts.” I don’t want Crane’s technique of gift giving to turn her. Ian and I always provided her with what she needed, but we never spoiled her with frivolous gifts the way Crane is doing now.

“I know, Mommy. It’s like how I love you and you love me. And how Daddy loves us and we love him, even though he isn’t with us anymore.” I hug her tightly, afraid that she will see the tears in my eyes again, like on her birthday. She hugs me back and when I have control over my emotions I get up and bring the necklace to my bedroom, hiding it in the back depths of the closet where I don’t have to look at it.

--

January brings more snow. The Committee decides to send the Runner out again for more supplies; rations are getting low, and people are running out of food. I don’t tell anyone but I had been giving Lina half of my dinners every night because the grocery store was exceptionally low on many items.  We decide on a listing of supplies. Crane thinks it’s a good idea for another team to go out and check the security of the stone wall and the electrified fence. I look to Adam who is seated across the table from me. His jaw is clenched tight, he knows as well as I do that this means he will spend a full week or more out in the freezing winter. Crane smiles proudly after he tells us that he has procured snowmobiles for the team and heavy winter gear. This information doesn’t help change the look on Adam’s face.

--

By mid-January the pairings are almost complete. I go to Kira’s computer and find the codes for the District Sovereign. I pull their genetic information and save it in a separate file. Alexander and Morris are too old to be paired. That only leaves Crane, Ms. Black, Adam, Remington and me-an uneven number-not enough women to make the pairing equal. I will be damned to pair myself with Crane and be responsible with pairing Adam with someone. I don’t care what Crane wants, if we are trusted to make decisions for the Residents then we are capable of choosing our own pairs and I would rather be thrown out into the wilderness than pair myself with him.

Once all the samples are loaded I compile the data in a spreadsheet, organizing by easily distinguishable characteristics. My fingers fly across the keyboard as I systematize the samples first by similar physical characteristics, facial features, nose shape and height. Then I am able to organize them into families depending on how similar or dissimilar their physical characteristics are. From there I can assign groups that would allow the best genetic diversity, the least possibility of inbreeding, and pair them to other groups. When the samples are finally organized by families I pause, pushing my chair back from the desk so I can observe from a distance and think. It's when I stare at the large computer screen for a few minutes that I realize there are too many samples for the small town of Phoenix.

Our population never made it over ten thousand. But there are at least four times that many samples here. I stare at the groups until I can see their physical features in my head. Short fair skinned people with light hair and light eyes, typical North American Caucasian. Then there’s a dark skinned group with black fine hair and strong aquiline noses, Classic Native American. Next, a tanned skin group with large wide eyes and mouths, it could be Latino. There’s a grouping of black skinned people with curly hair and smooth skin, African heritage. Lastly, there are short yellow skinned people with almond shaped eyes and wispy black hair, Asian. These features may not be expressed strongly on all the people here but their genes don't lie. They carry the genetic framework from distinct cultures. The lab has a large map of the world on the wall, and I stare at it for a long time. Based on the genetic traits these samples carry, these look like groupings of people from the South, the Midwest, the Northwest, each corner of the United States. Then I realize what I’m looking at; we are not the only District.

My head fills with hundreds of questions. Did they too have the fake earthquakes? Was there the guise of nuclear contamination? Do they have the stone wall and electric fence? The train? A Runner? The factions? The Sovereign? Who is running them?

And if there are other Districts is there another person doing what I’m doing right now? Because if there is, Lina and I are no longer safe-we are expendable.

chapter nineteen

Each month Crane sends Adam to check the integrity of the cement wall and the outer electrified fence. He monitors the Gateway, the most northern area of the electrified fence where the train exits and enters. Remington is sent out for more supplies. This time it takes him almost two weeks.

I keep my secret, my knowledge that there are more Districts. I send Crane watered-down updates of my work, telling him that I need more time, avoiding him.

Now that it is almost March, I’m afraid I can’t put him off much longer.

I sit in the empty lab, alone at my desk. I should be completed with the pairings by the end of the night. I decide to take a break and check on Lina in the atrium. Ms. Black has the children painting the glass walls of the building for an art appreciation class. They are anticipating spring and Lina, Cashel and Marcus have created a rich flowering garden with the paint, almost covering the windows that span the front of the atrium. I watch Lina as she stands on a stool, painting a large sunflower on the glass. It’s moments like these that I wish I had a camera, so I can document what she’s doing, her projects and her growth, her childhood. Instead I watch her and I try to burn these images of her childhood into my brain.

I go upstairs to the loft and make myself a cup of coffee. Now that I’m so close to completing this project I know I will be up late putting the final touches on the pairings and double-checking my work, preparing a report for Crane, trying to hide the fact that I know about the other Districts.

The Volker guard who waits outside of the lab follows me, waiting outside the glass doors to the loft. I make coffee for the both of us. When we get back to the atrium Ms. Black is ending class and the children are cleaning up from the long day of learning. I walk off to the lab and save my work, sending it to the laptop in the loft-which Crane has so graciously provided me with-enabling me to work at night while Lina sleeps.

We head upstairs to our usual nightly routine of taking Stevie out, cooking dinner and getting ready for bed. After Stevie has run a few laps through the snow banks in the open area in front of our building, we head back upstairs, her long hair clumped with ice. We start on dinner and just as we sit down to eat the Volker guard from downstairs knocks on the door.

I motion for him to come in. They don’t usually come up here at night. There was only one other time, when it was snowing so hard the day guards’ replacement couldn’t make it. The day guard stayed in the loft with us for dinner and slept in front of the door for the night.

“Sorry to disturb you but there is an emergency at the hospital,” the Volker tells me as he enters the loft.

Crane was able to get the small local hospital up and running to treat injuries, illnesses and perform monthly physicals on the District Residents.

“What does that have to do with me?” I’m not sure why exactly I’m being bothered with this.

“Dr. Akiyama, from the hospital, is going to call in a moment and explain the details to you.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth the phone rings, and I walk over and answer it. “Andromeda? Can you hear me?” The doctor is on the other end of the line. I haven’t seen Dr. Akiyama since last summer when he stitched my back, but his voice is easy to remember.

“Yes, Doctor.” In the background I can hear the familiar beeps and alarms of a hospital monitor. “What can I do for you?”

“We have a situation at the hospital. It’s an emergency. I need you to come down here.”

“I have Lina here. I can’t leave her.” Lina watches me from the dinner table.

“I need you to find someone to watch her. This is urgent.” I can hear it in his voice. “Please come quickly.” I hear the clatter of metal and someone asking him a question, and he hangs up abruptly.

There’s no one I would trust to watch Lina. Ms. Black has the boys and I’m sure this Volker is going to escort me to the hospital. There is one person whom I trust more than anyone else here, but he’s been hard to locate for months. If they want my help at the hospital then Crane is going to have to give him up for the night. I pick the phone back up and when the operator answers I tell her exactly who I want to speak with.

“I need Colonel Waters, Volker Sovereign.”

“I’m sorry. There is an order not to disturb him at this time.”

“This is an emergency-” She starts to interrupt me. I hate to drop the emergency bomb, but Adam told me that if there was ever an emergency we are to state that we are a District Sovereign, our name and who we need to talk to.  Since the Volker are our protectors, they are required to stop what they are doing and respond. I figure what better time than now to test out his instructions. “This is District Sovereign Andromeda Somers, I have an emergency and I need to speak with Colonel Waters.”

“Yes ma’am,” the operator responds, changing her tone, the phone rings twice and before he answers.

“Yes.” His voice is heavy, tired, and I feel a little guilty that I might have just woken him up.

“Adam?”

“Yes. What do you need, Andie?”

“They need me at the hospital and I need someone to watch Lina.”

“Can’t Ms. Black watch her?” he asks.

“I’m not leaving her with anyone else. If you don’t come then I’m not going to the hospital.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he responds.

I hang up the phone and walk back to the table where Lina is sitting. “Lina,” I tell her, “I have to go to the hospital, the Doctor needs my help with something. Adam is going to come over and watch you.”

I was afraid that she might be upset but at my mentioning of Adam’s name she raises her arms in the air and hollers out an excited, “Yay!”

Adam arrives within ten minutes. He’s out of uniform and looks tired. I truly must have woken him. It’s been so long since he has been here that I’m not sure how to approach him. I struggle with the desire to hug him and yell at him at the same time.

“Do you know what’s going on at the hospital, Adam?” I ask.

“No. I haven’t been told about anything. Your guard can fill me in after he escorts you there.”

I tell him Lina’s bedtime routine and I remind Lina to brush her teeth before bed as I hug and kiss her goodbye. “Thanks, Adam.” I tell him as I’m walking towards the door. He meets me halfway and we walk to the door together and for the first time in months he places his hand on the small of my back, sending tingles up my spine, shooing me out the door.

“Don’t worry, Andie. You can trust me. I’ll take care of her.”

I watch him through the glass door as the elevator closes and the guard and I descend to the lower level.

--

The hospital looks the same. There have been no changes to the external structure or the internal structure. When the Volker escorts me inside he brings me to the third floor, the level usually reserved for labor and delivery. Dr. Akiyama must have been warned I was in the building because when the door to the elevator opens he’s standing in the hallway waiting for us.

“Thank God you’re finally here.” He pulls me by the arm down the hallway, the guard follows us.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, still not sure why I’m here.

“Is is true you are certified in neonatal resuscitation?”

“Yes, we were required to at the hospital I worked at.”

“And you were working in a neonatal ICU before you commenced your duties here?”

“Yes.”

“Good, we have a situation and I need your help. I can’t do this by myself anymore. None of the other nurses Crane has provided me with have your training.” He stops outside a patient room and hands me a set of light green scrubs. “I need you to change and scrub in.”

I stare at the scrubs in my hand. I haven’t been a nurse in a long time. I left that occupation behind when I fled the city to find my family.

I use the bathroom in the hallway to change into the scrubs and I clean my arms up to my elbows at the medical sink outside the patient room. From inside the room I can hear monitors beeping and a woman moaning.

“Are you ready?” Dr Akiyama pops his head outside of the door and grabs my arm pulling me into the patient room. It has been almost eleven months since I have stepped foot inside of a laboring mother’s room. But everything is the same as it always is: woman, belly, monitors.

A pregnant woman lies on the bed, a thick band around her pregnant belly monitoring the baby inside. I look at the monitor, watching the infant’s heartbeat. With each contraction it slows, much too low and never quite gets back to its normal range. I look at the mother’s distended abdomen, she’s an average size woman but her pregnant belly is much too small to be full term. She’s breathing fast and wincing through the contractions, her forehead caked in sweat-this has been going on for some time.

Dr Akiyama pulls me over to a warmer, similar to what we used in the NICU, a small open bed with its own heat source and an examination light. I haven’t been to a delivery since before the day of the earthquake, when our lives were changed forever. I try to remember what I did in the four years that I worked in that hospital, going into the delivery room, what we looked for, what we monitored.

“How old is this baby?” I ask the doctor.

“Almost thirty-four weeks.” I know this. It’s seven weeks too early. It could be a perfectly viable baby or a train wreck that I have no way of saving here. “She’s fully dilated and effaced. Now that you’re here I’m going to have her push. I need you to be ready for this baby because I’m bringing it to you.”

I pull a pair of gloves out of a box on the wall and turn on the warmer. There is a stethoscope and suction waiting. I look around the room and see a man standing by the pregnant woman’s head. He’s wearing a mask and scrubs. Usually that is the spot reserved for the father. But no one should be having babies right now. I haven’t completed the genetic pairing.

I hear Dr. Akiyama counting for the mother, instructing her when to push and when to wait. I hear him say that the head is out. He tells the mother to stop pushing while he suctions out the mouth and nose. Then he tells her to push hard. There is the metallic snip of chord clamps and medical scissors.  Then he is next to me, placing a small, pale baby on the warmer. It’s a boy, a tiny little baby boy. I stare at it for a moment, unsure of what to do next, trying to remember.

“Andromeda!” The doctor yells at me.

And that’s all it takes. After years of training and getting yelled at in the delivery room each time I did something wrong or not fast enough, I return to the methodical assessing nurse that I was almost a year ago. I take warm blankets and scrub the baby with them, wiping off the blood and birthing fluids, trying to get him to cry. The baby’s toes and hands are still blue, but the center of his chest is pink and red. I wrap an oximeter probe around its hand and use the stethoscope to listen to its lungs and heart. His breath sounds are strong, but wet sounding. I take the suction tubing and use it to suck the fluid out of the infant’s nose and down the back of its throat. I check the baby’s pulses on his tiny wrists and ankles, feel the soft fontanels on the top of his head, he has feathery blonde hair matted to his head. I watch the newborn and the clock, waiting for the baby to “pink up,” turning from a dusky blue hue to bright pink and to breath in a normal rhythm. I place a small hat on his head and wrap him in three blankets and turn up the temperature setting on the warmer. I change my gloves and give the baby a minute to warm up.

After a few minutes I continue. I touch the side of his mouth as though I was going to feed him. He turns his head in the direction of my finger. I feel inside his mouth, checking the roof for a cleft, making sure he sucks. I un-wrap him and feel his ears, his collarbone, extend his limbs out, count his fingers and toes. I turn him over and run my finger down his back, checking to make sure the vertebrae are in a straight line and that there are no openings in the meninges. I check his genitals and rectum to make sure everything is present and intact. Then I wrap the baby in a clean set of blankets. He’s been out for almost ten minutes now. The blue tinge has left his mouth and hands. There’s a pacifier on the warmer, when I place it in his mouth he sucks hungrily.

“Is my baby okay?” I hear the mother ask Dr. Akiyama.

I stare at the child, watching, another five minutes pass. I stare at him longer, waiting for the swelling to go down, for his facial features to settle from being pushed out of the birth canal. He is so small that it doesn’t take long. I look under the hat at his blonde hair again, pale features, and at the baby’s nose, which is already high and arched. Dr. Akiyama moves to my side.

“How is he?” The doctor pulls his mask down and changes his gloves, examining the baby.

“He’s breathing on his own, has a strong suck, his oxygen saturations are within the normal range. For a preemie he’s doing well.” I continue to watch the baby closely. I can’t help but feel this baby looks familiar, as though I might know his parents from somewhere.

“Good. How does he compare to what you’ve seen in the NICU?” He looks back at the parents and then back towards me.

“He’s breathing on his own and as long as he keeps doing that, the only things you will have to worry about are maintaining his temperature and getting him to eat.” The doctor walks back to the parents to fill them in on the baby’s status. I watch as the mother smiles at the doctor. The father just sits there, presumably shocked, as all first time fathers are in the delivery room. Usually they don’t know what to do with themselves; they pace, and then get faint, and then they are afraid to touch the baby. It’s always the same.

Dr. Akiyama is back at my side. “Doctor, whose baby is this?” He looks at me skeptically. “Who are the parents, what are their names?” He looks back to the parents and then to me. I can tell he’s hiding something from me. There’s something he doesn’t want me to know. “Who are they, Doctor?” My heart is starting to beat heavily in my chest. He doesn’t want to tell me. I watch the parents. The mother smiles as she looks at the tiny baby bundled on the warmer. A nurse helps her change her gown and get comfortable in the bed. The mother reaches over to the father and takes his hand. He still looks like he’s in shock, like he doesn’t know what to do. All I can see are his brown eyes since the rest of his face is covered by the surgical mask. Then the mother reaches up, trying to get his attention, stroking his cheek, and pulls the mask down.

“Andie…” Dr Akiyama must be trying to warn me, the tone of his voice is much lower, but it’s too late. My heart picks up the pace, thumping wildly in my chest, my hands are in tight fists at my sides. I knew the baby looked familiar but I wasn’t prepared for this, to see who the father is. In the corner, at the head of the bed sits a proud new father, and it is Ian.

--

I leave the room. I collect my clothes from the hallway. The Volker who escorted me to the hospital is at the nurse’s station talking on the phone. He must be talking to Adam, filling him in on why they needed me here. Dr. Akiyama follows me out of the room.

“Andie, I’m sorry. Andie, stop, please, I need your help. I need you to tell me what to do with this baby.” He grabs my arm and I jerk it back from him.

All this time I have been alone, taken away from my husband, feeling guilty for leaving him, for barely having a relationship with Adam, and he’s moved on already. He’s replaced me. He’s found someone who could give him another child.

I am furious and heartbroken. “You could have warned me! You could have done something,” I tell at the Doctor. “Any one of these guards could have told you that father in there is my husband!”

“Andie, keep your voice down, please.” He pleads with me, closing the door to the room where we just came from.

“They all know. Every single one of them knows who we are!” I point to the Volker in the hallway. The one who escorted me here puts down the phone and walks towards us. “You could have-” the tears are starting and I can’t stop them. “You could have done something. I didn’t need to see that. I don’t need to see any of this,” I fall to the floor, sobbing to myself. The men stand around me, unknowing of what to do with me. Someone hands me a box of tissues. I do my best trying to clean up my face, to catch my breath, before I stand up, I turn to Dr. Akiyama. “You need to keep the baby warm. He’s too small to keep his own temperatures up.” I wipe at my eyes again, trying to stop the tears that keep leaking out. “He needs to be kept clothed and bundled under the warmer, if his parents want to hold him, that’s too bad. He comes out to eat every three hours; the mother needs to breastfeed him. If that doesn’t work contact me and I can tell you a few other methods to get him to eat. I don’t want to have to put an IV in him, but I can if it needs to be done. Monitor his temperature and his vital signs right before he eats. Other than that, the baby needs to sleep and grow.”

The infant isn’t critical and Dr. Akiyama should be able to manage his care. I collect my things from the floor and then leave without saying anything else.

The Volker drives me back to the loft. Since Adam is upstairs with Lina the guard stays at the front door to the building. When I get to the loft Adam is waiting by the door. His arms are crossed and he stares at the floor, focusing on something. My sadness has turned into white hot anger by the time I get to the door.

“Andie,” Adam reaches for me as I walk through the door. I swerve to the side to avoid his grasp. I throw the clothes that I carried home on the floor, wishing they were made of glass so I could watch them shatter into a million pieces. Maybe breaking something would ease my anger right now.

“Is Lina asleep?” I ask Adam. I feel him grab the back of the scrub top but I pull myself forward quickly, ripping it out of his grasp.

“Yes, she’s asleep. Andie, wait.” He follows me as I walk to Lina’s room to check on her. She’s sleeping soundly and innocently in the large plush bed. Stevie lifts her head off the end of the bed where she lays and perks her ears at the sound of me entering the room. I close the door behind me, so I don’t wake her. Adam is waiting for me when I leave the room. He reaches for me again, grabbing the scrub top.

I slap at his hand. “Don’t touch me, Adam!” I glare at him and stomp towards the phone. I know who I’m going to yell at, who I am going to make pay for what I just saw. I pick up the phone and the operator answers.

“Burton Crane,” I snarl into the receiver. For the first time the operator doesn’t respond. The phone rings only once before Crane picks up.

“Hello?” he sounds surprised that he’s getting a call this late.

“I need to see you. Now.”

“Andromeda?” My name unfurls off his tongue slowly, like a sweet surprise.

“Yes, Crane. I need to see you now.” I think I actually stamp my foot on the floor as I say it.

“Well then. I will be there momentarily.” I slam the phone down hard, not giving him the chance to say goodbye.

Adam follows me down to the atrium as I wait for Crane. “Are you sure this is a good idea Andie?” He asks me in the elevator. “Don’t you think you need a moment to cool down?”

“I’ve been cooling down all winter, Adam.” I try not to yell at him, but my words echo loudly off the metal elevator walls. “I’ve been doing what Crane asks me, keeping my head down, putting up with you ignoring me. I’m done with it. I’m sick of Crane trying to run my life and Lina’s life.”

When the elevator doors open I stomp to the front door of the building and pace in a large circle waiting for Crane to show up. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored glass. The scrubs hang loosely off me; I almost resemble the nurse I once was. Adam stands by the elevator. At first I think he might be hiding from me. But I realize he may be shielding himself from Crane’s view, so he can watch.

Finally a car pulls up and Crane gets out. He takes his time walking into the building, adjusting his scarf and gloves, wiping off his heavy wool coat when stray snowflakes land on it. Finally the door opens and he comes inside.

“Ah Andromeda, what a pleasant surprise in the middle of the night.” He holds his arms open and smiles at me. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

I’m not sure if he hasn’t seen the look of flaming anger on my face or if he just doesn’t recognize it. I can’t hold it in anymore. “Why are people having babies, Crane?”

“Well, whatever do you mean, Andromeda?”

“You know what I mean. I was just at the hospital.” I pull the front of the scrub shirt out at him, pointing out the fact that I am wearing hospital scrubs. “Do you know what I just saw at the hospital?”

“I think I might have an idea about that.”

“I haven’t completed the genetic pairing, Crane. So let me ask you again, why are people having babies?”

“I’m sure you haven’t noticed because you have been working so hard all winter long, but the population has taken quite the hit, Andromeda.” Crane pauses dramatically. “At least one-quarter of the population has died already.”

“What? Why haven’t you told me this information?” My arms are tight with anger and I resume pacing as we speak. “Why haven’t I been told?”

“I didn’t want to upset you. Since you’re so busy and all. See what it’s doing to you now?” He points at me.

“Explain. Right now. This was never discussed in any of the Committee meetings. Do Alexander and Morris know?” He shakes his head no. “What about Remington, Ms. Black, Adam?” He shakes his head no again. “So you haven’t told anyone?”

“Well, our good doctor has informed me of the many deaths. So, he knows.”

“What are they dying from?”

“There’s a combination of factors.” He brings his hands in front of his chest, tapping his fingertips on each other. “This isn’t the healthiest community in the country, as you know. And certain medications are not available to us: there are cardiac medications, diabetic medications, asthma medications. The list goes on and on. Either way, we can’t risk the population getting too low. I had to make a decision to allow some of the women to get pregnant. But there have been, complications, just as you’ve seen tonight. The women keep delivering prematurely, their babies too early to be viable.”

I run the facts over in my head for a moment and the answer seems almost too easy. “It’s the medications, Crane. I can’t believe you haven’t realized this yet. You can’t give those hormones to a woman and expect her to carry a fetus without any ill effects.” He should know this, it doesn’t make sense that he would let this go on.

“Yes well, Ian’s child is the first to survive, thanks to you, that is.” He cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows waiting for my response.

“That’s great, Crane, I’m really glad I was there to experience the whole thing. I’m sure I can thank you personally for that.”

“I should thank you, for helping bring the firstborn of the Phoenix District into this world. There should be a celebration.”

“What is the point of the genetic pairing? I’m almost done with it. I was going to finish tonight before I was called to the hospital.” I have finally stopped pacing and my voice has lowered.

“Ah! Excellent! Just in time.” He’s back to smiling now.

“And now that I have completed the pairings what will I do?”

“The population will grow, Andromeda. Children will grow up, babies will be born. You will be responsible for their pairings also. Your job will never be completed as long as the Phoenix District remains prosperous. This is excellent really, you are just in time.”

“Just in time for what?” I eye him skeptically.

“Just in time to withdraw the medication and welcome the Residents fully alert into the Phoenix District.” My stomach drops at his words. He continues. “I think we should continue this conversation at another time. Perhaps after you’ve had time to rest. Goodnight, Andromeda!” He bows oddly to me, and then walks out the door.

I watch his car leave before I stomp back to the elevator. Adam is waiting with the door open. He follows me back to the loft, quietly. I open Lina’s door and check on her again. She and Stevie are still both fast asleep. When I turn around Adam is standing in the living room, waiting to see what I do.

Normally, after a less than stellar night at work, I would help myself to a few glasses of wine to numb the pain and disappointment. Crane has outlawed all alcohol for the Residents but he included a bottle in one of the many gifts he has given me. I walk to the kitchen and pull it out from the back of the cupboard where I stashed it behind the cooking pans.

“Do you want some of this?” I ask Adam harshly as I twist open the cap on the wine bottle.

When I turn around he is running his hand through his hair. “Sure. Why not.”

I don’t have any wine glasses so I pour some into two coffee mugs and take a long gulp of the wine. It is dry and strong. I hand Adam his mug as I walk towards the living room and sit down on the floor with my mug and the wine bottle. Adam follows, sitting on the couch across from me.

“What did you think of that conversation, Adam?” I take another long swallow of the wine, hoping the spirits will numb the events of the night that are still sharp in my mind.

“It’s all a little much.”  He takes a sip from his mug.

“That’s all you have to say?” I figure since I’m on a tirade calling everyone out; the doctor, the Volker, Crane, why stop at Adam? “After all this time, Adam, you haven’t spoken to me in months. One minute you’re saving us from wolves, you’re pulling out my stitches, you’re kissing me in the basement, asking me to trust you, and then you’re gone. I think I even called you a few weeks ago and you didn’t answer. I take it all very personally.” I take another long drink from my mug, emptying it, and then refill it from the wine bottle.

“You don’t understand, Andie.” He sets his mug down and rubs his face. “Crane is running me ragged. He has me out surveying the wall, the fence, the gateway, assigning new recruits, training Remington. I barely have time to sleep.”

“And all this time I’ve been wondering what I did wrong to put you on edge.” My lips start to tingle from the wine. Seeing Ian tonight, seeing his newborn son, it was like a slap in the face-another one-from Crane. Ian is gone, forced to move on, following the path designated by us, the Sovereign. I have been alone with Lina and the threats from Crane, alone with the knowledge that he wants us paired. I am tired of taking orders. I stare at Adam as he leans forward to take a few sips from his mug. I decide it’s time for him to know some of what I’ve been keeping from him.

“Do you remember at Lina’s birthday party? When I told you Crane slapped me across the face and split my lip?” His eyes dart to mine. Good, I have his attention. “He was trying to kiss me, Adam.” Now his eyes flick open a little wider.

“What do you mean he was trying to kiss you?” He twists his face into a scowl.

“Just what I said, he was trying to kiss me, and I pushed him away. That’s why he slapped me-for denying him.” I raise my fingers to quote the phrase in the air. “That was right after he told me that I would be expected to reproduce and that he expects us to be paired. Me and Crane, can’t you just picture it in your head like a sick putrid little love story?” I take another long drink from my mug, trying to erase the image of Crane from my mind. “Does it make you want to vomit? Because I do, every time I replay it in my head.”

Adam stops, frozen, watching me. “You’re serious.” He knows when I’m lying, and I’m guessing it didn’t take long for him to realize this is not a lie. It’s the cold, hard, disgusting truth.

“Unfortunately I am.” I refill my mug, knowing well that I shouldn’t, my lips are fully numb now.

“This is bullshit.” Adam stands abruptly and paces the living room. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“You don’t talk to me anymore. We’ve gone over this already, Adam.” I wave my hand at him, dismissing the conversation.

“I can’t protect you if you don’t tell me these things. Crane keeps me too busy to watch you all the time like I did before.”

I laugh a little, the wine exaggerating my responses. “You used to watch me?”

He just stares at me, rubbing his jaw, fidgeting.

I kick off my shoes and socks, rubbing my feet into the plush living room carpet. Adam continues his pacing. Now I know I’ve truly made him mad. I watch his jaw tense, his fists clench. I drain the mug. He runs his hands through his hair and I watch as the muscles in his arms push through the thin cotton of his shirt as it rises, just to the top of his jeans without showing even a wink of skin.

I can feel the heat in my cheeks from the flush of embarrassment. I’m not sure if it is because the last man I looked at in this manner I was married to or because I just can’t stop watching him, talking to him, trying to make him angry. I stand up and walk over to Adam, waiting for him to stop pacing in front of me.

“What?” He asks as I stand in front of him.

“I’m tired of this, Adam. I’m tired of Crane controlling me. I’m tired of living in fear of him. I’m tired of you being gone all the time. I’m tired of being trapped up here, alone.” I reach out and grab the front of his shirt, crumpling it in my fist and pulling him towards me.

“Andie, stop.” He puts his hand over mine; it’s warm and heavy, just like I remember. “You’re drunk already. It’s only been like five minutes.”

“What can I say? I’m a cheap date. Most men like that in a woman.” I pull myself closer to him, invading his space. “Did you hear me Adam? I’m done with you ignoring me all the time.” I stand on my toes and wrap my arms around his neck. “I need you,” I breathe the words into his ear, trying my best to imitate what he did to me in the dark hallway so many months ago.

He grabs my upper arms trying to stop me, holding me still. I can see the muscle in his jaw tighten. I kiss him, hard at first, and his response is immediate. His hands are in my hair, against the small of my back, pulling me closer to him, pressing my body to his, tipping my head back as his lips kiss me back. He tastes sweet, more so than the wine, and it’s intoxicating. Each time he pulls his lips from mine I ache for them to return. The wine is having its full effect, clouding my mind, lowering my inhibitions. I clench his shirt in my hands, to pull him back towards the bedroom, but he stops me, holding my face between his warm hands.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Andie?” His eyes search mine, using whatever method it is to see if I’m telling the truth. Last time we were in the bedroom together I was too stunned by his scars to do anything. And then he was gone.

He stands rigid in front of me, waiting for my response.

“Yes.”

This time I do not fumble nervously with the buttons of his shirt. I know what lies under it, I’m no longer afraid of the scars marring his body. Adam watches me as I reach out and run my hand over them, feeling the long slashes across his ribs, the burn marks pocking his upper chest, the three bullet wounds near his shoulder which have turned his skin into a jagged landscape.

I’m afraid the effects of the wine will consume me soon; it is already making me wobbly. I fumble with my own clothes, the stiff scrubs, not out of nervousness but because my fingertips are swollen and clumsy with intoxication and I can barely keep my balance. Somehow, my body knows this is not Ian, and my heart races with the anticipation of the unknown. Adam steps towards me, assisting, and before I know it he has our clothes off, discarded on the floor. He reaches for me, pressing his lips to mine and my bare body to his. We stand, kissing, with nothing between us but the thin gold band on my left ring finger. Adam reaches down, slowly dragging his hand across my side, pulling me into his arms and carrying me to the side of the bed. The wine sloshes in my stomach as he sets me down. And when he bends down to kiss me again I feel the wine burning up the back of my esophagus. I try to ignore it and focus on the task at hand, the burning deep inside me and the desire for him to continue.

Suddenly my mouth starts to feel heavy, filling with thick saliva. I pull away, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths. Now, I realize that it has been much too long since the last time I consumed alcohol and that downing almost the entire bottle in just a few minutes was not a good idea. But I want so badly to continue, I want to carry on exploring each other and extinguishing the tension that has been hovering around us for so long. Now that I know for certain Ian has moved on without me. When I open my eyes Adam is pulling me back to him, bending down to kiss me again. Saliva gushes into my mouth, making my tongue heavy, churning my stomach. I reach out, placing my hand on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Adam whispers, his voice thick, heavy with desire.

I can’t respond, I know what will happen if I open my mouth. I quickly turn away from him, running naked to the small master bathroom, slamming the door behind me and locking it, vomiting the bottle of wine into the toilet.

--

I hear Adam knocking on the door but I can’t open it or respond between the retching of my stomach. The last thing I need is him in here, offering to hold my hair back. When it feels like my insides may have settled, I sit on the floor of the bathroom feeling ridiculous. Here I am naked and vomiting. No better than a drunk college girl. Adam knocks on the door again, but now, I am too embarrassed to respond. I brush my teeth and take a quick shower. Thankful that there are towels in the bathroom since my clothes remain on the floor in the bedroom.

When I’m done, I stand wrapped in a towel, with my hand on the door handle, trying to work up the courage to face Adam again, without puking. I take a few deep breaths and open the door. Adam sits on the end of the bed, fully dressed, my discarded clothes now neatly folded in a pile next to him. He watches me, saying nothing about my alcohol intolerance. I walk to the dresser and pull out undergarments and sleeping clothes, and then I return to the bathroom to get dressed.

Adam is still sitting in the same place when I walk out of the bathroom, dressed in my pajamas. I walk towards him, slowly, nervously. “I’m sorry,” I tell him as I stare at the floor, embarrassed.

He laughs a little. “I’ve never had a cheap date do that before,” he responds, pulling me into his arms. I hold my hand over my mouth and try to quiet my stomach from the movement. “Another time then.” He pulls me down onto the bed, and we lay together, curled round each other, with my head on his chest and his lips pressing against my forehead. I feel ill from the wine and my failed seduction. And I’m sure the uneasy feeling in my stomach includes the reaction from seeing Ian and realizing our marriage is over and things can never go back to the way they were. After a few short minutes my tears saturate Adam’s shirt.

Afterwards, when I’m done sobbing, Adam pulls the heavy blanket at the foot of the bed over us both and reaches out to tuck a few stray hairs behind my ear, kissing me.

“You can’t let Crane find out, Andie.” He tells me softly.

“Find out what?”

“About us.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you see? He planned this so thoroughly, taking over our town, protecting you, making you Sovereign, the luxuries he affords for you, you being present at the delivery of Ian’s baby. He planned it, he had to. A person like Crane, he doesn’t plan to lose. If he wants you, he needs to think he is going to get you. He can’t find out about us, no one can.”

“Does this mean you’re going to disappear and ignore me for another seven months?” I ask him half joking, but mostly serious. “Because I’m not sure I could handle that right now.”

“I’ve told you before. I’ll always come back for you.”

“Good.” I reach up and pull him down to kiss me.

chapter twenty

“Mom, wake up. Stevie has to pee.” Lina is shaking my shoulder and Stevie is pacing the room, whining, waiting for someone to let her outside. I wake panicked, afraid of what she will see in the room.  But Adam must have cleaned up before he left. The scrubs I wore home last night are folded neatly next to me.

“Okay, Lina, just give me a moment.”

When I bring Lina to the atrium, Ms. Black says nothing of Ian’s baby being born. Crane must be keeping it a secret. I’ve discovered lately that he is excellent at keeping secrets. The Volker guards greet me at the entrance to the lab making no mention of my outburst at the hospital. I try not to think about last night, about Ian’s baby, my accusations towards Crane, Adam.

I delve deep into the data analysis, burying myself, ignoring the world around me.

By lunch time my analysis is complete.

All of the current District Residents have been assigned their genetic pair. Female residents over the age of 35 have been removed and males over the age of 45 have also been removed, since their reproductive organs are highly prone to genetic errors. Thankfully, Crane allowed me to leave a few current families intact, even though he ruined mine.

I call Kira to the lab so she can match the Resident codes with their actual names. The children of the District have been assigned their own genetic pair but they will not be told of their match until they are of age.

I call Crane and tell him that I have completed the task, slamming the phone down before he has time to respond to me. I tell neither of them that I have pulled the Sovereign names from the analysis, and they sit in a separate file, unpaired. I save the completed file on a removable drive and set it on Kira’s desk. Then I go to the atrium and sit on the tall curved stairwell that leads to the empty second floor of the building and watch the children and Ms. Black.

A Volker guard walks up next to me. He’s the same one from yesterday who brought me to the hospital and then brought me back to the loft, a completely changed person.

“I heard you’re done with the pairings.” This is new with the Volker, usually they don’t talk to me; they just stand quietly, watching, protecting. This one must be testing his boundaries.

“News travels fast I guess.”

“Do you know who I’ve been paired with?” I look at the guard, he looks hopeful, possibly even a little excited.

“How do you know about the pairings?” I wasn’t aware that anyone outside of the Committee meetings knew of my task, or what I was responsible for. The knowledge that I am directly responsible for deciding who will spend the rest of their lives together gnaws on my conscience. Especially because somewhere in that list was Ian’s code.

“Only some of us know,” he responds sheepishly.

“I don’t know the names. They’ve been assigned by codes. Kira will be here soon to fill in the actual names.”

The Volker walks back towards the laboratory door and waits.

It’s only a few minutes before Kira walks in the front door letting a cold rush of air into the large atrium. She brushes the powdery snowflakes off her parka and stomps on the carpet to get the snow off her shoes. I wave to her and she walks to the stairwell where I’m sitting.

“The file is on your desk.”

“Great, it shouldn’t take me long. Did you tell Crane?”  She takes her gloves and scarf off, stuffing them into the canvas bag slung across her chest.

“Yeah I told him.” I don’t tell her that I slammed the phone down in his ear.

She leaves me at the stairwell, almost running towards the lab, and I wait.

A static energy hangs in the air of the atrium. Kira should be done soon, placing the names with the resident codes. The front door swings open again, letting another rush of cold winter air rush across the atrium. This time it’s Adam. He heads straight for the lab. I make no effort to call him over to me, especially after his warning last night; no one can know about us. He’s in the lab for a few minutes before he walks out, searching the corners of the atrium and walking over to the stairwell where I’m sitting.

“You’re done with the pairings?” Adam asks, also seeming a little anxious.

“Yes. How do you know?”

“Crane is calling a Committee meeting. I’ve been sent to collect you.”

“I don’t want to go to the meeting, Adam.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to have to explain to Crane why I removed all the District Sovereign names from that list,” I tell him.

I’m sure Crane will be furious with me. He warned me, he’s been sending me gifts, giving me my space, he didn’t even yell at me for confronting him in the middle of the night. I know what he expects, but he’s not going to get it.

“Don’t worry. The building will be filled with Volker. You’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” He offers his hand to help me get up from the stairs. “How do I know he doesn’t have your entire faction in his pocket, Adam? That he could snap his fingers and you would all turn your backs? Crane organized this District. He was successful with the one in Japan. I don’t doubt there are a lot of people that would look the other way if he wanted to punish me.”

“Yes, Andie, he did, but the Funding Entities have ensured that the Volker do not answer to Crane, the Volker will always be your loophole of protection.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“How can you still not trust me?”

I take Adam’s hand and he pulls me to stand next to him. We walk across the atrium to collect the children and Ms. Black.

--

“I would like to begin this meeting with a round of applause.” Crane claps his hands together, high in front of his face, and we do as we are asked. “As some of you may know, last night we had our first birth within the walls of the Phoenix District. This is a joyous day. All that we have been working towards together is finally coming to fruition.” The rest of the Sovereign smile and clap with Crane, everyone except for me. I watch as Adam even plays along. “Now that Andromeda has completed the genetic pairing of the residents the next topic on our agenda is waking up the town.” Crane pauses, waiting for objections. “I would like to suggest the same format we followed in Japan, which worked quite well. The medication will be withdrawn in a slow manner, a titration, where each resident will receive less and less over a period of time. Once the medication has cleared their systems they will be confused and disoriented, but for a short period of time. Once we explain to them what has happened they will resume their lives as they have been since the blast.”

“How long will it take?” I ask.

“Approximately a year,” he adds without pausing, almost dismissing me. “We will start with the laboring factions first, the Orderlies and Navigators, and those who are mostly uneducated. Then we move onto the other factions; the Currents, teachers and medical staff. We found in Japan that the educated residents were able to assimilate much easier when they saw the rest of the District cooperating.”

This means one thing to me. Over the next year Ian will wake up, and since he is one of the nuclear engineers at the plant, he will be one of the last residents. I wonder if he might remember us, knowing that everything which has happened would surely break his heart.

The meeting continues with updates from the Sovereign. Another list of supplies is prepared for Remington. More food, clothes, medical supplies for the impending baby boom Crane is expecting and seeds to get the crops started in the spring.

I watch Crane as he speaks, trying to control my facial expressions, trying to make it look like I am simply listening to him run this meeting, because I don’t want him to know what I am truly thinking: I need to get us out of here, soon.

chapter twenty-one

It’s night. Lina is fast asleep and I should be too. But I can’t sleep. Not after today’s committee meeting.  I sit in a dining room chair in front of the large windows facing the lake. The moonlight is glowing off the snowflakes, giving them the effect of tiny lights falling from the sky. The heavy grumble of a snow plow passes by the building. There is a knock at the door. When I turn around I see a Volker guard standing there. As I get closer I notice that it is Adam. I open the door and let him in. He looks out of place in the head to toe gray outfit.

“What are you doing here in uniform?” I ask.

“I had a late meeting with Crane.” Something is wrong.

“Come in, what’s wrong?”

I take his arm, pulling him towards the kitchen and as I do the cuff from his rolled sleeve rises above his elbow. He tries to pull his arm back but it’s too late, I’ve already seen it. The blood soaked bandage on the soft inner tissue of his forearm. Just like the one Remington had after he passed his training and was designated the Runner, Adam has been injected with a transmitter.

“Adam? Why do you have a transmitter?" I try to control the panic in my voice, the realization that Crane is once again about to take someone away from me.

"I didn't have a choice, Andie.”

“What do you mean you didn’t have a choice?”

“Crane keeps complaining that Remington is too slow. He takes too long. The last time he went out he was gone almost two weeks. Some supplies have been missing and Crane has seen him deviating from his travel pattern. I’m being sent to follow him.”

“And what does he want you to do if you find Remington breaking the rules?” Adam looks out the window, at the falling snow. “Adam?” He won’t look at me. He stares off in the distance, towards the lake.  “Adam?”

“Kill him.”

“And would you?” I’m sure he has before, killed a person. It goes with the territory of being a Marine. For some reason, this realization doesn’t bother me one bit.

“I'm not going to give Crane anything to hold over my head and control me. But I do need to find out what Remington has been doing out there for so long.” He pauses for a moment, looking back in my eyes. “But now, I have Crane’s full trust. I’ll have the codes for the Gateway and the train. It should make things a lot easier for us, for you and Lina, to get you both out of here.”

“That’s not going to help you, Adam, when Crane pushes his little heart attack button.”

He sighs heavily and reaches out, drawing me to him. “I know,” he responds solemnly, wrapping his arms around me, pressing the length of our bodies together. “I leave in the morning.”

Adam stays the night but unlike last night we sit on the couch, wrapped around each other, talking. I rub my finger over the bandage on his arm feeling the hard lump from the small transmitter under his skin. I lay my head on his chest breathing in his scent, trying to memorize it. During the long stretches of silence, when I’m unable to stop my mind from running, I think about Ian waking up in a year only  to find his life changed, his wife and daughter two years older, and untouchable to him, forced to move on. That is, if he remembers us at all.

I have come to the realization that Crane will use whoever he can against me, to make me cooperate and continue the pairings. This is already evident with the way he dangled Lina over my head until I agreed to work with him and the birth of Ian’s child. The only way that I can keep Ian safe from Crane’s grasp, and off of his radar, is to move on. Ian may not remember us, but as long as I hold him close to me, his life will always be in danger.

Now, there’s Adam. Our protector-the only one I can trust right now-and for some reason I'm drawn to him, more so than I should be, more so than any wife of another man should be. And Crane is sending Adam on a mission, with the ability to take his life with just the push of a button.

During the wee hours of the morning Adam gets up to leave. We stand in Lina’s doorway and watch her sleep for a few moments, her face peaceful, innocent, not deserving of everything that has happened.

"I don't want you to go again,” I whisper to him as we stand there. “I don't want to be left here with Crane looming over me."

"Now that you're done with the pairings you can prepare. Crane said you are free to do as you please until the next generation is ready to be paired. I need you to collect supplies and prepare Lina." He kisses my forehead, pulling away after a few minutes to look into my eyes.

And now he is gone, the first of us able to get outside the gates of the Phoenix District.

chapter twenty-two

When it’s time, I wake Lina and get her ready for class. I bring Stevie with me and we sit on the curved stairway to watch Ms. Black instruct the children in writing, reading and mathematics. I run my hand over Stevie's long shaggy black hair. The process of getting out of the District consumes me. I have to take Lina, I can't leave Stevie and then there's Ian. He has no idea who we are right now and dragging him along with us would be futile. Walking back to Phoenix was hard enough, taking four days, with just me and Adam. Sneaking out with a six year old and a dog will be much harder, almost impossible. And if Crane finds us I'm sure he will put an end to our lives, all of us. Hopefully, while I'm collecting supplies, Adam is formulating some type of a plan, because we can’t get out of here without him.

While Lina is in class I busy myself with cleaning the lab and the loft. I make a pile of clothes on the floor of the closet, things we might need on a spring trek through the woods.

Two days after Adam left to follow Remington, I was called to the hospital to check on Ian’s baby. This time they were smart enough to get his parents out of the room. While I was there I was able to collect some supplies; a scalpel, sutures, bandages, irrigation solution, antibiotic ointment and sterile gloves.

It’s been four days since Adam left and Crane has called me to a meeting. As the Volker guard escorts me to Crane’s office I tell him, “Do not to leave my side.” I don’t trust Crane and I definitely don’t want to be left alone with him, especially after what happened last time.

“Yes ma’am,” the Volker replies, nodding to me.

As soon as the door to Crane’s office opens it is obvious that he is not happy.

“Andromeda, come in. Volker, you wait outside.” He dismisses the guard with the wave of his hand.

“No, I want him here.” Crane stops and glares at me.

“Have it your way then.” He swings the door closed and walks to his desk to sit. “It appears, Andromeda, that you have forgotten a key piece to the pairings.” He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” It’s another bad lie. I know exactly what he is talking about. I pulled the Sovereign from the list. I’ve been expecting this meeting.

“Dear Andromeda, I thought I made the details of our agreement clear. You were to pair up the residents and the Sovereign.” He taps his fingers on the smooth wooden desk expectantly.

“I won’t do it.”

“Why not?” Crane rises from his desk chair and starts walking towards me. Now I’m thankful that I thought to keep the Volker with me. Especially if he tries anything like he did last fall.

“I refuse to pair myself, Crane. Besides, I’m already married.” I try my best poker face. I have already decided to set Ian free, to protect him by moving on. I just have to make sure Crane sees that. “What am I suppose to tell Ian when he is woken up in a year?”

“I told you to forget him, Andromeda, you need to move on. Was being present at the delivery of his child not enough for you? He won’t remember you. I’ve already seen to that.”

“What did you do to him?”

“Nothing that you could do anything about, consider him lost to you. It’s best you move on, you and Lina both.”

Knowing that Lina will not have her father pains at me. He won’t be there to see her lose her first tooth, get her first haircut, see her turn sixteen, get married, he’s going to miss it all. I look away from Crane, mostly because I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. “I’m not ready.”

“You need to find it within yourself to get ready, Andromeda. The District is waiting on you.”

“You can’t expect this of me.” I can feel my chin start to tremble; I push my lips together and take a deep breath in. “What am I suppose to tell Lina? I can’t do this. I’m not ready.”

“Move on,” he sneers at me, thoroughly agitated.

“Goodbye, Crane.” I turn and leave without being dismissed. Another tick on the growing list of insubordination Crane is no doubt compiling against me. I’m sure none of the other Sovereign show Crane the same blatant disrespect as I do, one of these days it’s going to get me in a load of trouble.

“You may want to reconsider who you chose to trust, Andromeda,” Crane calls to me as I slam the door to his office.

Thankfully the Volker follows me and escorts me back to the chemistry building. I don’t review the Sovereign data; instead, I review Crane’s genetic data, searching for anything that I could use against him.

--

Adam is gone almost four weeks. Just as I am about to conclude that he must be dead and may never return to us, Crane calls a Committee meeting. After we are all seated, Crane and Adam enter the room. Adam must have just gotten back. He’s covered in dried mud, with a scruffy beard, most of his knuckles are caked in dried blood and there is a dark bruise under his left eye. As I wait for Crane to start the meeting I notice Remington is nowhere in sight.

“I regret to inform the members of the Committee that our newest member will no longer be present,” Crane tells us. “As expected, he was found to be involved in some peculiar activity which resulted in his termination.” Crane gives us all a grave look. I know it is not one of concern for Remington, but a threat, that if any of us should try anything similar we will meet the same fate.

Crane doesn’t go into detail of the activity Remington was involved in. Instead he continues the meeting with a review of the first group of residents who have started the medication titration. I watch Alexander and Morris give meticulous descriptions of how the residents are coping, they talk excitedly and animatedly. I wonder what Crane has against them, what keeps them here, participating in this overhaul of our town?

Crane commences the meeting by asking for a list of supplies which anyone may need. Morris tells us that the past two trips Remington was on, only half of the food stock that was ordered was delivered and the District already needs more. I look to Adam, who, for the first time ever in a Committee meeting, is staring directly at me. No one has to say it. If we are short on food, Crane is going to send the Runner out to get more, and since Remington is out of the picture Adam is the only one to go.

--

It is late. I stare across the long living space, out the window at the misty rain. I wait anxiously for Adam, sitting on the floor next to the door. I jump to my feet when I hear his footsteps. Pulling open the door, I throw myself at him, my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly to me.

“You were gone too long. I was afraid something happened.”

“There was a situation.” He releases me and pushes me back by my shoulders. “We need to talk.” I follow him to the couch.

“What happened to Remington?” I can’t stop thinking about Crane saying he was terminated.

“He has been reassigned. Crane can’t afford to lose any more residents. He’s been medicated, assigned to work with the convicts.”

“What happened out there, Adam?”

“Andie, you will never believe it,” he tells me, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What?” I ask.

“The world is continuing on as though the town of Phoenix never existed.”

Adam launches into a detailed account of what he saw. There are barricades on all the roads and highways, blocking any traffic from getting within ten miles of the electric fence that encompasses The District. The National Guard has set up secured blockades to prevent traffic from entering the county. The large city where I used to work has lost over half of its population, the populace has moved away, afraid of the radiation they were told was haunting Phoenix County.

Remington had to travel to Pennsylvania and the Carolinas to collect the necessary supplies. He was unaware for most of the trip that Adam had hidden on the train, hiding in the rear cars, watching his every move. The Runner is under strict orders to collect the supplies, rendezvous with the Funding Entities’ and return. Instead, Remington was spending time in taverns where the train stopped, soliciting women. On the last stop Adam witnessed him telling a woman in the bar the secrets of the Phoenix District, that we were all there and still alive. Adam picked a fight with him before he could say much. That’s how he got the black eye, the bloody knuckles. Remington was drunk but aware enough to recognize Adam, a fellow Volker and his superior. Adam dragged Remington back to the Phoenix District and reported to Crane.

“Now what?” I ask Adam, hopeful that he has a plan.

“Crane is sending me out in two days. You need to be ready to leave.”

“So soon,” I’m surprised and hopeful to finally get out of here, to get Lina to safety. “I can’t believe we are going to get out of here.”

“Andie,” Adam’s voice turns dire. “I can’t get too far away.”

“What? Why?” My stomach sinks at his words, I thought he was going to leave with us, escape and never look back, I thought we were going to do this together.

“The transmitter.” He holds his forearm out at me. There is a small red mark where the transmitter was injected into his upper arm.

I almost forgot. “I can take it out,” I tell him. I have the medical supplies I collected after he left.

He stares disbelieving at me. “How would you take it out?”

“I have supplies, from the hospital.” I go to the closet and get the things I stole from the hospital. Adam follows me to the table as I lay them out. “I just don’t have any anesthetic. They had that under lock and key.” I stare at the supplies, confident; the only thing making me nervous is the suturing. I have never stitched a wound before, but I have watched many times and even practiced with a tomato once.

“So you would cut this thing out of me. And I’d feel it all?” His eyes shift from the gleaming scalpel to my eyes.

“Unfortunately.” Adam stares for a few moments then he takes off his thin khaki jacket throwing it on the floor, and starts rolling his sleeve up to his shoulder.

“Do it.”

“It’s going to hurt,” I warn him.

“I’m sure it’s nothing that I haven’t felt before.” He looks at me expectantly. He doesn’t have to elaborate; I’ve seen his scars, and I know that he was the receiver of something very painful.

I scrub his arm with soap for three minutes and then I wash my hands and arms for the same amount of time. Thankfully the scalpel came packaged with a sterile drape, which I use to cover his arm. I hesitate, just before pressing the sharp scalpel to his skin. I look at his face afraid for the pain he is about to feel. His face is calm, hopeful; he looks to his arm, waiting for me to cut the transmitter out.

I press down and the sharp scalpel cuts into his arm smoothly, like it’s made of soft butter. A thick rivet of blood starts flowing around the scalpel and down his arm. The transmitter was injected within the top layers of subcutaneous tissue and I don’t have to press down far before I feel it. There isn’t much scar tissue collected around the transmitter and once I get the skin open I easily pull the small metallic object out of his arm with a pair of tweezers, dropping it into a nearby bowl. I irrigate the area and then do my best at stitching the small wound. It takes only five stitches. I coat it with antibiotic ointment and cover it with fresh gauze. Only when I am done do I realize that Adam never made a sound the entire time I was cutting into his arm and stitching it up.

When I am done we both stare at the almost flat, oblong transmitter in the bowl. “What do we do with it?” I ask Adam.

“I have to keep it near me, so Crane thinks it’s still in. It’s just so small I’m afraid I’ll lose it.” We stare at it a little longer. I notice that there is a tiny red light blinking.

“I have an idea,” I tell Adam. I get up and go to the bedroom closet, digging in the back for the extravagantly carved wooden box Crane gave me for Christmas. I bring it back to the table where Adam sits, waiting.

“What’s that?”

“A gift I never wanted.” I open up the wooden box, and there it remains, just as the day I opened it; the jewel encrusted locket Crane gave me. I pinch open the clasp and the locket opens to a hollow center. Using the tweezers, I place the transmitter in the middle of the locket and then carefully pinch the clasp closed.

“Now what?” Adam watches me closely.

“Give me your arm.” I wrap the long chain around his upper arm and adjust the locket so it falls against the sensitive skin of his inner arm. I pull his sleeve down covering the locket and his wound. “If you notice any drainage from the transmitter we can only assume it is the potassium and Crane is done with you, you are dead to him.” I watch Adam’s light blue eyes, waiting for his next move.

“This is an expensive piece of jewelry Andie.” Adam eyes the small bulge where the locket rests under his sleeve.

“Enjoy it. I hope you don’t mind that I re-gifted.” I stand up and start cleaning, throwing away the bloody drape and washing the scalpel and tweezers in the sink. I find a small towel to wrap the medical supplies in, so I can take it with us when we leave.

Adam watches me from the chair. When I go to the bedroom closet to place the medical supplies in my travel pile he follows me. “Andie, what about Ian?” He asks me.

“What about him?”

“If we’re going to leave, do you want me to get him out too?”

I can’t believe he is asking me this now, after all we’ve been through, he waits until we are about to leave to ask about my husband. “Crane did something to him while you were gone. He confronted me for not pairing up the Sovereign and when I brought up Ian he informed me that Ian won’t remember us. I’m not sure how he did it, but he made it clear that Ian is not the same. He doesn’t know us and he won’t remember us.”

“Andie, I don’t want you to regret this.”

“I regret that I can’t save Ian.” I close the closet door and face Adam. “But he’s gone now. Crane took him and the only way I can keep him safe is to move on.” I stare at the floor, ashamed.

And then Adam is walking towards me, pulling me into his arms, pressing his warm lips to mine. Too easily I reach up, wrapping my arms around his neck, running my fingers through his dark hair. A deep groan escapes his throat when my fingertips brush the sensitive skin on the back of his neck.

“Andie,” he whispers in my ear. “The whole time I was gone, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Then his lips are back on mine, his long fingers entwined in my hair, tipping my head back. But that’s all. He doesn’t press on, and neither do I. Both of us are too consumed, boiling with the anticipation of escape.

Before Adam leaves in the early morning he wakes me up, brushing his thumb across my cheekbone. “Be ready, Andie. We leave tomorrow night. I’ll come for you and Lina.”

--

Today is escape day.

While Lina is in class I get an escort to take me to the grocery store. I find that Alexander and Morris were right when they said that we were low on supplies. There is only two or three of each item on the shelves; however, the cereal and grains are completely out. I stock up on small items that are easy for travel; raisins, nuts, peanut butter, a few bottles of water and pretzels. I wander the store, searching for anything else I could bring with us. At the end of the sparsely stocked bread isle I find a section with school supplies. The pencils and papers are fully stocked, which is understandable since the District has taken over the schools, supplying each child with the necessary items needed for school. Parents are no longer responsible for buying them. Hanging on a hook are three large backpacks. Exactly what I need. The colors could be a little better though. I look up and down the long grocery isle. My Volker guard stands at the end of the aisle, talking with another Volker. I take two of the backpacks; one is light pink the other brown. I roll them up and hide them in the bottom of my grocery bag.

I return to the chemistry building just as Ms. Black is finishing class. I bring Lina upstairs with me and cook a quick dinner. I tell Lina we are going on a trip to see Uncle Sam, her uncle, my brother. She seems genuinely excited since she hasn’t seen him in almost a year. I’m not sure how else to explain what we are doing, since we will be sneaking out of the District in the middle of the night, trekking through the woods since travel by car is no longer viable. The main highways have been mostly destroyed to prevent easy access to the District.

We clean up and shower like we would any other night. But this time we dress in dark clothes. Dressing Lina for the night is hard since most of her clothing is brightly colored in pinks and purples. I dig in her pile of clothes and find a pair of jeans and leather boots. As I dig further I find a dark brown turtleneck and an oversized coat that is colored light brown. When she is all dressed I step back and take a look. She would be barely recognizable in the dark clothes if it weren’t for her thick mane of blonde curls cascading down her back. I do my best at French braiding her hair, the curls kink her hair, causing large uneven bulges in the braid.

Next I dress myself. Finding dark colors is easy since my closet is filled with mostly black and brown colored clothing. I decide on a pair of heavy jeans, a black shirt and black jacket. In the pile of gifts from Crane are two scarves, one is a mixture of purple hues, the other browns. I pull them both out to bring with us. Lina claps with excitement when I show her the pink backpack I picked up at the store. When I tell her to pick out two toys to bring with us, she chooses her trusty stuffed owl and, of all things, the fancy gold tiara Crane sent her for her birthday last year.

The closer to nightfall it gets the faster my heart starts racing. My fingers tremble as I pack the food, the water, a bag of kibble for Stevie, and extra clothes in my backpack. I find my work bag with the reflective blanket still stuffed in the bottom from my trek home with Adam over a year ago. I hide the backpacks in my room and wait for Adam to show up.

As we wait Lina sleeps on the couch with Stevie curled up next to her. I know I should get some rest but instead I pace the loft. The sun has been down for hours and it’s already close to midnight. I still haven’t heard anything from Adam. I’m starting to think that maybe I should just leave on my own. I’ve lived in this county my whole life and I know most of the back roads and trails. The hard part would be getting past the electrified fence on the other side of Oswego Falls. I don’t have the codes, but I’m sure I could find some way through.

Finally, there’s a knock on the door. Stevie runs past me to answer it. I can see Adam behind the heavy glass, dressed in black cargo pants, a fitted black jacket and a black knit cap. The dark clothing is a stark contrast against his blue eyes, which seem to be glowing. I open the door to let him in. He’s relaxed and smiles at me. I am far too tense to smile at him.

“Are you ready?” I nod yes to him. “Get your things.”

I grab the backpacks from the bedroom and wake Lina up. I take the purple scarf and wrap it around the top of her head and loosely around her neck, to keep her warm and help camouflage her. I do the same for myself with the brown scarf. The pink backpack came with a waist clip and I have it adjusted to fit on Stevie’s back. Within a few minutes we are ready to go.

“Ready,” I whisper to Adam. I pick Lina up from the couch; she wraps her arms and legs around me, laying her head on my shoulder. “Lina, we have to be very quiet now. You can sleep on my shoulder if you want.” She nods sleepily at me as we follow Adam into the hallway.

He brings us to an empty stairwell down the hall from the elevator. One of the few places where there are no cameras. I follow Adam down the five flights of stairs to the basement level. We head for the underground tunnel which I have used to escape before. Instead of leaving through the door that exits directly to the outside, Adam brings us through the Biology building, leading us through the basement and up a flight of stairs. The building is dark and empty. Our footsteps leave soft echoes on the linoleum floor. Stevie follows closely without needing to be told. Once we reach the main floor Adam walks us across the length of it until we reach a side door on the opposite side of the building.  Adam stops for a moment, pulling a key out of his pocket and unlocking the metal security door. Once we are all through he pushes the door closed and re-locks it. Across the parking lot is a black SUV, one of the Volker vehicles. I reach out and grab Adams arm, to warn him.

“It’s our car,” he whispers to me. “Come on.”

He leads me by my free hand as we walk towards the waiting SUV. Adam opens the back door. I snap and point at Stevie, she jumps up onto the passenger bench. Adam supports my elbow as I slide in with Lina on my lap, then he gets behind the wheel. He sits and waits for a moment, looking around the parking lot and buildings. I look at the glowing digital clock on the dashboard; it’s just after one in the morning. My heart is beating fast with anticipation. Lina sleeps soundly on my shoulder. Adam starts the vehicle and drives slowly out of the parking lot, heading out onto the main streets. He accelerates, driving fast. The town feels eerily empty as we pass all the dark houses, which are filled with residents who are fast asleep, resting up for the next day’s hustle of keeping the District running.

“Where are we headed?” I ask.

“We have to go north to the train station. Crane is expecting it to leave by morning.”

“You usually run in the middle of the night?”

“Always at night, never during the day. The road stops in about twenty miles and then it’s another four on foot to the train station. The station and the Gateway are guarded but they’re expecting me and I will be able to sneak you into the last car without anyone noticing.”

After Adam’s explanation there is nothing left to talk about. I sit back, holding Lina close to me as she sleeps. I watch the dark forest and empty buildings as the SUV speeds down the highway. After less than thirty minutes Adam pulls off the road, parking at an empty rest stop. He gets out and opens the door for us. Stevie jumps out and paces the dirt parking lot. Adam supports my arm as I scoot out of the vehicle carrying Lina. The early spring air is cool and damp. I am grateful that it’s not raining.

“This way.” Adam walks towards the woods, stopping to hold back a heavy branch of brush. I hesitate, staring at the woods. The last time Lina and I were out we were attacked by a hungry pack of wolves. Adam must sense my hesitation. “It’s ok. I take this trail all the time at night. Worst case scenario, I have a gun if we need it.”

I trust him. “Okay,” I whisper.

“And stop whispering, no one is out here to hear us.”

As I walk under the brush I can see that Adam is right. He hands me a flashlight and walks ahead of us, illuminating a dark but cleared trail. Stevie runs ahead of us, sniffing each tree. I shine the light towards the pink pack on her back every few minutes to make sure she hasn’t gotten too far ahead of us. Thankfully the ground is even and free of debris, but Lina is fast asleep, and carrying her forty pounds of dead weight starts to slow me down. I fall further and further behind Adam and Stevie, carrying her and the fast paced walking has me almost out of breath. Finally Adam stops and walks back to me.

“Do you want me to take her?” He asks as I reach him, out of breath.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, she’s too heavy.” Adam lifts Lina out of my arms.

“Adam’s going to carry you, Lina,” I tell her as he shifts her weight.

“Hi, Adam,” Lina mumbles as she wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder.

“Hi, Lina.” Adam rubs her back and starts walking ahead of me. I watch him walk quickly on the trail, his back tall and straight, even under the weight of Lina. I realize, if I had left without him I probably would have never made it, I would never have been able to transport Lina to safety by myself. Stevie circles back in the woods and reappears walking next to me. I reach down and pat her head.

We walk for what seems like hours on the dark trail. Adam doesn’t seem to tire at all carrying Lina and keeps up the same pace.

“What happens after we get past the gates?” I ask him.

“Then I have to get you two to safety. Don’t you have a brother who lives near the city?”

“Sam, yeah.”

“Hopefully we can stash you there until I’m done.”

“What do you mean until you’re done?”

“I have to finish the job, Andie.” Suddenly I think Adam isn’t talking about his job as the Runner.

“What do you mean, Adam? I thought we were getting out of here together. I don’t want to go on without you. What if Crane finds us?”

Adam stops and turns to look at me. I can barely see his face in the dark woods. But a few slivers of moonlight drift down between the leaves, illuminating his bright eyes in the darkness.

“I have to go back, Andie.”

“What are you talking about?”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s no coincidence I walked back to Phoenix with you, that you found me lying in the road. I parachuted out of a helicopter. I was sent to find you and escort you back to Phoenix.”

I step back, the shock obvious on my face. All this time, everyone warning me who I should trust, I thought Adam was the only person whom I could trust. But this whole time, he was the one who brought me here, who brought me into this hell.

“I trusted you.” I reach for Lina. “Give me back my daughter.”

“Andie, wait.” He pushes my hands away. “This is about more than you and me and Crane. I was sent in here on a mission, I can’t leave until it’s complete.”

“Shut up!” I snap back at him. “I don’t know why I ever trusted you in the first place.” I reach for Lina again but he grabs my arm, holding it tight, pulling me to him so I can see in his eyes.

“I didn’t even know if I would find you, I didn’t know this is what they had planned. I didn’t plan on, on-”

I interrupt him. “What Adam? You didn’t plan on what?”

“On falling for you.” He lets go of my arm, and moves his hand behind my neck. The movement is so quick I barely realize what he’s done, he’s pulling my face towards his, pressing his lips to mine. On any other day, any other day before this one, I would fall into him and return the kiss. But right now, I want nothing more than to slap him across the face for all he’s put me through, for not telling me the truth. I yank my head away from him.

“Don’t you ever touch me again! Now, get us out of here, Adam.”

The rest of the walk is in silence. I no longer follow Adam with the hope that we are going to escape together. Now, I follow him with the sole expectation of getting my daughter out of this godforsaken place.

chapter twenty-three

The gray moonlight fills the sky and filters through the leaves. The branches have been trimmed back creating a soft glowing tunnel. Lina is still sound asleep on Adam’s shoulder. The light is getting brighter and I can see that we are nearing the end of the tunnel. Adam slows, creeping towards the exit. I do the same and reach down to hold Stevie’s collar, preventing her from bounding out into the clearing. I can see the shadow of the large black train in front of us. Adam pulls back a thick branch that covers the exit. He waits, looking up and down the length of the train. Then he looks back to me, for the first time in hours.

“Let’s go, quickly.” He holds the branch as Stevie and I walk past him. The train is seven cars long. Adam brings us to the sixth car and pushes open the heavy metal door.

“Stevie up.” I pat the floor of the train car and she backs up, running and leaping into it. I place my hands on the floor of the train car and jump, struggling to pull my lower body into the car. I feel Adam push up on my feet to help.

“Don’t touch me!” I snap back at him. Once I get myself inside I turn around to get Lina. Adam passes her to me then reaches up to pass me his flashlight. I take it from him, refusing to look at his face. He grabs my forearm.

“Andie, I need you to trust me, now more than ever.” He waits, holding my arm until I look at him. But I can’t bring myself to look in his eyes, he’s hurt me far more than I think Crane ever could have.

“You should have thought of that before.” I yank my arm away from him so hard I almost fall over.

“I’m sorry, Andie.” With that he slides the heavy door to the train closed.

I catch one last glimpse into his eyes just before the door closes.

I lean back against the hard metal wall of the train car. It smells old, musty, there is a heavy layer of dirt covering the floor. Stevie wanders through the large cargo area. I flick the flashlight on and look around. It is empty and almost pitch black with the flashlight off. Somehow, Lina continues to sleep.

Now we wait. I fume over Adam’s lies to me, barely noticing that there’s a tiny tingle of joy over being free of the District, finally, and getting to see Sam after over a year without him in our lives.  Suddenly, I am hit with a wave of nausea, similar to what I would experience after a night of work in the NICU. I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes, hoping that maybe if I can get a little bit of sleep it will help pass the time.

The dull heavy sound of the train horn wakes me and the train car jerks hard into motion, sending me falling onto my side and hitting my head against the metal wall. The train starts moving slowly.

“Mom?” Lina wakes up.

I sit up and pull her onto my lap. “It’s ok, Lina. It’s just the train.”

“What happened to the seats?” She looks around the car with the flashlight.

“It’s not that kind of a train. Just sit with me until it gets moving. I don’t want you to fall.”

From a small crack between the metal walls, I watch the trees pass in the moonlight as the train moves. Adam said the train travels for about five miles before it reaches the Gateway then he has to get out and punch in the code to get the electric fence to open. At this rate it feels like it will take forever to get through the five miles.

Lina lies against me and I un-wrap the scarf from her head and mine, placing them in my backpack. “We aren’t coming back are we, Mom?” she asks. I should have known she would sense that the trip wasn’t right, sneaking out at night, walking through the woods, and now the train.

“No, honey. I hope not.”

We sit in silence and listen to the train, the way it creaks and groans. When it stops I look out the crack. I can see the electric fence stretching through the forest. It must be twenty feet high with a thick curling of barbed wire on top of it. “Look, Lina, we can see out through this crack.” I point to the thin strip of pale light on the wall. Lina adjusts herself so she can see out of it.

“Mom, why are there people outside?” She asks.

“What?” My heart starts fluttering.

“Look.” She points in front of the car. But I don’t need to look. I can hear men arguing, and the voices are familiar. Before I have time to stand up and run to the other side of the car with Lina, the heavy door concealing us opens.

There stands a group of men, mostly Volker. As my eyes adjust to the bright light, I see Crane looking very out of place in his suit and Adam, standing behind the crowd, his arms crossed over his chest, angry.

Crane speaks first. “Andromeda? How very odd it is to find you here.” He smiles his signature smug smile. “We have Catalina also, and even the dog.” Stevie growls at him from the open door. “Come now, Andromeda, get yourself out of there so these fine men can escort you home.”

My gut drops, my heart races, I’m sweating. We had been wanting to escape for weeks, months even. And then Crane waltzes in destroying our hopes of escape. Adam watches me intently. I do my best to climb out of the train car and turn to reach up for Lina. Once she is in my arms I don’t set her down. She buries her face in my neck, scared.

“You see, Adam. I told you that you were hauling precious cargo.” Crane looks expectantly between me and Adam. He must have known or sensed something between us. This must be why Adam had been ignoring me for so long, trying to lead Crane away from our relationship, so he wouldn’t sense that we were plotting behind his back. I know that I have to at least try and preserve Crane’s trust in Adam. Because even though I am angry with him, he kept his word. And he is the only one who can save us from whatever punishment Crane has planned.

“I followed him,” I tell Crane, my voice shaky. “He didn’t know, he had nothing to do with this.” It’s the best lie I’ve ever told, it even sounds believable coming out of my mouth.

Crane raises his eyebrows. “You followed Adam through the woods, at night, with a child and a dog? I find that hard to believe, Andromeda.”

“It’s true. I’ve been watching him for months. Keeping track of when he leaves, what truck he drives. We snuck out, at dark, hid in the trunk, waited under a blanket and the trail was easy to follow.” I do my best to keep my face calm and relaxed so Crane will believe me.

“Well, this is some interesting news. All this time, I never suspected you would try this, that you could plan it. I never took you for a stowaway. Are you so unhappy with our service here, Andromeda, even after all you have been provided with, the status you’ve been assigned?”

“I miss my life, before this.” That was easy to tell him, because it was the absolute truth.

“Well, I am sorry for you. District rules supersede here. You will be brought back to your living quarters.” He turns stoically to Adam. “My apologies Colonel Waters, you may continue on with your duties. Godspeed.” Crane waves his hand in circular motion, signaling the Volker to collect us.

We are ushered to a small road near the fence where there is a waiting line of black SUVs. I carry Lina and Stevie follows us closely. The Volker break up, some of them walking back towards the train and the gateway, a few others get into waiting SUVs and driving off. One guard remains; he opens the back door of a vehicle. I tell Stevie to get in and place Lina beside her and buckle her in. I close the door and walk around to the other side of the SUV with the Volker; he opens the rear door and waits for me to get in. There is a loud, static crackle from the radio inside the truck. He opens the front door, reaching for the radio. And that’s all it takes, one small distraction.

Suddenly someone is pulling me by the arm, backwards, away from the SUV where Lina and Stevie are. I hear Stevie barking and Lina yelling my name.

“Help, help!” I yell just before a hand clamps over my mouth.

The Volker looks up from where he is stretched across the driver’s seat trying to answer the radio. He slams the door shut, locking Lina and Stevie inside and yells for the other Volker who should be nearby. He doesn’t run for me, for whoever is dragging me, to stop them. I’m thankful that he doesn’t leave Lina’s side, that he stays to protect her.

I hear the hustle of people running through the woods from where we came, footsteps, shouting. But it’s too late. I turn to see who is pulling me, only to find it’s the last person I want to be stuck in a vehicle with. Crane. I struggle, but somehow he’s stronger, much stronger than the last time he tried to manhandle me months ago in the lab. I am unable to push him away.

“In the car, Andromeda!” He yells fiercely at me.

“What are you trying to do, Crane?” I struggle with him, trying to push him away from me, slapping at him, but all it takes is one hard shove from him and my head hits the side of the SUV, hard.

I can feel the warm trickle of blood down the side of my face and just before I crumple to the ground he shoves me hard, again, pushing me into the back of the SUV. I fall onto the bench seat, my vision blurry, my head fuzzy. Crane slams the door, then climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the car. He doesn’t give it time to warm up before he accelerates fast. I hear the tires kick up rocks and hit the vehicle that Lina and Stevie are in as we pass them. I sit up and turn to see a row of Volker standing, watching as Crane drives away. Some of them have their pistols aimed, ready to shoot. But no one fires. No one wants to risk hitting me with a bullet.

Crane speeds down the dirt road kicking up dust and rocks in his wake. He skids onto a paved road, hitting the incline hard, causing my head to hit the roof of the SUV. I reach up, touching the top of my head, trying to hold pressure on the sharp stinging sensation. It’s when I slide my hand down the side of my face, feeling something wet and sticky that I remember Crane bashed my head into the side of the vehicle. I pull my hand away and stare at my palm caked in thick, dark blood. And I’m not sure if it’s the blood, the two hits to the head, the lack of sleep, maybe it’s everything combined which is just enough to make me pass out.

chapter twenty-four

Somehow, I am back on the train. This time Lina is sitting next to me on a plush bench and Stevie sleeps at our feet. We watch out the window as we pass by the trees and houses. Lina excitedly points out deer and birds and horses that we pass. Her hair is flowing, a mane of curls, so blonde they are almost white. I reach up and run my hand over her hair, pulling her to me and hugging her. “I love you, little Catalina,” I whisper in her ear. She smiles up at me. I haven’t seen her so happy in so long. I look around the train and it’s empty, except for us. Then I remember we left the District, we are on our way out. We are finally free.

But something is wrong. My vision isn’t as clear, the edges are cloudy, the sun too bright. The train jolts to a stop and I hit my face on the seat in front of us. When I look back to Lina she is no longer there sitting next to me. I hear her voice, yelling, screaming, calling me. But I can’t see her anywhere except when I look out the window; I see a man dragging her away. He is tall, slender with blonde hair. I know who he is before he even turns around. It’s Ian, dragging Lina away from me. I try to stand, to run after them, to stop him, but my hands and feet won’t move. They’re heavy like they are stuck to something. The train jerks into motion again, hard, causing me to smash my face onto the seat in front of me. My vision fades away quickly and everything goes black.

--

This time when I wake I am in a dark room with damp cement walls, my cheek pressing against a musty, pale linoleum floor. There are no windows, just a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling and a door with a small square window. Dread fills me, this is not a dream. This is real. This is Crane’s doing. The Volker would have deposited me back at the loft to resume my duties. They would not be involved in whatever Crane has planned. I try to push myself up off the ground but my arms are secured together in front of me with a plastic zip tie. The door opens and in walks Crane carrying a chair. He closes the door behind him and sets the chair down, sitting in it.  He sits there, watching me, like I’m nothing more than a caged animal.

“Where’s Lina?”

“You needn’t worry about your child any longer. We had an agreement, you broke it, you’ve lost her, for good this time.”

“No!” I scream at him, at the thought of losing her. His words should crush me, but instead they infuriate me. “What do you want from me?” I ask him, annoyed.

“I’m just observing, Andromeda. Trying to figure out where I went wrong with you.” He taps his index finger on his chin and continues to stare at me.

I struggle to sit myself up. Somehow I manage by raising my leg and pushing off the hard floor with my elbow. I adjust myself, sitting cross-legged, letting my tied arms lie in front of me, my fists resting on the floor.

“We are not compatible, Crane.” He sits there, tapping his chin, waiting. “We cannot be paired.”

“What makes you think that?”

“First of all, I can’t have any more children and you are genetically incompetent.”

“Really?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find it, that you could bury it in your piles of data? It was almost too easy to find it, Crane. You carry a bad gene. You know this though, spinal muscular atrophy. Any child you bring into this world with your DNA will most likely suffer a horrible, incurable death. But I’m sure I don’t need to explain this to you. You seem well educated and knowledgeable. You know this already.”

“You know, Andromeda, we could have worked around both of these issues. I’ve found ways to work around them before.”

“It doesn’t matter, Crane. I want nothing to do with you.”

“Yes, I have begun to realize this; your blatant disrespect for me, even after all I’ve given you, is quite obvious. You were different before. I never saw this in you; the deceit, the defiance, the poor attitude. Perhaps it was simply muted by the hopes I had for us.”

“What did you think was going to happen when you ruined my family, when you ruined my life? Did you think I would run to you, willingly, with open arms? With all your power and knowledge? This is your fatal flaw, Crane. This is why your little experiment here will never work. You can’t control people’s emotions. You can’t force someone to want you; no one can manipulate the human heart that way, especially you.”

“Yes. I suppose you are correct, Andromeda. Still, I was hoping you’d be different. I was hoping you would see what we are trying to do here. The Funding Entities will be saddened to learn about what you’ve become. And it pains me to know we can never replace you.” He continues tapping his chin. I listen to his words, trying to understand what he’s saying to me, and the only thing I can conclude is that he’s going to kill me. He raises his index finger in the air, pausing for a moment. “Yes, well, I cannot replace you, but I can make sure you never try to leave again. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, Andromeda, but it seems you need clarification on the rules of the District. Of all people, I was certain you would understand this the most, well, with all that you have to lose.”

He stands and walks towards me, there’s something shiny in his hand, silver and pointed. I flinch as he points it towards me, expecting him to cut me with it or stab me, but he just cuts the zip tie that was holding my hands together.

“Just to make it fair,” he says.

I scramble to my feet, not knowing what to expect next. The sudden movement causes me to sway, and my head to feel heavy. Crane picks up his chair and walks out of the room closing the door behind him.

I wait for a moment, looking around the room. I can hear the sound of deep voices outside the door and I walk over to listen. I’m not tall enough to see out the small window and there is nothing to stand on in here. Someone wiggles the lock, I back up to the middle of the room. The door opens and in walks a large man, a dark man. It takes only a few moments for me to recognize him, which is easy, because last time I saw him he was dangling my body over a bridge.

“Baillie,” I whisper. This causes a loud burst of his familiar laughter to erupt from deep within his chest. “I thought you were dead. The Volker shot you. I saw you lying in a pool of blood.” He keeps laughing and for a moment I think I must be dreaming. I look around the room, trying to find an escape, a weapon, anything. I rub my eyes hard, trying to wake myself up, but when I open them he’s still in the room with me.

“It’s amazing what modern medicine can do these days, isn’t it?” He erupts in laughter again.  I’m not sure if he’s laughing from his statement, which really wasn’t funny, or from my bewildered response to him entering the room. “Crane tells me I was reassigned to the convict faction. He only just withdrew my medications to deal with you.” His heavy southern accent is the same. He talks slowly dragging out the conversation. But I want him to stop, to stop talking and leave. “According to him, if I do a good job, he will reinstate me.”

“Oh God no,” I hope he doesn’t hear me talk under my breath, but still he erupts in laughter.

“Enough with the talking. I’ve been waiting to do this since I first met you.” Baillie cracks the knuckles on both of his hands. Crane should have left my arms bound, because there is no way in hell that this could ever be a fair fight.

I am not a fighter, but I will not just stand here and make it easy for him. Baillie is at least double my size, a monster, but I am short and quick-I hope. He lunges at me and I kick him in the shin as hard as I can, then I sprint to the other side of the room. Baillie just laughs, lunging at me again. This time I aim for his groin but I miss hitting the inside of his thigh, provoking another bout of laughter from him. I try the same method of sprinting away from him but his long arm shoots out hitting me in the face. I drop backwards falling to the ground. I try to roll, but it took me too long to recover, Baillie is looming over me in no time. I look to the door to see Crane watching from the small window, and for the first time ever, I think he might actually look sad. His image is just enough to distract me from trying to get away from Baillie, from trying to brace myself, and I’m not sure if he is truly so strong or if it’s the anticipation of the pain that makes Baillie’s second hit feel like a Mac truck is running into my face.

He doesn’t stop punching. I brace my arms in front of my face but it does nothing to stop him. I don’t give them the satisfaction of tears or pleading. I take Baillie’s pounding like a man, quietly. Not that my lungs ever have a chance to refill with fresh air, that I could get a second to say something. Instead, I hold my breath. I'm sure I hear my nose break, my ribs crack and just before I'm ready to pass out the door opens.

“Enough!”  Crane yells to Baillie. He must be satisfied, the show must be over.

They leave me alone on the floor, blood pouring out of my nose, barely able to inhale from the pain in my ribs. The metallic smell from all the blood is too much, it clogs in the back of my throat and I spit out a few clots onto the pale floor. I watch them ooze across the linoleum, creating sticky gleaming paths, bouncing off each other as they drift to a divot in the flooring. It’s not long after the globs of blood stop moving that I close my eyes.

Too soon I hear the door creak open. Using my arms I pull my body across the room to the farthest corner and try to curl into a ball, hoping I can make myself small enough that he won’t see me in the dark corner. But he stands, waiting, with his arms crossed across his chest. Please leave please leave please leave.

But he doesn’t. He stomps to my corner and reaches for my foot. I try and kick him away but it doesn’t work. He waits until the right moment, snapping out with viper reflexes, grabbing both my feet as I kick. He pulls me across the floor, back to the middle of the room and waits, crossing his arms and staring at me. I don’t know what he wants. I can only assume that he’s giving me a chance to defend myself, which is a joke. I push myself up on my knees, bending over on my elbows so I can get a few deep breaths in. I push my feet under myself then slowly, steadying myself, I stand.

There is nothing to hold onto once I am up, and it’s not long before the room starts spinning around me. I close my eyes, hoping that when I open them Baillie will be gone and I will be back somewhere safe with my family. But when I open them Baillie remains. He reaches forward and pushes my right shoulder with his index finger. I wobble backwards, barely able to steady myself. He reaches out to push on my left shoulder, and this time I slap his hand away. I realize that I should have just stood there, not reacting to his taunts, because he kicks his long leg out, sweeping my feet out from under me. I fall hard on the ground, no longer containing the reflexes to catch myself, to soften the blow of the fall. With one swift stride he pulls me up by the collar of my shirt and throws me back against the musty cement wall. My body slides down to the floor and it’s only an instant before he is pulling me up to my feet again by my collar. This time I lean my head forward and bite him on his arm, as hard as I can, trying to pierce his dark flesh with my teeth. My feeble attempt to fight back brings a deep rumble of laughter from Baillie’s chest and more pain.

Baillie continues with his work. It seems like every hour he enters the room, but it must be once or twice a day. The rest of the time I am unconscious from the pain, from the inability to breathe, from the realization that I may die without ever getting to say goodbye to Lina or Ian or Adam. I want to scream or cry, I’m not sure which, but I won’t give Crane or Baillie the satisfaction. The only thing that gives me the spark to drag my carcass off the floor each time the door opens, is the hope that I might be able to get out and find my daughter. But it’s so hard, Baillie is so strong and unrelenting. Just once it crosses my mind, that this is how Adam must have felt in the Middle East; ready to give up, ready to say something that will force them to kill you and end the pain.

On what I think could be the fourth day, I make no attempt to move when the door opens. I tell myself that if I feign death then he might stop and leave me alone. I have nothing left, Crane has only allowed me a few bottles of water, but no food. My heart rate is much too high, not from fear but from the lack of blood running through my body. I’ve lost too much, the pale floor now streaked with varying shades of red and brown.

Baillie stands over me tapping a baseball bat in his palm. I watch him from the slit of my swollen eye, through the thick crusting of blood across my lashes. I'm not sure if it is tears or blood I feel trickling down the side of my face. But I am almost certain that there is not enough moisture left in my body to produce either. Baillie kicks my feet a few times, then my arms, taunting me. But it’s no use. I see him lift the bat high in the air. I close my eyes; I have no way to brace myself for the impact. My body is a jellied mess of bruises, oozing and bleeding wounds. I'm sure there is more than one broken bone. I haven't been able to move my left arm for at least two days and there are sharp pains that shoot through my chest during the few shallow breaths I can take.

I wait, unmoving. I try to open my eyes, looking into his, hoping there might be some compassion, but his eyes are crazed, they don’t see me.

Goodbye Lina, I love you, I tell myself.

I had hoped I might be able to find my way out of this hell, but I know I most certainly will not. I will not survive the baseball bat in Baillie’s hands. Just as I expect him to hit me, as I expect to feel the bat squish into my tissues, busting them apart like a rotten melon, I hear the faint sound of the door opening and a voice- not Crane’s voice-this time it’s someone older with the hint of an accent. I crack my eye open again to see a short Asian man enter the room carrying a pistol. He aims it at Baillie yelling something to him. Baillie gives a scoffing laugh and then starts to bring his arms down directing the bat at my limp body that lies on the floor. The gun fires and a small trickle of blood dribbles out of a wound in the middle of Baillie’s forehead, just before he flops over onto the ground.

For a moment, during the few seconds of consciousness that I can muster, I think that I just saw Morris shoot Baillie dead.

chapter twenty-five

Men in gray uniform flood the room; Volker. One bends down to scoop my body off the ground. I make no attempt to move or struggle. It feels as though I have no bones left, just floppy cartilage holding my vital organs together. The Volker carries me out of the building and to a waiting car. He sits with me on his lap and I wonder if it’s Adam, but when I try and breathe in between the sharp pains in my ribs, it’s not his familiar scent that I smell.

I drift in and out of consciousness. I feel the pain of the Volker laying me down, a bright light being shined into my eyes. I’m not sure if my pupils react, or if they could even see my eyes at all, since they are mostly swollen shut and crusted with blood. Someone tries to move my broken arm and it takes all the strength I have to muster a groan, warning them that the bone is snapped in half just not yet poking through the thin layer of skin on my bruised arm.

This time, when the doctor cuts my clothes off, I don’t care who is in the room. I make no attempt to cover myself or have him ask people to leave. I almost hope that he will let me waste away and die, because death would most certainly feel much better than the pain I am feeling right now.

There is a pinch in my arm from an IV being placed. A woman’s voice whispers that she is sorry as she pushes the needle deeper into my arm. I want to laugh at her. I can barely feel it, everything else overriding her tiny pinch. There is pressure from medical tape and the cool rush of fluid pouring into my vein. Just as I’m thinking they will never give me pain medication I feel the warm tingle of morphine enter my vein, but it’s only enough to dull the pain, and I can feel everything the doctor is doing.

He starts cleaning wounds, stitching, palpating. If I could talk, I would tell him to order an x-ray already, but he must see the bruises on my ribs because not long after that I hear the clicks and hums of a portable x-ray machine. The warmth from the morphine is starting to dissipate just as I feel someone touch my broken arm. I want to tell them I need more, but my jaw won’t work. I can’t make the sound come out. And I know what’s coming; they must have seen the break in the x-ray. I have no muscle tone left to brace myself for the pulling and straightening that comes with setting the break, getting it ready for casting. The pain is sharp and strong, almost worse than when Baillie snapped it with the punch of his heavy fist. Thankfully it’s just enough to send me back into unconsciousness.

--

I wake more than once from the pain, not knowing what day it is or what time it is. I push the button in my hand to release more pain medication, my limbs feeling heavy and sore. The room is empty except for the rhythmic beeping of the cardiac monitor. If anyone enters the room I wouldn’t know or care right now. But there is a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, it hovers over me as a heavy cloud when I wake to push the button, there is something or someone that I am missing.

--

There is a sharp pain in my left arm and it wakes me, slowly at first. I pat the bed looking for the button, for more pain medication, but I can’t find it. The pain gets stronger and I reach over to hold my broken arm to my chest, trying to relieve the pain but instead of soft skin my hand meets a hard heavily textured cast. I open my eyes, able to see through both of them for the first time in days. I think days is the right word. There is no crusted blood to look through. Someone must have washed it off. I squint at the bright light coming in the window. It takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust and inspect the room, a typical hospital room. White walls, white floor, a small bathroom near the door and sink with large mirror facing the bed. For some reason someone thought it would be a good idea to place a teal and peach border of wallpaper across the middle of each wall. I stare at the border and count the feathered pattern across the wall in front of me. When I get to the corner of the wall, I am done counting and there is an odd number of colored blobs on the wallpaper. This discovery infuriates me and I want to get up and tear the wallpaper off the wall-maybe it’s a reaction from the morphine.

My legs are restless from days of inactivity. I throw the knitted white blanket off me, only to be greeted with dark bruises covering my pale legs. I scoot to the end of the bed and roll my legs so they dangle off the edge of the bed, monitor leads tug on my skin. I pull them off and throw them on the floor. The sensations from the bruises to my legs and ribs mask the pain I was just feeling from my broken arm. I stare at the cast on my left arm. It extends from my fingers halfway to my shoulder. I take a few deep breaths and push myself to stand. I hobble over to the large mirror that’s attached to the wall over the sink. At first I am shocked by the person looking back at me; there’s a thick camouflage of bruises covering my face, my eyes, nose, and jaw. There’s the gleam from medical glue on my eyebrow and lip, and a new bump on my nose from where Baillie broke it.

As I stand looking at myself in the mirror, the door to the room opens. I half expect to see Baillie waltz in, but thankfully it is just a Volker guard. He swings the door wide and looks around the room before he notices me standing at the sink. He nods, then closes the door. I stand at the sink for a while, then I pace the room, trying to get the blood flowing in my legs. It’s not long before I’m exhausted and return to the hospital bed. Just as I get myself covered there’s a knock at the door and not a moment after it opens and Morris is escorted into the room.

“Andromeda, you are awake. We’ve been waiting.” Morris walks to the bedside. Usually he greets me kindly in the committee meetings, shaking my hand with a smile that wrinkles all the way to his eyes. This time he greets me with a warm hug and sits close to me on the edge of the hospital bed. I stare at him for a moment, shocked from his emotional greeting, and from remembering that he is responsible for saving my life.

“Thank you, Morris,” I whisper to him. He reaches out and squeezes my hand, just the way my grandfather would do when I was a child.

“How do you feel?”

I shrug. Anyone who looked at me right now could see that I don’t feel well. “Where’s Lina?” I look behind him, hoping that she will walk into the room.

“She has been staying with Ms. Black and the boys. We wanted to bring her here; we thought she might be able to help you.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “We thought she might be able to help you wake up.”

“Why? How long has it been?”

Morris eyes me apprehensively. “Almost a week,” he tells me.

I’m shocked by his revelation. I thought maybe a few days had passed since Morris’ rescue, but not a full week.

“So why didn’t you bring her?” He looks down at our hands and smiles, wrinkling his cheeks all the way to his eyes. He pauses for a while, and I wonder if he’s trying to figure out what to say to me.

“Because of your screams,” He pauses again, letting it soak in. “Even with the sedation, the hospital staff had to move the other patients off the floor. Do you remember dreaming, Andromeda?”

I shake my head no. I remember nothing, just the pain and the numbing morphine.

“It’s ok. You’re safe.” He pats my hand. I’ve heard another person concerned for my safety say something similar. Crane.

“Is Baillie dead this time?”

“Yes. I assure you.”

“And Crane?”

“Andromeda,” he pauses again trying to assemble the words, “Crane has been dealt with.”

“But how did you find me? How did you know where he had taken me?”

“I was assigned to keep a close eye on Crane. The Funding Entities didn’t quite trust him. But they never expected this. That he would do something like this to you. I never expected it either. He’s a brilliant man, Andromeda, but something changed in him when we set foot in Phoenix. The Funding Entities were so impressed with the Japanese District that they didn’t want to risk pulling him out of the organization before the Phoenix District was complete. They’re giving him a second chance. They can’t risk this going wrong. They can’t risk failure. We have no choice, his involvement is imperative.”

“What are you trying to say, Morris?”

“We can’t get rid of Crane just yet. We can only try and control him.”

This time I pause, letting the realization soak in that Crane will be free to continue as he did before, he will barely face any punishment for almost killing me.

“And what happens to me?” I ask. I hope that he will let us go. Send us to a new life beyond the gates, back to the real world. But I know the rules of the District. Crane made sure to beat them into me.

“You will be relocated.”

“Where?”

“Beyond the cement wall to the Pasture, a farm in the northern county where only a few will know of your exact location. It will be heavily guarded, as before, and well hidden.”

“And Lina?”

“She will go with you. We will be relocating the entire Sovereign children’s training program to the farm. The Funding Entities don’t want Crane near the children. They don’t want his negative influences impacting their training.”

“Ian?” I ask, hopeful.

“I am sorry. But we need him at the nuclear power plant. We can’t replace him and his current state remains.”

I want to ask about Adam. But I don’t want Morris to know our relationship may be stronger than just Sovereign committee members. “What about the Committee meetings? Will they continue?”

“Yes.” My stomach drops. I will have to see Crane again. “We will do our best to make sure your participation is only by video conference.” I close my eyes and sigh in relief. “Andromeda?” Morris waits for me to open my eyes. His brown eyes penetrate mine. “You do not realize how important you are, to all of us. This is much bigger than you realize.”

I get the sense he is referring to something more than just the District.

chapter twenty-six

Morris informs me we will be leaving in the morning. I spend the rest of the evening tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable. Morris’ words keep ringing in my ears. Then there is the anticipation of reuniting with Lina in the morning, and getting beyond the cement wall away from Crane, where we will only have the electric fence to worry about.

A nurse brings me a bowl of rice and some pain tablets. I stare at the rice and realize that the reserves of the District must be low if this is all they can give me. I eat the rice and take the medication.  Before long I am fast asleep.

If I dream I don’t remember it and no one wakes me up to relieve me of them. I wake alone just before the sun rises. There is a folded pile of clothes on the chair next to the bed. I get up and try my best to stretch my sore damaged muscles. My next feat is the shower. I hang my cast outside the shower curtain and try to wash myself with my one hand. It’s almost impossible but I leave the shower feeling refreshed. I stare in the mirror. The bruising has lessened to a dull yellow hue. I do my best to dry myself and get dressed. Whoever brought the clothes got them from the loft. I recognize the familiar undergarments, black khaki pants and white blouse. They even brought my favorite leather sandals. But when I pull on my clothes they are at least a size too big. I pull the shirt up and look at my bruised abdomen. For the first time ever I can see a rib bone sticking out at me. I let the shirt fall back into place and run my fingers through my hair, trying to de-tangle it. It has remained uncut for over a year, and my once short hair has now grown down past my shoulder blades. Since I have no hair ties I pull one of the cardiac leads off the floor and rip the ends off it, then use it to twist my hair up in a loose bun.

Just as I finish there is a knock and the door opens.

“Mommy!” Lina bounds into the room, throwing her arms around me. I want to pick her up, but it’s impossible with the cast. Instead I sit on the end of the bed and pull her to me. I hold her for a long time, afraid to let go, afraid that I may never see her again.

The Volker motions for us to go. He escorts us outside of the hospital where there is a caravan of black SUVs waiting. He opens the door to one of the middle vehicles for us to get in. Stevie jumps out, she sniffs and licks at me and then jumps back in, waiting for us to follow her.

The caravan pulls away and heads north on Main Street. I watch out the window at the Residents. Some are working in the yards, sweeping streets, fixing streetlamps, gardening. Everyone is busy working in their assigned faction. Some smile and wave to each other, only one person stops to watch the caravan drive by. Some of them should be off their medications by now and learning how to live in a new society. A group of school children stand at the corner, waiting for their school bus. They wear dark blue uniforms and play games with their hands, chattering at each other. As we drive I realize that Phoenix has turned back into the town I remember as a child, where it was safe to venture out alone, neighbors were neighborly, parents didn’t have to worry about their children’s safety, the homes were neat, and people took pride in their work.

I wonder if maybe the Phoenix District isn’t such a bad place to be confined to. Maybe it would even be safer here than in the outside world, if it weren’t for Crane.

Once the caravan passes the bridge separating the District, it splits up. Our driver pulls onto a side street, making odd turns, sometimes driving in a complete circle. Every few moments I catch another black SUV on a nearby side street, doing similar maneuvers. As the driver continues we get closer to the edge of town, but instead of heading to the north roads he pulls to the eastern roads.

“What are you doing?” I ask the Volker curiously.

“Evasive maneuvers ma’am. Morris wants to make sure we aren’t followed. There will be similar spectacles at all the exits.”

“This is silly,” Lina giggles as she rolls around on the bench seat, responding to the sharp turns taken by the Volker.

Once the cement wall slides open, two vehicles come up beside us, our driver speeds up and they play a game of cat and mouse, swerving between each other, slowing down, speeding up. Then one vehicle stops and drives back to town. This crazy dance we just witnessed was a ploy to distract and confuse anyone who may be following us.

The Volker takes a long, convoluted route along back roads, dirt roads, roads covered in fallen trees, and the fifteen minute drive to the northern part of the District has turned into a forty-five minute drive. Finally we drive up to a heavily wooded area and the Volker starts pulling off the road. It looks like he’s going to drive directly into the trees but then I see a small pebbled driveway, barely the width of the vehicle. Tree branches scrape across the side of the SUV, reaching high into the sky, shading the driveway. As I watch ahead of us, I see that we are coming up behind another black SUV. We follow the other vehicle until it slows and stops and we can hear the dry scraping of stone and the squeal of heavy metal. We start moving again. Looking out the window I see we are driving past a large stone wall covered in dense brush.

Just as I was hoping we would get outside the District walls, I find that we have just been moved to live within another set of them.

We drive past more thick forest before entering a bright clearing.

“Look, Mom.” Lina points out the window.

There are large pastures with cows, horses, alpacas and goats on one side of the driveway. We look out the other window and see large fields with freshly planted seedlings. Three large dogs run beside the SUV’s, their heads reaching as high as the vehicle’s windows. Chickens and geese swerve out of the road as the rubber tires of the SUV crunch down the stone driveway. Finally we come to a cluster of buildings and the SUVs stop. A Volker opens our door and waits for us to get out. We topple out in awe, looking at the spectacle before us.

“Welcome to the Pasture,” the Volker greets us with a light Australian accent, shaking our hands. “My name is Elvis. I’ll be staying here with you all.”

On a normal day, almost two years ago, I would have joked with this man about his name. I would have made references to Elvis not really being dead. But today, after all I’ve been through, I can’t even muster the energy to smirk when he tells us his name.

Behind him I see the three large dogs, the size of horses, walking up to inspect us. It’s a breed I’ve never seen before. They look like mythological creatures, much larger than Great Dane’s, with thick long hair rolled into dreadlocks. I grab Stevie’s collar as she jumps out of the SUV, afraid that they might attack her.

“It’s ok. They’re familiar with your dog’s scent-yours too, actually, everyone who has just arrived.” I apprehensively release Stevie to see her bound at the dogs. They sniff each other in circles and bark playfully. Stevie runs back to us with the large dogs following her. “Meet the Guardians.” Elvis holds his hand out and all three of the dogs sit as he pats their massive heads. “There’s more all over the farm, we have about twenty of them right now. Think of them as your protectors.”

I watch the large animals as they sit, looking not at us, but around us, behind us, inspecting the yard, the pastures, the fields.  It’s no wonder they are called guardians.

--

The buildings are a mixture of barns, garages and houses, all built in a circle with open grass in the middle littered with yard toys, picnic tables and a small inflatable pool. The buildings look old, but functional, with large sturdy front porches, complete with rocking chairs.

“What is this place?” I ask Elvis.

“It’s always been here. Hidden in the forest. We were able to salvage most of the buildings with minimal work. You know how that old carpentry is, it could survive hundreds of years.”

Elvis walks us to one of the houses. They are all white, with the simple construction of era’s ago, and when we step up onto the porch, the old wood doesn’t even creak under the pressure of our footsteps. We follow him inside and I am surprised that the interior is simple and clean with hardwood floors and milky white walls. We wander around, inspecting the kitchen and bedrooms, the living room. It’s when we get to the office space I stop in disappointment. Of all that I was trying to escape in the District, it is clear my work will not be finished any time soon. Sitting in the middle of the office is my large wooden desk and computer from the lab.

chapter twenty-seven

Again, our lives have changed. The grounds of the Pasture are beautiful, an outpouring of nature at its finest, and for the first time in over a year, Lina and I are able to explore as we please. Ms. Black sets up a classroom in one of the small houses. Elvis helps her break down a wall, creating a large open space for the children to learn. We salvage tables and chairs from the barns and sheds then sand them down and repaint them.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to do much with the cast on my arm. When the work gets too hard for my broken arm and ribs to handle, I leave to explore the grounds or rearrange our new house. Once again workers from the District packed up our things and moved them. But this time they only sent the necessities; simple clothes, a few personal items. Thankfully they brought Lina’s beloved stuffed owl.

The Funding Entities, whoever they are, have stripped us of any luxuries. They want the children to grow and learn in a simplified manner without fancy clothes or expensive toys. They hope that it will help the children focus on human interaction and develop a new understanding of life where we are self-sufficient, and the little things are what matter most. To Lina this will mean no fancy birthday parties and rooms filled with presents on the holidays. But I think she will adjust fine. Especially after walking into one of the houses and finding it filled floor to ceiling with books and hearing Lina exclaim that it was “the best house ever.”

Elvis is the sole Volker on the property. He seems at ease here, already tanned and rugged, a true outdoorsman running the farm, working with the Guardians and Stevie. More than once he has brought a deer or other game back in the afternoon, then cleaned it and cooked it for dinner. On nice evenings we collect around the picnic tables, eating dinner together as one big happy family.

Well, everyone else is happy. I do my best to smile and interact, trying not to let them see what Crane did to me. I cover up the bruises and cuts with makeup, scarves, long sleeves and pants-most of the time I'm boiling in the sun. Thankfully the woods and fields I walk during the day are much cooler from the nearby lake breeze.

Now I have nothing left to do but wait. Wait for my wounds to heal, for Ian to wake up, for Adam to return from outside the gates and find us. I hope he will find us. And then we wait for the next generation to be born.

One day, while Lina is in class, I walk through the open field behind the circle of houses and I get the sense that I am being followed. There is the soft hush of footsteps on the dried field grass, stopping each time I stop. The first time I turn around I see nothing, just the empty field and houses off in the distance. The second time I turn, I make sure to continue walking, and as I walk backwards I see the large Guardians following me silently; stopping when I stop, hiding in conspicuous spots, behind a small bush, crouching in the tall grass. There are even more at the forest edge, stopping behind trees, but their eyes are always watching. They follow me to the tall water tower at the far edge of the property. I stop at the bottom and look up. There’s a ladder and an enclosed walking platform circling the highest part of the water tower. I reach out and grasp the warm, metal ladder, shaking it a few times. It doesn’t give, it doesn’t even wiggle. I want to climb it badly, to see how far I can see, to see if the view reaches beyond the fence or further. I lift my broken arm and try to wrap my fingers around one of the rungs but a sharp pain shoots up the broken arm, forcing me to let go immediately. Bringing my arm back to my chest, I squeeze my shoulder hoping that the pain will stop.

A few of the Guardians walk closer to me, closer than they have ever been. I could reach out and touch them, but their large size still frightens me. I look at their eyes to see what they are looking at. Instead of looking behind me or to the sides as they usually do, they all look up, straight into the sky. I follow their gaze but all I see is the light blue afternoon sky-there is not even a cloud present. One of the Guardians bark, which I have never heard before. It’s loud and deep, reminding me more of a lion roar than a dog barking. More of the dogs start exiting the woods. Then there’s another bark off in the distance, where the houses are. Some come to where I am standing near the ladder and the others gallop back to the circle of houses, where Ms. Black and the children are. I look around the property and back to the sky but see nothing.

Then, ever so faintly I hear a deep rumble far off in the distance. At first I think it is thunder, that there is a storm coming. But it gets louder and faster, reminding me of a jet passing overhead. There are more of the same sounds, but at different distances, further away and some closer, like a hundred jet engines are flying over us and around us. But as I watch the sky I see nothing.

Suddenly the sky is no longer rumbling, but the ground is. First it’s mild, and I think I’m experiencing a bout of dizziness, but the ground shakes harder and deeper. And I know what I am feeling, because it wasn’t that long ago when I experienced the same sensation in another life, in my old life, at the hospital.

Earthquakes.

But now I know that these are not earthquakes. I know what they truly are, I’ve seen their damage. They broke my town, my family, my body. Those are missiles flying through the sky.

epilogue

Adam

The train whistle is loud, monotonous, lasting entirely too long. I hate that it’s programmed to go off every twenty minutes. It keeps waking me up, interrupting my thoughts. Not only is the noise preposterous, but the single bench is uncomfortable. It’s unpadded, raw metal, too hard to sit on let alone sleep on. There’s absolutely nothing to do in the dark metallic cabin of this train. I almost wish it was a coal engine so I could pass the time shoveling coal into the burners. Instead I sit here, staring out the window.

There isn't much else to do on these long rides south to collect supplies and rendezvous with the Funding Entities. It’s no wonder Remington turned to booze and women when he was out running for the District. And night is even worse. Mostly I wind up laying on the uncomfortable bench or the floor, thinking, tossing and turning. The metal chain wrapped around my bicep doesn’t help matters, most of the time it itches and cuts into the skin. I keep touching the locket, afraid that I might feel the potassium dose dripping out of it, which would truly be the end of my mission, because if Crane wanted me dead, getting back through those gates would be one of the hardest tasks of my life.

He must be using pure electrical energy straight from the nuclear power plant to electrify the fence. I didn’t tell Andie, but that recruit’s body was so charred it was almost nonexistent. At first we thought it was a burned tree. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. It hums louder than any electric fence I’ve ever heard, so loud that there isn’t an animal or a bug within a mile of it and the plants actually look like they are stretching away, trying to grow back into the forest.

The train brings me through downstate New York, to Pennsylvania and beyond, all the way to North Carolina, so I can collect our supplies. So far it has been stocked with rice and oats, canned foods, fresh vegetables, everything on the District list I was given before leaving. All I have left to do is leave the packet for delivery to the Funding Entities. This time the designated drop zone is a post office in Raleigh, North Carolina, which is perfect because my government contact can meet me there. Crane provided me with a map and a thick pre-sealed package, addressed to a mailbox in Sweden. I’ve tried to open the packages, but they’re expertly sealed, with some kind of a metallic lining and wires in the glue which seals the flap. I have no idea what’s inside and nothing left to go on besides their weight, thickness and address for delivery.

I stand and watch the stars in the dark night sky, knowing I have to get back fast. I can’t believe Crane found them, hiding on the train. I thought for sure I was a dead man. But Andie saved me from Crane’s wrath. I just worry about what he did to her and Lina.

I keep trying to bring my thoughts somewhere else, to focus on the job at hand, but I can’t. I can’t deny the fact that I’ve screwed up royally. Broken the basic rules of training, what was pounded into my head from day one. You don't get involved. You don't have relations, especially not with married women, especially not with the one Crane wants for himself. And you don't cross Crane, ever.

Barely anyone in the U.S. knows him but he’s globally renowned as one of the world’s richest men, making his trillions in genetic research, and getting involved in controversial experiments. First it started with stem cells and his research progressed from animals to humans. He kept his work away from U.N. sanctions by purchasing his own island, constructing his own buildings for the experiments, employing his own people, swearing them to secrecy. He made the transition from researching to cure illnesses to much darker topics, and this is why the strongest countries left him alone, because they fear him. He has a lot of dirt on a lot of powerful people.

Celebrities and royalty started soliciting him to select how they wanted their children to look and behave. It made him billions of dollars richer. He was the world’s best kept secret. And once he had them all in his pocket; kings, queens, presidents, dictators, even our own president, they cleared the way for him to go further. He started in Japan and now here in the U.S., in Phoenix of all places, my hometown. Genetic engineering. Selective population control. Selective breeding. He tells them he is working towards a better society. For mankind. To preserve our earth which we know is already in ruins from the burning of fossil fuels, mining, and overpopulation.

The President of the United States came to me asking for help. He wants to know who is helping Crane, the "Funding Entities." And it’s not that President Berkley seems worried about what Crane is doing, he just wants to know who else is involved. They came to me after the Middle East. They thought I was the perfect choice, being that my entire family was wiped out in that car accident. And then there’s my training and the expertise in intelligence.

What I wasn’t prepared for was Andie. She doesn't know how bad Crane actually is. She has no clue what he has done, or what he is capable of. He could have anyone in the entire world but for some reason he is drawn to her, probably for the same reasons I am and that her husband is. But she is in danger. I brought her into this situation and now I have to help her get out of it. I can't let her know how dangerous Crane really is or what is really going on. She’s too stubborn. She would be the one to confront him, demanding answers and blowing my cover. She’s an irresistible mixture of brains, tenacity, and awkwardness, and it’s driving me crazy. I can't stop thinking about her. And I'm not sure how it happened because she’s not my type at all, but there’s just something about her. She makes it so hard to focus whenever we are in the same room. She clouds my mind, makes things fuzzy, she always has. Even on that first day, when she confronted those gang members and bartered for our lives with a box of baby formula, all without even knowing who I was.

When Crane made me Sovereign I didn't know if I could continue the mission. Being in the committee room with her across the table from me, I could barely function. Just watching her, with those penetrating green eyes, I thought for sure I would lose it. Each time I told myself to stop, to stay away, I know we both did, for months, all through the holiday season. Then I found myself getting closer. When she came to me that night, after Ian's baby was delivered, I couldn’t resist her, I couldn’t ignore her one second longer. Now, after telling her that this was all planned, that my mission was to find her and bring her back, to walk her straight into her own living hell, I’m pretty sure I may have lost her for good and I know the only reason she didn’t slap me and run off on her own was because I was holding Lina. I know there’s only one thing I can do to win her back, to make her forgive me. I have to find her brother, Sam, and bring him back to her. I can’t let Crane take any more from her.

According to my contacts in the CIA, things are about to get bad. The U.S. government is on red alert, preparing for an attack of some kind. Most think it is terrorists planning an attack similar to 9/11, others think it’s that political group, the Reformation, which has been quickly gaining members and planning to overthrow the election at the end of the year.

But I have the unsettling feeling that it has something to do with Crane. He’s planning something from within the safety of his freshly built walls, in his new utopia, the Phoenix District.

The Phoenix Project Book II

The Reformation

Prologue

Adam

I wait in line for my turn at the mail drop. There’s an old lady in front of me, her hair in curlers. She shuffles forward. I look down and see she’s wearing slippers and what could be pajama pants underneath her wool pea coat. Her back is coated in hair. Cat hair. I wait as she shuffles forward, allowing her to put more distance between us. The fat man behind me taps his foot and sighs, his breath blows on the back of my neck. He smells like fried food and stale cigarettes. I glance to my left noting the man at the post office boxes, a woman writing out envelopes at one of the tall counters. There is another line of people to my right, ten people, waiting to pay to ship their packages. None of them are who I’m looking for.

The old lady shuffles forward. I take one step. The fat man takes two, his gut practically pressing into my back. I control the urge to tell him to get off my fucking back. I can’t risk bringing attention to myself.

The old lady is gone, it’s my turn. I drop the thick packet into the international mailbox. Now the waiting game begins. Sitting on benches, leaning on walls, searching for my CIA contact. Black coat, eagle pin. They’re usually easy to identify.

I watch the people mill about. It’s loud. At least half of the people in here are having conversations on their cell phones. Two of them are women; yelling into their phones, dragging their children behind them. The city bus pulls up. I can see it’s been tagged with spray paint. A line of people get off the bus. I look at my watch. He should have been here by now.

A rusted van pulls up to the dumpsters across the street. There’s music blaring, a deep bass that vibrates the windows of the Raleigh Post Office. The back doors open, bags are thrown out, a chair, two lamps. The van starts driving away, the back doors still open, leaving a trail of garbage bags down the street. And then it’s like ants at a picnic. The homeless appear out of thin air, searching through the bags, tasting things, shoving garbage in their pockets. I didn’t think it could get any worse since the last time I was out of the District. I was wrong.

“What time is it?”

I look to my left and find the Fat Man has returned. He stares at me, expectantly.

“What?” I ask him.

“What time is it?”

I look at my watch, again. “Five-thirty,” I tell him. He stares at me. The rolls of his neck seem to rise and fall separately from his chest. “It’s five-thirty,” I repeat.

“That’s a nice watch,” he tells me.

I shift my gaze to the door as someone else enters the building. Not the contact. Fat Man stares at me.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“You’re on my turf.”

“This is a post office, it’s public property.”

“It’s my turf.”

“You work here then?”

“They don’t pay me.”

He pulls a cigarette box out of his pocket, and tapping it in his hand he pulls out a smoking stick and places it between his greasy lips. I catch the whiff of grease permeating off him. I can only assume he picks pockets and robs cars.

“You goin’ to stay here.” He places the cigarette between his lips again. “You goin’ pay up. Give me the watch.”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

The Fat Man glares at me. This wouldn’t be tolerated in the District. Maybe that’s the one good thing about it. The Residents would never pull this shit. They all have jobs, none of them have time to loiter and loot. The Fat Man continues to glare - he thinks I might actually comply. I’d like to kick his ass. “In all seriousness, get the fuck away from me before I break your face.”

The Fat Man leaves, but his stench lingers. I move to the other side of the room and sit near the mail boxes. I pretend to read a pamphlet on shipping care packages to the troops. The pamphlet is a waste of money, complete bullshit. No one sends care packages anymore, no one cares, no one has the money to send anything.

After a few minutes I move to the far wall, leaning against a row of mailboxes. I wait. No one shows. This is unlike them. The President stressed how important this was, something must have happened. What could possibly be more important than getting an update on the Phoenix District?

I wait until dusk to leave. I walk to the train that’s hidden at the outskirts of the city. It’s ten blocks away, off a dead-end street, down an embankment, about a mile into the forest. The location is secluded, perfectly concealed by the dense southern foliage.

I have to wait until night to run the train. Those are the rules. Crane’s rules. And if I am to remain the District Runner, being the only one who is allowed outside the fence, I have to do what Crane says. So I sit on the steps leading into the engine car, trying to think of my next move.

I need to pass on what I’ve learned. For the past year I’ve been responsible for running the Volker faction, the sole policing force of the Phoenix District. Lucky for me, Crane found out I had military experience and I was willing to cooperate with his plans. That kept me off the medication, which kept me with a clear mind. Promotion to Sovereign was easy. There was no one else with my qualifications. Well, there was one person, he’s dead now. I thought getting Crane to trust me and figuring out his plans for Phoenix and the residents would be the hard part, but it wasn’t. It all seems a little too easy, how it all flowed together. The setup, assigning the leaders, initiating their outline from Japan. They were organized, perfect. It still amazes me.

There was only one hard part. Staying away from Andie.

I hear the crisp snap of a dried stick. It causes the birds chattering in the trees to go silent. Someone’s out there. I reach behind me, pulling my pistol from underneath the train car bench. There are more snaps, rustling, and then a soft thudding sound. I must not have been discreet enough when I came back here. The rustling gets closer. I click a bullet into the chamber of the pistol then leave the train car and walk around the side of it, preparing to defend myself. I make it to the far side of the engine car just in time to see someone stumble out of the brush, tripping over the train tracks and falling on the ground.

“Who are you?” I demand, raising the pistol to his face.

“Wait, wait.” he raises his hand, shielding himself. It’s then I notice his palm is covered in blood, his white shirt saturated. “You’re Waters, right?”

“Answer the question.” Just then the last of the evening sun glints off an eagle, pinned to his shirt collar. The contact. “What happened?”

“They found me. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t even think this was on their radar.”

“Who found you?” I ask as I reach out, helping him up off the ground. I’ve found it’s easier to get pertinent information out of a person on the run when the questions are simple, short, and to the point. I can tell he’s already losing focus.

The commotion of the forest around us ceases completely. The now-silent birds rise into the sky in large blooms further darkening the evening sky. There’s a deep rumble coming from off in the distance. I turn to the side, focusing on the sound as it gets closer, letting it bounce off my eardrum. I’ve heard this before, during training, and my time in Iraq. It’s the unmistakable sound of missiles flying through the air about to make impact.

“It’s starting. I thought we had more time.” The contact coughs into his hand, leaving splatters of blood on his palm.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the shit is about to hit the fan!” He coughs, harder this time. The blood stain on his shirt grows larger. “We need to get out of here. It’s too populated.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you know. It’s bad enough you compromised my mission.”

“We don’t have time. It’s starting.” He continues, but I can barely hear him. The missiles flying through the sky are going to make impact soon. I look up to see white trails streaking through the hazy sky. A herd of deer run by us, thundering across the tracks in front of the train. The ground rumbles. I leave the contact and run into the engine car, punching in the code in to start the engine. As it rumbles to life, I click the safety on the pistol, tucking it into the back of my pants. That’s when I notice the contact has rounded to the door of the engine car.

“Who shot you?” I stand in front of the steps, blocking his path.

“It’s the Reformation.”

“The Political Party?”

Last I read they were plotting to overthrow the election this fall, forcing out the popular political parties who have run this country into the ground over the past sixty years. The United States has been floundering in a nasty recession, the worst since the Great Depression. That was evident from what I just saw at the post office. It’s not getting any better.

“They’re not a political party. That was nothing but a veil to hide their true agenda. This stems much deeper than we had originally thought. They weren’t planning on overthrowing the election. They’re overthrowing the United States.” He coughs, spewing blood out of his mouth onto the side of the train. “It’s the great American conspiracy. The President is involved, Congress, there’s someone in every county. I just haven’t figured out who is organizing it all. Someone is hell bent on starting the human race over and they’ve found the means to do it.” He looks to the sky and for an instant it seems he may be praying, but he’s just watching the missiles as they whistle overhead. Strange words mumbling off his lips. Blood-loss words. “We have to get out of here. It’s only going to get worse. The Districts are the only safe havens for those who were lucky enough to be chosen.”

The ground shakes harder. The missiles must be hitting closer to the city. The vibrations rock the train car, sending the Contact falling to the ground. I reach down and pull him up the steps by his arm, letting his weak body flop onto the floor of the engine car. I can already see plumes of smoke rising over the treetops, and the air is starting to smell like acrid smoke and sulfur. These are not the electro-magnetic pulse missiles that were used nearly two years ago. These are true missiles, meant to cause as much destruction as possible.

I throw the train into gear, taking no precaution against damaging the supplies I’ve collected for the District. The bins of grains and flour should remain intact. It’s the gasoline which makes me rethink throwing the train straight into high gear, the possibility of it sloshing out of the barrels or rolling over. Damaging the supplies could result in my position of District Runner being revoked, and then I’d truly have no way to communicate with my government contacts or with the outside world.

The train rolls, jerky and slow at first, but picking up speed in no time. Crane did a magnificent job rebuilding all the abandoned train tracks, making the travel in and out of the District discreet. I just hope they remain intact through the bombings, long enough for me to make it back. Because right now, I’m almost seven hundred miles away. I have to find Sam and Andie and get these supplies back to the District.

“How do you know about the District?” I ask.

“Districts,” He corrects me while wiping at the blood that drips from his nose.

“There’s one,” I correct him.

He shakes his head at me. “I’ve found three.”

Three. They’ve never told me there was more than Phoenix. “How did you find them?”

“It took a lot of digging. The year after the Phoenix quakes there were more, one in Florida and one in Arizona. At first everyone thought it was some strange seismic activity from drilling for oil or hydrofracking for natural gas. I’ve been reviewing the papers, the stories, firsthand accounts of the quakes, and everything started to come together. I’m surprised no one noticed it before. All the epicenters were within ten miles of a nuclear power plant. The nearby towns were considered total losses from the nuclear meltdowns, barricades went up, and travel restrictions were enacted. People moved away and tried to forget. No one wants to deal with radioactivity.”

What he’s telling me makes sense. It’s exactly what happened to Phoenix.

He continues, “It just didn’t make sense to me, three meltdowns in the U.S. within two years. Then I realized what they were doing, they pushed people away into heavily populated areas. Are you getting this, Waters? It was an elaborate plan. So the second bombings would wipe them all out in one fell swoop.” The contact lies his head down on the hard floor of the engine car taking a few shallow breaths. I watch a small puddle of blood start to collect underneath his side. Now my heart is pumping. The adrenaline is pulsing through my veins at breakneck speed. Before the creation of the Phoenix District, this was a game for me. A tangled mess to figure out, to unravel. There was always the option of escape for me, for Andie and Lina. But now that’s changed.

The contact starts coughing up more blood and holding the wound on his abdomen. I’ve seen plenty of men die from gunshot wounds, it happened all too often in Iraq. It’s evident that he isn’t going to last much longer.

As I pull away from Raleigh, I look out the front window of the car to see numerous white trailing clouds leading in every direction. I look back to the man on the floor. He’s right. There must be hundreds of missiles.

I was warned by the District engineer that running the train in high gear for an extended amount of time could permanently damage the engine. But right now, I don’t care. Crane can have my head for ruining the train. From what I can see, there won’t be any place to collect supplies from once the bombings are done. The maximum speed of the train is over 150 miles per hour. I leave it in high gear.

The tracks head northeast, towards the seclusion of the Appalachian Mountains. It only takes an hour to make it out of North Carolina and once we’re riding along the raised mountains the damage is clear. In the light of the full moon, thick smoke rises into the sky. In all directions the destruction is evident but the tracks remain clear, untouched. When the smoke is thick enough to fully block the moonlight, I can no longer see the devastation, but I know it’s there. I’m almost afraid of what the morning light will bring.

We travel all night through Virginia, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, until we finally reach New York. I never stop the train. Not once. And as the sun rises I feel like I’m back at war in the Middle East. Instead, this time the landscape is familiar, cool and green, not hot and gritty with sand.

The night hid the damage well.

Once the train gets to the suburb south of Phoenix I’ll stop. That’s where Andie’s brother Sam lives. If there is any way to get Andie to forgive me, rescuing her brother will do it. I feel like shit for finally telling her what I was doing in Phoenix, that part of my mission was to find her and bring her back to Phoenix, that Crane requested her for his project. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on her face or the fury in her green flecked eyes. The control it took for her not to reach out and slap me for what I had put her through at the hands of Burton Crane.

I watch out the window, waiting for the right time to slow the train, the landmarks becoming familiar from my few trips outside of the fence. Once I pass the Finger Lakes region I know I’m close. I pull down on the throttle, dropping the train into low gear, slowing it. The tracks swoop around a small lake, near an old abandoned canal, then chugs up a large hill. From this elevation I can see the destruction of the city Andie and I fled so long ago. The hospital is demolished and the highway no longer stretches over the city but lies on it in a crumbled, dead mess.

The man on the floor of the car groans. I was starting to think he had died during the night. I feel a small tinge of guilt for not asking his name, but names mean nothing now. I can’t help him.

“Do you smell that?” he asks, his voice weak and dry. “Do you?”

All I can smell is burning rubble, burning earth, and flesh, the blood dripping out of this man. It’s enough to make me gag. “Yeah,” I respond to him. “I smell it.”

“That’s the smell of a new beginning my friend. Remember it.” And then he is gone, pale and dead.

I reach down, checking his pulse. There is no steady heartbeat, only the sensation of cooling skin, a still body. Not a muscle moves in him. I search his pockets for anything I might be able to use. There’s a package of gum, a small pistol and a cell phone. I take the pistol and the phone, leaving the gum, his only token to pass on into the underworld. I roll his body out the side of the train car, watching it bounce away from the tracks and into the forest.

In less than twenty-four hours, the United States is in ruins. Now I have a change of plans. I have to find Sam. I’m hoping he’s still alive.

I open the phone and press the icon for the internet search engine. Somehow it still works. The phone must be connected to a secure tower, one that hasn’t been damaged yet. I type in Sam Salk, hoping that a white pages site will have his information. When the page loads, there it is. “Jackpot,” as Andie would say, his phone number and address appear on the screen.

--

I leave the train a few miles from the main highway. I take the guns and throw a handful of dried leaves over the pool of blood on the floor of the train car. Then I run. I haven’t heard any missiles hit since I made it to New York. All the damage must have been planned for the night when it was least expected, when people had the least probability of survival. Once I reach the suburb I can see the damage is bad. Stores, houses, cars, everything is in ruins and smoking. There are body parts, damaged cars, TV’s, soot covered dogs, broken children’s toys. I run around patches of crumbled pavement and gaping holes in the ground. They emit an eerie smoke in the bright morning light.

I notice a few survivors wandering, collecting, searching, still in shock, not sure of what to do. They look like zombies. Their clothes tattered, blood smeared on their skin. It’s the tears in their eyes that remind me they’re still human.

I ignore them. I can’t help them. I have a mission. I run for miles until I see the sign for Sam’s apartment complex. I slow down, taking in the crumpled mess in front of me. There’s only one building left standing, and when I get closer I see its number twenty. I walk until I come upon the jumble that must be number twenty three. Sam’s place. Shit. I kick at the rubble, searching for any signs of life, but there’s nothing. I reach down, pulling up long pieces of busted wood and burnt clothes. Something sharp stabs me in the hand. I pull away a piece of drywall to find a shattered frame, a picture of Andie with her arm around a tall guy. At first it makes me angry, then jealous. She’s mine, or she was mine. As I stare at the picture I come to realize it’s her brother in the picture.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Someone calls from behind me. When I turn around I’m surprised to be looking at the guy from the photo in my hand.

The first thing I notice: he’s armed. The second: Andie's brother is a beast. He’s the complete opposite of her, tall and muscled. He must be at least 3 inches taller than me and probably outweighs me by 50 pounds. I was hoping to just drag him back to the Phoenix District but that’s no longer an option. I get the impression he’s not going willingly. I can see it in his eyes that he trusts no one. He’s suspicious. And there’s something else, he carries that deep sadness from losing everyone so close at such a young age.

He’s wearing a uniform, National Guard, and his eyes have the blue hue underneath them just like Andie’s when she’s been up all night.

“Sam?” I know it’s him and I assume he survived the missile drop because he was up all night patrolling the roads that lead to the Phoenix District. That’s how he escaped his own death.

“Who are you?” he asks. “What are you doing?” He walks into the rubble and reaches towards me, ripping the picture out of my hand.

“Colonel Waters. I have some information for you,” I tell him.

“That’s bullshit. Get out of here.” He reaches for the pistol at his hip.

I know what he’s been through. Up all night, witnessing the bombings with no way to intervene or help.

“Sam, we need to talk. I know your sister, Andromeda, and your niece, Catalina. I need you to come with me.”

I cross my arms, waiting for his response. He stares, sizing me up, his hand hovering over the pistol. I’m sure he can see that I have two of my own.

“I’ve been searching for them since the earthquakes. Found nothing. I was told they’re dead.” He looks at the photo in his hand. The last photo he has of his presumed dead sister. He twists the frame, breaking it, and pulls the picture out.

“They are very much alive. If you want to see them again I need you to come with me.”

“Where are they?” He scowls at me, looking for any indication that I might actually be a Colonel.

“In Phoenix,” I respond.

“There’s nothing left of that town. Didn’t you hear there was a nuclear meltdown after the earthquakes?” He folds the picture and tucks it into his shirt.

“Lies, Sam. The town is there, the people are as well.”

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? Why should I trust you?”

“Because your sister once did.”

I can see it in his eyes. The hope that they are still alive, that maybe he isn’t all alone in this world. It’s the same look I had when I returned from Germany, right before I found my family’s gravestones.

He eyes the photo again, rubbing the dust off from it. “You had better be telling me the truth.” He replies through clenched teeth, pointing his finger at my chest.

“You can trust me, Sam.” There are plenty of people I’m going to lie to, but not one of Andie’s family members, never again. “We need to go now.” Somehow, it was that easy. But I know him. I was him. I know that all you need is a tiny bit of hope that your family might be alive. That hope is a motivator. We run back through the rubble to where I stashed the train. We wait until nightfall. I’m back to following Crane’s orders.

There are no more missiles hitting their targets. But the sound of gunshots and screams coming from the nearby suburbs are unnerving. I fill Sam in on the Phoenix District, on everything that has happened. What Crane has assigned Andie to do: help him genetically engineer humans. Humans that will be completely cooperative and docile living under the guidelines of the Phoenix District.

At first he watches me, barely believing the story of the society Crane has created. I tell him there are Residents, medicated and malleable, assigned into factions, helping run the town. I tell him how the electrified fence keeps everyone inside. I tell him that the Volker enforce the policies put forth by the Sovereign, those who were chosen to make decisions for the Residents. I explain my job. I think about giving him the choice to leave. But I can tell from the intensity in his eyes he wouldn't. This is his last chance to find what remains of his family.

When the sun is gone from the sky, I bring Sam up to speed on my plan to sneak him in. I hide him in the last train car behind the barrels of rice and oats. I start the train, giving it a chance to warm up this time. I push it into low gear. It only takes thirty minutes to get back to the fence, and I am relieved that the code Crane assigned to me for opening the electrified fence still works.

The Volker monitoring the Gateway salute me as I pass, expecting my arrival. Their Colonel has returned. If only they knew the things I’ve been involved in. I park the train at the station. Before checking the supplies in, I get Sam and lead him into the woods near the well worn trail that leads back to my vehicle. I tell him to wait.

The walk through the forest and drive through town is uneventful. No one suspects a thing and the streets are clear from the mandatory curfew. I drive to the state college and park near the campus biology building, and then sneak Sam through the tunnel Andie showed me. As soon as we exit the stairwell it's obvious something isn't right. The door to Andie’s loft is wide open, cupboards and drawers are swinging open, blankets and pillows are strewn across the floor.

Oh shit, they’re gone. What did Crane do to them?

"I thought they were supposed to be here," Sam asks, annoyed.

"They were but I've been gone for weeks. The last time I was here Crane caught her trying to escape. I didn’t think he would do anything to her. She’s too important to him, to his plan. Then I was sent to gather supplies and food for the Residents."

Sam steps into the living space to survey the damage, bending down to pick something up off the floor. "You never told me that." I look to what he holds in his hand, a small doll. One of Lina’s toys.

"I'm still pissed that she got caught." I try not to let him see it, the anger in my eyes, the regret that I should have done something. I could have done something to protect them before I left. After all, that is my purpose, protect the Sovereign.

“Now what?” Sam asks.

“Now I take you to Crane. You’re officially the first Survivor to pass through the gates of the Phoenix District. It helps that you’re Andie’s brother. Still, you need to prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

“For life inside these walls,” I respond. “Welcome to the Phoenix District.”

Part I

Pastures are for sheep

CHAPTER one

Andromeda

I reach out with my good hand and shake the metal ladder of the water tower. One of the Guardians bark from behind me. I know it’s a warning not to climb, but I don’t care. I have to see it. I have to see what’s happening out there. I have to see where those missiles are headed, how close to us they’ve hit. I use my good arm, the unbroken one, pulling myself up onto the ladder. The chipped paint stabs into my palm. I wrap my cast-arm around the back of the ladder, steadying myself, ignoring the dull throb coming from inside the cast. I take a deep breath, ignoring the ache across my side. Each pull to the next rung, each leg raise brings searing pain from my broken arm, my broken ribs, and the bruised muscles all over my body. The rumbling ground shakes the ladder. The water tower lets off a deep, rusted groan. Another warning. It doesn’t stop me. I keep climbing, the tower creaking in unison with each tinge of discomfort coming from my body. It feels like it takes forever until I finally reach the top. I step up onto the walking platform that surrounds the large metal creation.

I can’t see the forty miles to the city where I once worked. The city I travelled to each night. The city I fled only to find my family torn apart, my life forever changed. I can’t see the city, but the rising plumes of smoke are easy to see from this distance.

More bombs make impact, the water tower sways, and another Guardian barks, ordering me to get down. I ignore it. I am too mesmerized by the shaking ground, the thundering coming from the heavens, the hundreds of white trails scarring the blue sky. They are missiles flying through the sky, marring the placid blueness on their way to their final destination.

I can see now, quite clearly, that Crane and the Funding Entities planned to take over more than just our town. This is a do-over, a mulligan, an overhaul. They are bringing our once-proud country to its knees. Dispersed between all of his lies, Crane was telling me the truth. He was able to spurt out the tiniest bit of fact. This does run much deeper than us, deeper than Phoenix, deeper than my family. I can see it now, as clear as day, as clear as I see the smoke rising in the distance. They are taking over the United States.

As I stand here watching and holding my throbbing, broken arm close to my chest, a few things start to make sense to me. Of all the time I spent trying to escape this place, trying to escape these people who have taken over my life, I realize we are safe here. For the first time inside the Phoenix District I am safe. Lina is safe. Even Ian is safe, wherever they are keeping him.

We may be safe here, but Adam is still out there. And so is Sam, my brother, the last of my family. They are somewhere beyond those pillars of smoke. Beyond our guarded walls and electrified fence. They are scattered in the midst of the destruction I am witnessing. And all I can do is hope that they will survive.

Perhaps the thought of our safety should help me feel a bit better. It should help me heal a little. Loosen this tightness in my chest that keeps me wandering the grounds of the Pasture each day. As much as I want to I can’t allow it. I won’t allow it. Not yet. Hidden in all that tightness are the nightmares, the memories, the fears. It’s everything that I was, that I’ve lost, that’s been ruined. I thought I wanted to see this. But watching doesn’t help one bit. It does nothing but cause my chest to squeeze harder, making it difficult to breathe.

I turn away from the smoking towers, looking towards the cluster of old houses where we currently live. At first I thought it was just another enclosure for Crane to keep me in until he decided what to do with me next. But it has become our safe haven, our sanctuary, our refuge. There is peace here. I just wish I could feel it inside of me.

No one is outside, near the houses. They must not be able to hear it or see it. I know the missiles aren’t going to stop anytime soon. The water tower sways, groaning as it does. Now, I have two Guardians barking at me. I rub the palm of my good hand on my pants trying to get the sweat off. The last thing I want to do is slip and fall from this height. I would most certainly break my neck, and I don’t think my body could handle many more bruises or broken bones. Baillie delivered enough of those to last a lifetime.

I position myself on the rusted ladder and begin my slow climb down. By the time I reach the last rungs the Guardians are scolding me with their incessant barking. It’s only when both my feet are on the ground that they stop.

I leave the water tower and walking back to the houses, I am escorted by my companions, the large Guardian dogs. I get the feeling that whatever breed they are, it is not one created by nature. They are always watching, reacting in the quietest of ways, our own Volker in canine form. The others barely notice when they are nearby. But for me, the Guardians tend to make sure I know that they are watching me. Such as now, as I wander through the dry field, the Guardians walk close to me. So close that their heavy, dreadlocked hair slaps against my legs. It’s easy to see that they no longer trust me-if they even trusted me in the first place-because they are escorting me back.

--

The children and Ms. Black remain in the classroom. Stevie stands at the window, her wet nose pressed to the glass as a trail of dog snot trickles to the window casing. I see Elvis walk out of the barn, headed towards me. From here I can barely feel the shaking of the earth. The dense forests that hide us from the rest of the world must be absorbing the shockwaves. And the houses must be just far enough away to escape the rumbling.

“What did you do, Andie?” Elvis asks as he gets closer to me. He’s not intimidating in the way he asks, just concerned, which is the look I have gotten from him since the day I showed up.

“What makes you think I did something?” I respond flatly.

“I heard the Guardians barking. They never bark.”

“I climbed the water tower,” I tell him. Elvis erupts into a hearty laughter. I don’t think I’ve seen him laugh so hard since we got here just over a week ago. “Don’t you feel it?” I ask him. “The ground is shaking.” He gives me an odd look, one that tells me he doesn’t believe me. “There are bombings.” I point in the direction of the water tower. Elvis gives me one last look before he leaves to investigate.

From this angle, being on the ground instead of high above it on the water tower, I can see nothing in the sky. The white streaks have flattened into wispy clouds. The smoke and throbbing of the earth are veiled. But as I watch Elvis walking away from me, a few dark plumes of smoke start trailing above the tree line, and Elvis adjusts his pace to a sprint.

I leave the courtyard, walking the few yards to my small farm house. I hear the soft padding of footsteps behind me. I’m still being followed. I reach for the copper door handle, waiting for the right moment to sneak in the front door, leaving the Guardians outside. If a dog could glare I’m sure the two following me just did. They settle on the wide porch, waiting for me to leave the house again.

The door clicks closed. I look around the house. From the center hallway, the kitchen is to my left, the living room to my right, the bedrooms and office further down the hall in front of me. I stand still, contemplating where to go and what to do, savoring the lack of judging eyes on me. And just as I’m thinking I might be alone, that I might get a moment of silence without a dog or another person staring at me, my office phone starts ringing. I walk down the hallway, to the last room, and lift the receiver off the phone on my desk.

“Andromeda?” Morris asks. He sounds concerned. He always sounds concerned. Ever since he saved my life. You would think he might sound cheerful, because I’m still alive.

“What’s going on out there?” I ask him. I’m curious if he knows as much about the bombings as I just figured out on my own. The Funding Entities just delivered an apocalypse to the United States.

“I can’t discuss it now, Andromeda. I just needed to make sure you’re safe.”

Of course he’s going to try and keep me in the dark, just as they always have. “I saw the missiles, Morris. I saw them flying through the sky and blast away the city.” At least I think it was the city, they seemed to hit the right distance away. It would either be the city or one of the suburbs surrounding it.

“That’s unfortunate.” He sighs into the phone. “I’m sorry you witnessed that, but you will be safe at the Pasture. Please do not try to leave. I will be contacting you soon.” He hangs up in my ear, not waiting to hear more from me.

It’s unlike Morris to end a call so quickly. To rush the conversation. He’s usually soft spoken, measured, thinking about the words that come out of his mouth, deciding if it’s the right thing to say. Morris was always the nice one. Little does he know I have no desire to leave. I don’t want to risk running into Crane again. I’m not sure I could handle seeing Crane. Not after what he did to me. Not after he stood by and watched Baillie almost kill me.

I stare at the black screen of the computer that sits on my desk. The only thing that seems to make me valuable to Crane. I have yet to turn it on since we arrived here. I’m useless without the use of both hands anyways. It is nothing but a token of threat to me each time I see it, knowing that once the broken arm heals I will have to go back to that work, back to deciding the future of others. Ironic, since it seems I have lost all control over my life.

I don’t want to sit by the phone or anywhere near the computer. A change of scenery would be nice, anything to take my mind off those missiles, off of my thoughts of Crane. I head to the garden to pick vegetables for dinner, and contemplate further what I have just witnessed. What it might mean for us. What it might mean for mine and my daughter’s future.

CHAPTER two

It has been two weeks since the bombings. At least four since Crane sabotaged our escape. I told myself I wasn't going to keep track, but I haven't much else to do here. My arm is still in a cast for three more weeks, or at least I think it needs three more weeks. I haven’t had it looked at since the cast was placed. The deep bruises Baillie left on my body have transformed my skin to a jaundiced hue. Dr. Akiyama ordered me to rest, to recover. But I’m not sure I’ll ever recover. So here I am, with my thoughts and memories, all of it tumbling through my head in one great tangled mess. It seems each time I try to pull a piece of it out, or try to sort things-memories, ideas, feelings-it just tangles further. An unforgiving knot.

The only thing that brings me true joy is spending time with Lina. But even when I'm with her, this heaviness looms over me. I'm afraid she can sense it, and it will change her like it has already changed me.

When I'm not wandering through the barns and the fields, I’ve found other ways to occupy my mind. I’ve begun drawing on my cast, creating tiny picture stories. Certain memories, true memories. The ones I don’t want to forget. The ones that are the only things keeping me sane. I’m sure of it.

I see Elvis staring at the cast with that quizzical look on his face. I know from a ways away it only looks like swirls and blobs. But when you stare at it up close-like I do all the time-you can see the tiny people I drew, the tiny memories, the good ones that I’m trying to hold on to. Me pregnant, Lina as a tiny bundled baby, our old house, Stevie leaping off the porch, my wedding dress, Ian in his tux, Lina growing, Sam graduating high school, the tree house, Adam saving us from the wolves, and cooking spaghetti with Lina. Sometimes, I have to hold back the swelling of tears that looking at them brings.

Somehow, slowly, I feel myself slipping. The knot tangles further and the strands pull tighter. I can’t untangle this. And I know I've felt it before, this heaviness consuming me. There were the times when I was between jobs, when my parents died, when I was getting worn out. It’s just never been this bad. I think the others are starting to see it now. Elvis, Blithe, the children, even Stevie. Elvis has started looking more and more concerned each time I see him. Our conversations trail off into nothingness as I remember everything that has happened, everything that we’ve lost. I just can't stop them from consuming my thoughts or from sneaking into my forebrain despite everything I try to distract myself with. The Guardians have even lost all trust in me. They are always walking close to my side, never leaving much distance between us.

The nightmares get worse each night, to the point where I’ve stopped sleeping. Instead, I stay up rocking myself and watching Lina as she sleeps so peacefully. It didn’t take long for the area under my eyes to regain the bluish hue they once had when I worked nights. Sometimes I wonder if I'm strong enough to go through this, to carry out my duties alone, with only Lina. And when I think of her growing up and moving on and what happens after that, the thought of being truly alone pulls me deeper. Because once Lina moves on I will have no one to anchor me here. I will have no reason to continue this work. I will have no reason to further submit myself to Crane’s demands.

I'm not sure what Crane did to me in that basement, but it worked. I’m afraid to leave. Afraid that when I come back, something will change again. That I may lose the only person I truly love, the only person I have left; Lina.

Still, sometimes I wonder if I saw Ian, could I overlook it all? Would I be able to forget that he let those people take Lina in the first place? Would I be able to free him, or would he even come back to me now after everything that has happened?

And I wonder if I saw Adam, would it rekindle what we once had? After all the lies? After all he kept from me? If he made it back, if he survived the bombings while he was out running for supplies, he’d be working. Answering to Crane’s demands, protecting the District. I would have no idea how to find him or get him to visit without blowing his cover. Without letting Crane figure out that I lied about our escape, and Adam had everything to do with trying to help us escape this place.

It’s the not knowing, not knowing anything at all, that makes the knot worse. It makes it hard to breathe, makes me fearful and confused. It just builds upon the affliction that’s taking over me.

Each day I return to the fields, pretending to check on the crops, thinking I may pick something. But my thoughts are not with the gardens-they are just another distraction-a poor distraction. I decide I just can’t take it anymore. I need some answers, some truths.

I return to the house to call Morris. I ask him about the bombings, survivors, and if anyone has been outside of the fence. But he stalls, makes excuses, apologizes, and asks me how I am doing. I know he’s trying to protect me and to help me get better, but it just makes me feel worse.

I have discovered one truth: you can’t untangle a knot by pulling on its ends, you have to start at its core.

--

I’m sitting on the porch, itching at the dry skin around my cast and flexing my fingers. The phone starts ringing. I sit and wait, hoping it will stop. I don’t want to talk to Morris now. I’m fed up with him. There is a Guardian sitting on the porch looking directly at me, expectantly.

“What?” I ask the beast. “Maybe… maybe I don’t want to talk to them.”

The Guardian responds by blowing a puff of air out of its nose, clearing the hair from in front of its eyes.

“Would you answer that?” I hear Elvis shout from across the courtyard.  I look up to see him standing at the door of the barn. “They just keep calling me when you don’t answer the phone, Andie.”

Now I feel guilty for interrupting Elvis’ work. I get up to answer the ringing phone, hoping he didn’t see me talking to the dog, which would probably solidify his speculation that I am going crazy.

“Andromeda.” It’s Morris. “Crane has called a Committee meeting.” He pauses, giving me time to process the information. The words cause my heart to race. I knew it was coming. It had to be. I haven’t been called to a Committee meeting in weeks.

“I’m not leaving,” I respond. “I’m not ready.”

“I know. Turn on your computer.” His voice is calm and soothing, leaving me with no choice but to do what he says.

I walk around the side of the desk and press the small button on the side of the middle computer screen. I can see an orange glow as the screen loads. It starts in the center, getting brighter, clearer. As I begin to realize what it is I step behind the screen so I don’t have to look at Crane’s face. My heart starts thumping. “Get him away from my screen, Morris.”

“Andromeda, calm down, it’s not him,” Morris tells me. “Take another look.”

I peer around the side of the desk-as a scared child would do-until I see that it was not Crane’s orange hair loading on my screen, but a bright orange emblem of a war torn bird rising from flames and rubble-a Phoenix.  How appropriate. The image that comes into view is that of the committee table. All the seats are there. Except for Crane’s. There must be a camera on the back of Crane’s laptop. There is a red blinking light at the top of my main monitor, and I know it must be a camera that is projecting my image back to the Committee members. I stand off to the side. I don’t want them to see me with my yellowed skin, broken nose, and frayed cast on my arm. I don’t want to give Crane the satisfaction of seeing how badly he damaged me.

There’s a commotion in the room. I can see people walking in and sitting in their seats. I see Morris’s kind face as he waves at the screen and smiles to me. He’s holding a phone to his ear.

“I’m putting you on speaker, Andromeda.” He presses a button and sets the receiver down. Alexander sits next to him, also smiling, and greets me. I barely know Alexander. He is quiet, passive, observant.

I see Crane walk in front of the screen, and I know it wasn’t necessary. He took the long way around the table to get to his seat, to taunt me. What an ass. I hear Crane start the meeting by tapping the hammer on the copper plate, just like always. I look to the Volker seat. It’s empty. My heart sinks a little at the thought that I might have seen Adam, that he could still be alive. Someone clears their throat, there is more commotion. Adam sits down at his seat. I hold my breath, trying to contain the rush of excitement at seeing him. Somehow I forget how angry I was at him before, over a month ago, when he tried to help us escape unsuccessfully.

I don’t step in front of the camera. I let them stare at my empty chair, the blank wall, the wooden windowsill.

Crane starts speaking, “District Sovereign, I would like to welcome you to a very important day in the history of the Phoenix District. As you know, the United States has fallen, its government and people now in ruins. Right now the Phoenix District is the last remaining organized society within what was known as the United States of America. So, I would like to congratulate you all on making the Phoenix District a success!” I hear him clapping his hands as the rest of the room follows.

I don’t join in. Because I know he’s lying. I know that there are more Districts. I knew this before the bombings.

CHAPTER three

Crane manages the meeting just as he always has, by discussing the supplies brought back by Adam and how the rations will be divided and stored. Crops have already been planted, but we will need to plant more now that the green houses are up and running. Alexander and Morris discuss the factions. About one quarter of the population is off their medication, and the rest are still in the titration period.

Then I hear Adam speak in his familiar voice. He tells them that the fence and cement wall have remained intact. The District has remained free from any damage of the bombings.

“We can only expect that some Survivors will find their way to the District,” Crane states.

Survivors. I never thought of Survivors. I just assumed everyone would perish. But Sam could have survived. He could be out there somewhere.

“They will be allowed in on a case by case basis,” Crane continues. “We cannot afford to harbor refugees, and everyone that enters the District will become a member of this society. They will be tested, assigned a faction, and genetically paired.” I can hear Crane’s smug smile pulling at his lip with the last phrase. I don’t even have to look at him to see it. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to touch the computer for months, until the first group of District infants are born. But Crane has made it known that I will be responsible for pairing any Survivors who pass the gates.

“Who will decide on what Survivors to let in?” I hear Adam ask.

“That will be a Committee decision,” Crane replies. “We will all discuss potential additions to the District.”

Great, now we will be responsible for choosing Residents from the Survivors. I can think of nothing worse than standing at the gates hoping that you are one of chosen to be let in. Knowing that there is nothing left out there, and your only hopes for survival lay within these walls. It’s almost comical. What almost killed me, what has ruined my life, might be someone’s last hope someday.

Just as it began, the meeting ends with Crane and his little hammer. I was successful at saying nothing, just as I had hoped.

--

I return to my wandering. Floating through the Pasture like a ghost. I get the feeling Elvis told Morris of how I’ve been acting. He wants me to see the doctor and to leave the Pasture. Each time Morris suggests it I refuse. I think the only reason why they let me remain in this state is because I can function like a normal human being when Lina is around. We read, tend to the farm animals, walk the gardens together, throw sticks for Stevie to chase, and swing on the old wooden swings that hang from the large oak trees. When it’s just the three of us, me, Lina and Stevie, and I don’t have to think about Crane, or the District, or everything we’ve lost, I can get by. Sometimes I even smile. It’s the hours in between, when I don’t have Lina and Stevie to distract me which concerns them so much. To tell the truth those hours in between scare me. I dread them. I fear them, because I know it will all come flooding back.

--

One day out of the blue Elvis brings me a package. It’s a small padded envelope. When I open it I see a small disk drive. It can only mean one thing. Data. They let Survivors in. I almost don’t care that I wasn’t included in choosing who was allowed to enter the gates. I don’t want to be held responsible for that. But at the same time, if Crane finds me to be less valuable for his plan here, I may become expendable. They have other Districts, they could have someone else doing my job right now.

I turn the computer on for the first time in weeks, since the last Committee meeting. I push the drive into the monitor and open the file that loads up on the screen. It’s strange, there is one new Resident.

I find it hard to believe that anyone would knowingly walk towards an area of identified radioactivity to find the gates. There are signs posted all over. All I can think is they must not have anywhere else to go. Or maybe someone snuck in. Or they passed them over during the testing phase of the District organization. I’ll probably never know.

Kira must have analyzed the data. I scroll through the file, poking at the keyboard with the one finger of my good arm. I stare at the long genetic code. I rearrange it by height, hair color, skin color, eye color. Not long after I can almost see the new resident standing before me. Male, fair skin, green eyes, brown hair, over six feet tall. Strange. This person looks familiar to me. I open the original Resident pairing file and find my own unpaired genetic data. I copy it and place it next to my new sample. Most of it matches. This can only mean one thing: I am related to this person.

I look at the birth date Kira has provided. I’m sure my heart skips a few beats when I see Sam’s birth date.

I pick up the phone. “I need to speak with District Sovereign Morris,” I tell the operator.

I wait as the phone rings. But Morris doesn’t answer. I hang up and stare at the data trying to control the excitement bubbling inside me. It can’t be wrong, it has to be Sam. I call Morris over and over again until he finally answers an hour later.

I don’t even let him say hello. “You're keeping things from me, Morris.”

“Yes I am,” he responds in his usual calm voice.

“Why didn't you tell me my brother was allowed in?”

“We were waiting for the right time-”

“You could have told me!” I interrupt him. “He's the only family Lina and I have left. I want to see him.”

“You weren’t ready when he got here. I’m not sure you’re ready now, Andromeda,” he responds, his voice solemn.

“I’m ready now. I have to see him, Morris.”

The other end of the phone is silent.

I decide to make my second request, hoping it isn’t too obvious. “I want Colonel Waters to bring him.”

“Colonel Waters is very busy, Andromeda.”

“I know he’s busy, he’s always busy,” I tell him. What I don’t tell Morris is that I have to speak with Adam. I have to know what happened. What’s going on outside the walls. So, I say something in hopes that he will send Adam, something that I might regret, “He's the only one I trust with the care of someone I love.”

“He’s someone you should trust, if you don’t already, Andromeda.” I hear Morris let out a heavy sigh. There is a long silence, and I know Morris is contemplating my request, weighing his options.

“I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.” I pause for a moment. “You want me to get better, Morris? You want me to heal, to stop acting crazy? Then send my brother.”

There I did it. I admitted to Morris that I know I’m going mad. That I know I’ve been sent here to heal mentally more than physically. I’m not sure seeing Sam would help-or seeing Adam for that matter-I just know I want to see them. I want to make sure they are real, alive.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Morris responds before saying goodbye and hanging up.

CHAPTER four

I continue my floating, my distractions, my drawings on the cast, and wait to see if Morris will grant me my wish. The nightmares continue. And now that I know Sam is alive somewhere in the District, it somehow makes them worse. One night I fell asleep in Lina’s room only to have her shaking me in the night, trying to wake me, crying, because I was screaming again. I can’t handle the nightmares like a normal person might. A normal person would wake up and reorient themselves. A normal person would wake up and take a few deep breaths then roll over and go back to sleep. I can’t. Each time I wake up I’m in the same place. I’m still here. My family is still ruined, my life is still ruined, my husband has still been taken, my brother is here, Adam is here, I still see Baillie’s face every time I close my eyes, and Crane’s threats loom over me.

So I stay up staring at the computer, at the genetic data that could only be Sam’s. I read books from the library-house. I sleep during the day when I find a comfortable place in the woods or the fields. Far enough away so that Lina, or anyone else, can’t hear me. But always when I wake there’s at least three Guardians standing close to me, watching me, concerned that they can’t pull me back from whatever is happening in my mind. It’s that giant dust bunny of a knot. I can’t escape it.

Sometimes, like today, I just walk, past the water tower and out to the farthest fields. Places I haven’t explored yet. I find a small pond with an old wooden boat. It looks tranquil and soothing. Just the place for an afternoon nap. But when I reach for the rope to pull the boat to shore, one of the Guardians steps in front of me, nudging my hand away from the rope, redirecting me away from the water. I watch the dragonflies and frogs, jealous that they are able to enjoy the morning pond and I am forced to move on.

I continue on, walking further, until I come upon another cluster of houses. These are unlike the ones we live in. They are much older. Not much more than ruins. Small, single room houses with sagging porches, covered in heavy moss, roofs missing. I walk through them, trying to envision who might have lived here so long ago. When I walk through the living space of the largest building, which is much smaller than the house I’m living in now, I hear a hollow echo from under the wooden floor. I stop, looking to my feet, and find a small metal circle in the floorboards. As I reach down to pull it up and see what lies underneath the floorboards, one of the Guardians interrupts me. He nudges me behind the knee, trying to get me to walk back towards the houses where we live. They must be concerned that I’ve missed my nap. Or they don’t want me to see what lies under the floorboards. I reluctantly follow the Guardians out of the house and retrace my steps. I walk past the pond and the fields making my way back home, escorted by the three large beasts.

When I get to the open field I can see that all the Guardians are on the move. They come from the fields and the woods, surrounding me as I walk. Some leave the forest heading for the circle of houses where the children are at the schoolhouse. They've only done this once before, just before the bombings. This time they don't look to the sky, they look towards the front gate. Which can only mean one thing: someone is here.

I pick up the pace until I’m at a full on sprint. It only takes me a few minutes until I get to the schoolhouse. When I look in the window, Ms. Black and the children are still inside. Elvis walks out of the nearby barn. He must've seen the pack of Guardians headed for the gate. I run to him.

"Who’s here?" I ask out of breath, clutching the stitch in my side.

"I'm not sure. Morris didn't send correspondence." Elvis steps back into the barn, returning only moments later carrying a black shiny rifle and two handguns. "Do you know how to fire these?"

"No." I stare at the weapons.

"That’s too bad, you'll need to learn." He hands me a handgun. It feels strange. Hard and smooth. I’ve never held a gun before. I probably shouldn’t be now. “The safety is on. You’re just holding it for show,” he tells me.

We walk to the gate escorted by half of the Guardians. The rest stay by the schoolhouse to protect the children. I’m not sure what to expect. I’m afraid that it’s Crane behind that gate. And I just might have to shoot him, unprovoked, with this gun in my hand. My shoes crunch on the gravel driveway. I hang the heavy gun at my side. It feels like a brick in my hand. It feels wrong in my hand.

Even though it’s almost autumn and the days are finally cooling, I’m sweating like a panicked animal. Elvis must sense this because just before we get to the old stone wall that’s camouflaged with vines he turns to me, holding out his hand. He doesn’t have to say a thing. I gladly place the handgun in his open palm and watch as he tucks it into his belt. He walks to the gate, punching in numbers on a small keypad. I wait as he pulls the gate open.

Once the Guardians see that our visitors are no threat, they return to the fields and the forest. Four remain, watching us intently.

I can barely believe my eyes. Standing in the shaded driveway are Adam and Sam. I don’t move. I wait, afraid they are a mirage. That they will disappear and Crane will be standing there instead, waiting to do something horrible to us.

Elvis recognizes Adam right away. They greet each other with a handshake. Then they all turn, watching me. The shock on Sam and Adam’s face is clear. I look like crap. I know this, there’s no way to hide it. Still, it’s my brother standing in front of me. My baby brother who I haven’t seen in almost two years, who I haven’t seen since the earthquake, since our lives changed so drastically. It is him, right?

Sam looks taller and more muscled-not so innocent as he used to. I wait, watching his eyes and the way he moves, trying to make sure he isn’t under the same medication as Ian. I wait to see if he knows who I am.

He walks towards me, and it doesn’t take long-only a few strides-for him to move in front of me. “Andie!” He pulls me into his arms. “Oh my God, I thought you were dead.”

The reunion hug is awkward because he is so tall and I’m so short, and I can’t do much with my broken arm. I let out a squeak from his crushing embrace that’s pressing on my bruised ribs. For the first time I smile without Lina at my side. My heart feels a little less heavy, a little more hopeful. I have my brother back.

One knot string loosens.

“Where’s Lina?” He asks, pushing me back and looking into my eyes.

“She’s in school.” I point to the cluster of houses at the end of the gravel driveway.

“Let’s go. I can’t wait to see her.” Sam takes my hand, pulling me with him as he runs to the schoolhouse. I turn around, just for a minute, hoping to see Adam follow us, hoping that he stays. He helps Elvis close the gate and begins walking slowly beside Elvis down the gravel drive.

Another knot string loosens.

When we reach the schoolhouse I am out of breath. I open the front door to let Sam in. The children and Blithe turn to look at us.

"Uncle Sammy!" Lina jumps from her desk, running to Sam.

“Lina!” He spins Lina around in a bear hug as she giggles. “You’re so big! I can’t believe it.”

Blithe ends class early to celebrate Sam’s homecoming. We gather in the courtyard; talking, introducing everyone, and catching up. Soon it’s time for dinner and we walk to the garden to pick vegetables. Elvis and Adam head to the far barn to slaughter two chickens for our meal, still deep in conversation.

Adam has said nothing to me, only glanced in my direction a few times. Deep down, I wish it were still there, the spark Adam had for me before we tried to escape. I can see it in his eyes. He hasn't laid a finger on me since he showed up. Not a hug. Not a brush of his hand across my cheek. When he looks at me it's like Morris. All I see is concern, worry, fright. It almost hurts worse than what Baillie did to me.

We eat. We celebrate our visitors. Elvis builds a large bonfire and it burns until the sun has gone down. When it’s dark, Blithe and I leave to get the children ready for bed.

“Is Uncle Sammy going to stay?” Lina asks as I help her into her pajamas.

“I think so, honey. I’ll talk with him tonight while you sleep.”

She reads me a story, and I tuck her into bed. I sit in the rocking chair, waiting to hear the steady breaths that can only mean she is sleeping. She falls asleep instantly, exhausted from the excitement of the day.

I return to the bonfire which has wilted to nothing more than a pile of superheated coals. I want to talk with Sam. I want to catch up on heavier topics. Like what he’s been doing since we’ve been here and how he got in. Adam and Elvis watch us.

“Did you start classes?” I ask Sam. He should have started medical school almost two years ago.

“No,” he shakes his head at me. “They cancelled the program after the meltdown. Everyone left the city.”

“So what have you been doing?”

“I enlisted,” he tells me.

“We agreed you were going to wait.” Suddenly I’m angry with him, that he changed his plans. We had decided together, he promised me he would wait to enlist.

“I had no choice,” he tells me. “I searched everywhere for you and Lina and Ian. I came to the conclusion that you were all dead. I had no one left, Andie. I had nothing else.” I look into his green eyes, replicas of mine and Lina’s. They are filled with sadness, and a glimmer of hope.

I think of how I’ve felt each time Lina asked about him, each time I thought he might also be dead, knowing that I would never see him again. He’s right. I know it. I drop the argument and change the subject.

“You’ve met the other Sovereign?” I ask him.

“Yeah, Crane’s a real super douche. He's lucky I didn't see you before I met him. I would have wrung his speckled neck.”

Little does he know how bad I looked weeks ago.

“So you know what's going on here then?” I ask him.

“Yeah, Adam filled me in with all the details.”

“And?”

“And it's a lot better than what's going on out there.” He points to the south, past the wall and the fence. “This is the safest I've felt in weeks. There are no bombings, no one hiding around the corner waiting to jump you, no one ransacking your house looking for food. As far as I can tell this is the last civilized place left in the country.” He pauses, looking at me, concerned. He lowers his voice. “Have you been eating, Andie?” he asks so no one else can hear.

“When I feel like it.” I shrug at him.

“You've lost too much weight.” He looks me up and down, at my baggy clothes, my disheveled hair.

“I don't care,” I tell him.

It’s the truth. It's not like anyone here wants to look at me. Crane ruined whatever I had that made men look at me before. He's taken everything from me. My family, my home, my job.

Elvis sets up rooms for Sam and Adam to stay, in the upper level of the library-house.

I wait until all the lights are off at all the houses before I check on Lina to make sure she is sleeping. Stevie’s ears perk up when I open the bedroom door. She raises her head from the end of the bed where she’s laying.

“I’m going outside,” I tell Stevie and she lays her head back down to sleep.

This is what I have resorted to: talking to the dogs.

I take a heavy quilt from the living room and sit by the fire, watching the hot coals simmer a bright blue. I know that I should be happier now that Sam and Adam are here. Still, I’m not quite right.

While the fire burns out I lean back in my chair watching the stars, trying to pull out the constellations that I can remember from childhood. The big dipper, the little dipper. Sadly, that’s it. I yawn. And trying to keep myself awake, I resort to counting the stars in the sky, making my own patterns. It doesn’t work. I spent too long wandering the fields and not sleeping this afternoon. Once I get halfway through the star-filled sky I fall asleep.

This dream is bad. The worst so far. Lina, Sam, Adam, even Blithe and the boys are all trapped in the house, pounding on the windows, screaming for help. I can see the missile. Whistling through the sky. It looks like one of those atomic missiles from the old cartoons, large and bulbous, headed straight for the house. I run, screaming, pulling on the door, trying to break the windows. But it’s no use. I can’t get them out. I stand on the porch as the bomb whistles down, crashing through the house, exploding. I was hoping it would kill me too, that maybe I could move on to some new place in the heavens with everyone I love. But all it does is throw me away from the house. So I can watch it go up in flames consuming everyone I love. Then I am screaming, trying to run back to them so I can pull their bodies from the charred wreckage, so I can be a nurse again and fight to save them. But I can’t. Something is holding me back, pulling me by the hair. When I turn my head I can see it is Crane, smiling, as I watch everyone I love burn to a crisp.

There is a sharp pain on my arm, a pinch. It’s just enough to wake me up. Startled, I look around in the darkness trying to orient myself, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

“Andie, wake up.” Adam’s face is in front of mine, he has that furrow in his brow, the one he gets when he’s mad or concerned.

This is the closest he’s been to me since he got here. I want to reach out and touch his dark hair to make sure he’s real. I want to stare into his blue eyes just a few seconds longer. But I’m embarrassed. I know that I must have been screaming and woke him up. I jump up out of the chair, letting the quilt fall to the ground.

“I have to check on Lina,” is all I say.

And I do. I have to make sure none of the dream was real. I run back to my house in the dark, leaving Adam by the cold fire holding the quilt. I close the door behind me and lock it. I go to Lina’s room only to find her sleeping peacefully with Stevie resting on her pillow.

I spend the rest of the night hiding in the house, scrubbing the kitchen and the bathrooms until the sun rises. Then I wake Lina and get her ready for the day.

As we enter the schoolhouse, I find Sam standing there talking with Blithe. He looks strange here, out of place, his head almost touching the short ceiling.

“What are you doing here, Sam?” I ask.

“Didn’t Adam tell you?” I shake my head no. I don’t tell him that I have yet to hold a conversation with Adam since their return. “I’ve been assigned to the Sovereign Children’s Training Program.”

“But you’re not a child,” I say. He’s almost an adult, in his early twenties.

“Crane says they couldn’t afford to assign me to a working faction, my scores were too high. He said something about needing more Sovereign. Little did you know your little brother was a genius.”

“I’ve known for a long time, Sam. That’s why I pushed you to go to medical school.” I smile, happy that he is going to stay here with us, but not enthused that his future will be the same as mine and Lina’s. This can only mean one thing: Crane has chosen him to help run the District.

I leave the classroom only to sit on the porch for a moment, eavesdropping. I’ve done this before, making note that many things have been eliminated from the children’s teachings. Important dates in history, governments, trades, religions. I listen as Blithe catches Sam up on the history of the District. Much of it I’m sure he already knows. The teachings include the current Districts’ arrangement, the factions, the roles of the Sovereign. It’s not long before I start to feel tired, my head bobs. I can’t risk falling asleep so close to the schoolhouse. I get up and walk my usual path between the library-house and one of the barns, headed for the fields. Just as I am almost clear of the courtyard Elvis and Adam step out from behind the barn, right near my path. I walk fast, keeping my head down, hoping they are too deep in conversation to notice me.

Then I hear Elvis, who’s been watching me as I try to pass them. “Andie can show you the grounds. She walks them nearly all day while her girl is in class,” he tells Adam.

Adam turns as I start to pass them. He doesn’t look as startled to see me this time. But I did put a little effort into readying myself for the day. I did my hair, securing it in a loose bun, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a nice sweater, instead of my usual worn jeans and heavy sweatshirts.

“Do you mind?” He asks. I shake my head no, but I don’t wait for him. I continue walking, letting him follow me out past the houses to the dry fields. “You walk the grounds all day, Andie?” I hear Adam ask from behind me. “What’s that all about?”

I turn to him unsure of what to say. My thoughts halted by his image before me. I almost forgot how handsome he is when he’s clean shaven and dressed in normal clothes, not the dull grey Volker uniform.

I shake my broken arm. The cast is itching again. Most of the cuts and bruises have healed, and now I can finally breathe without feeling the sharp twinge of pain from the broken ribs. But standing next to him, after all this time, I suddenly find it hard to breathe again.

I pull a small twig off the ground, poking it into the cast, trying to reach the itching spot. It needs to come off. It’s been on long enough. But each time I’ve asked Morris to send the doctor he gives me some pathetic excuse. The doctor is doing physicals today or he’s training the medical staff. I know he’s just stalling. They want me to leave the Pasture, to have the cast removed at the hospital. But that will never happen. Not now. Not ever. I can’t see myself ever leaving Lina or the safety of these walls, again. Not for a long time.

“You need to have that cut off.” Adam stands in front of me, his hands in his pockets, squinting in the sun.

“I can't,” I respond, staring at the tiny pictures I’ve drawn on the hard cast over the weeks. It’s part of me. It holds my memories. The ones I’m afraid to forget.

“You can't put it off forever,” he tells me.

“I'm hoping it may just slough off on its own.”

“It won't. We both know that.”

“I'm not leaving this place. I'm not ready.”

“I can tell,” he says. For the first time, I look into his familiar pale blue   eyes. “What did Crane do to you?” he asks. I just shake my head at him. I didn’t think it would affect me like this. Crane’s punishment. I can’t escape the nightmares, the fear of seeing him again. It’s all too much. “Of all people, Andie, I know what you're going through. It happened to me in the Middle East.”

I don’t respond for a long time. I’m trying to pick the correct words, taking my time like Morris does. I can’t explain the reason why I feel this way, why it has affected me so, why it might be different than what happened to him. “They didn't try and take your child from you,” I tell him. It’s the only thing I can think of, the only thing I can respond with.

“No, they didn't, but afterwards my entire family died. Everyone I ever loved. You think that was an accident? I know better. It wasn’t.” He pauses, running his hand through his now longer dark hair. I know it still hurts him to talk about them. “You just need time. You need to talk about it. It’s the only way to get better.”

“Who am I going to talk about it with? There's no one here. Blithe is busy with the children and Elvis is busy running the farm. I have no one.” I shake my head at him. He doesn’t understand. I’m not even sure I do. “I don't want to talk about this now…” I can feel my chin start to quiver, the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. What is wrong with me? I used to be so in control. I cover my face with my good hand and take in a few deep breaths. After it has passed I ask him, “Can't you just cut it off for me?”

“I'm not a doctor.”

“But I trust you,” I whisper. Even after everything that’s happened, after telling myself that I would just pretend to trust him. I know deep down that I actually do. I always have. Even after he lied to me.

”It took you long enough.”

“Just cut it off. Please.” My arm starts throbbing. The blood vessels coming back to life in a rapid flow, in anticipation of being freed from the hard cast.

“Come on.” Adam leads me to one of the small barns where the tools are kept. He searches through the barn until he finds a small circular saw.

We sit outside, across from each other, our knees almost touching. Adam starts sawing off the hard cast. I watch the white powder fly through the sky, specks of it collecting in his dark hair and on his black shirt. The vibration from the electric saw reaches all the way to my now healed bones. He slows the speed once the length of the cast is cut. He reaches for my casted arm placing it on his warm leg. I hold my hand in a fist, preventing my fingers from touching his thigh. I can handle hugs from Lina right now, I’m not sure I could handle the feelings I get from touching Adam.

He places his thumbs on each side of the crevice in the cast pulling it apart as though it were a thin eggshell.

Holding them out side-by-side I stare at my arms. The healed arm is shriveled, shrunken, half the size it used to be. The muscles atrophied from months without use.

“How does it feel?” He asks, holding the broken cast in his hand.

“Freed, but… not quite right.” I squeeze my hand. It doesn’t do much to flex the muscles of my forearm, they are too weak and feel like jello. I look up to see the cast on the ground and Adam scratching the inside of his arm. I notice the small scar on his forearm. The small criss-crossed stitches I gave him.

The transmitter.

CHAPTER five

“Adam, are you wearing the transmitter?” I ask, trying to control the pitch in my voice, trying not to sound hysterical.

“I always do,” he responds nonchalantly.

I reach forward, pushing up his sleeve, touching his warm skin for the first time and ignoring the tingling sensation in my fingertips. Wrapped around his upper arm, cutting into the muscle of his bicep, is the locket that I placed the transmitter in months ago after removing it from Adam’s arm. I took it out so Crane would no longer have the opportunity of killing Adam. The transmitter is loaded with a lethal dose of potassium, as well as a tracking device. If he ever strayed while outside the District collecting supplies Crane could end his life with the push of a button.

“Crane can track you. He can track you here!” I stand, unclasping the necklace and unwinding it from his arm.

“What are you doing?” Adam asks, trying to stop my shaking hands.

“I can’t let him find us. I can’t let him find Lina!” I run back to the tool-barn with the golden jewel-encrusted locket in hand, searching for something hard and flat. I find a large hammer. I open the locket spilling the small transmitter onto the counter.

Adam is right behind me, trying to stop me, grabbing at my hands and arms. “Stop! Andie, calm down.”

I raise the hammer, ready to smash the transmitter as hard as I can. But Adam stops my arms, ripping the hammer from my grasp. I push at him, trying to get the hammer back. “Give it to me! Give it back now!” I yell at him.

He holds the hammer high in the air, his arm fully extended. I jump a few times trying to grab it back but I can’t reach. He’s too tall. I turn around searching the barn for something else, another tool to break the transmitter. But I can’t find anything. I resort to throwing the tools on the floor, pulling them off the walls, searching still. I can’t let Crane find us. If it’s the last thing I do, I have to destroy that transmitter, right now.

Adam is behind me pulling at my shoulders. I hear him speaking but whatever he is saying doesn’t quite reach my ears. All I know is he’s trying to stop me, and I can’t let him. He doesn’t understand. I pull away from him continuing my search, frantic and panicked.

Finally, Adam grabs my shoulder hard, turning me around to face him. “Would you look at yourself, what is wrong with you?” He asks, his face directly in front of mine.

“Crane…” I start, but my chin is trembling again. I’ve never been so scared before, never so scared of a single person in my entire life.

“What about him?”

“I can’t let him find us.” I wipe at my face with my sweater sleeves. He must think I’m weak, pathetic even. Reduced to this sobbing mess.

“Why?”

“Because,” I reply angrily. “Because I can’t!”

“Why are you so scared of him, Andie? You never were before.”

He’s right. I wasn’t before. I wasn’t afraid to question him, to speak my mind, to scoff at his attempts to control my life, but that was before the basement. I’m guessing Morris hasn’t told him.

“Of course I wasn’t!” I yell at him. Angry that he’s trying to stop me, angry that he is seeing me like this. “That was before he had Baillie beat the life out of me. That was before he told me I would never see my daughter again. You were gone. Ian is gone. I was scared. Sam was dead out there in the bombings.”

There it is. I can’t hold it in any longer. The pain, the fear, knowing that I will never be the same. That my daughter lived for a week without me and I thought I would never see anyone I loved ever again. I let myself drop to the ground in tears, never fully reaching the cold floor of the barn. Adam pulls me up, holding me to his chest, kissing my forehead. I barely notice when he lets go with one arm, smashing the hammer over the transmitter, breaking it into tiny bits.

--

I tell Adam everything. How Crane stole me away from Lina and my Volker escort after he found us trying to escape. The musty basement, how Crane said I’d never see Lina again, what Baillie did to me, and my pathetic attempts to fight back. I tell him how Morris rescued me. How I was thinking that I was going to die, that I would never see any of them again. Then there were the nightmares, my drifting, Morris and Elvis' concerned looks, and the fact that the Guardians don't even trust me anymore. Of all things, the dogs don’t even trust me. I don’t tell him that he is the only one who knows all this, but I’m sure that he can sense it.

When I am done, it’s time to collect Lina from school. I simply get up and walk away from him. Leaving him with all of my baggage in the empty field. I head for the schoolhouse. This time, though, I don’t float through the fields as a lifeless ghost. I can feel the hard ground under my feet, the tall grass brushing against my legs. It’s a welcome improvement compared to what I’ve been sensing these past weeks. Maybe Adam was right.

When I get to the courtyard, Blithe is standing outside with the children and Sam. Lina is sitting on Sam’s shoulders, teasing Stevie with a long stick and giggling as Stevie attempts to jump up and bite the stick.

“How was your first day of class?” I ask Sam.

“Good,” he replies.

“Mommy, can we do our chores now?” Lina asks from high above me.

“That sounds like a great idea. Come on, Sam. Lina can show you her favorite animals.”

We walk off towards the barns to help feed the chickens and other farm animals. Even though Elvis feeds the animals each morning, he saves some food for Lina to give them every afternoon. There are carrots for the horses, corn kernels for the chickens, and apples for the spitting alpacas. For some reason Lina likes the alpacas best.

Sam and I catch up. He tells me about how he searched for us at the hospital and at the barricade. The hospital told him I was no longer their employee, that I had been terminated. And all the army would tell him was that our bodies had not been found. It must have been horrible, the moment he realized he was alone with none of his family surviving. I will forever be in debt to Adam for finding him and bringing him back to me.

Thankfully, Sam doesn’t ask about Ian in front of Lina. I’m sure Adam or Crane filled him in on Ian’s current disposition. But, I can sense that Sam wants to ask about him as he keeps looking at the wedding band on my finger, the one I still can’t seem to take off. We will have to save that conversation for another time.

We gather in the courtyard for dinner. Blithe and the boys made blueberry pies. I bring the roasted squash that Lina picked after feeding the animals and Elvis brings three fat rabbits he trapped in the far corn fields. We listen to the children chatter about their day in the classroom, then they beg Sam to play tag with them. We all laugh watching him chase and then run from the three children. Somehow, this moment feels almost normal. Elvis and Blithe’s faces are no longer filled with worry each time they look at me. Adam was right. I had to tell someone about what happened.

At nightfall I take Lina inside to get her ready for bed. I wait with her until she’s sound asleep like I do every night. After telling Stevie where I’m going, I wander outside to begin another night of avoiding sleep.

Someone has started a fire. I look around to the houses, peering in their windows. Blithe is getting the boys to bed. Sam is reading a book in the library-house, Elvis turns off his lights. I sit by the fire in one of the aged Adirondack chairs welcoming its heat on my cold arms, and watch the stars.

“Do you want this?”

I jump, startled. Adam stands near me holding the quilt I left outside last night. I hold my arm out expecting him to pass me the quilt, but instead he takes my arm, pulling me out of the chair. When I’m standing he sits down, and pulling me onto his lap he covers both of us with the quilt.

“Relax,” Adam whispers in my ear.

My body is stiff, edgy. I haven’t been able to relax in weeks. I lay my head on his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent of sandalwood and leather. I’m not sure if it’s the warmth radiating off him, or the feeling of his arms locked around me, but for the first time in months I fall into a dead sleep without even saying another word to him.

CHAPTER six

I wake as the morning sun is just peeking over the horizon only to find my mouth hanging open and a thick puddle of drool on Adam’s shirt. I reach up to clean my face off on my sleeve, and use it to soak up the wetness on his shirt. He doesn’t wake from my movements. I peer up at him, watching him sleep so peacefully. He’s relaxed, his breath slow and steady, his muscles soft yet his arms are still clasped around my back as though he’s afraid he might lose me in the night.

Maybe he has the same fears as I do. I wonder if he has trouble sleeping at night, if he’s afraid that when he wakes up it will all be gone, and those terrible dreams will be his reality? Maybe we have more in common than I originally thought. I stare at him, memorizing his face. It’s then I realize that there were no nightmares.

I lay my head back down on Adam’s chest, thinking about what I should do next. I have to formulate my next move, my plan. Every time I think of Crane I still feel a sharp pang of fear. I know that I can’t let this go on. Even after all he’s done to me. I can’t let him think I am afraid. Then he has truly won, and Lina and I will never have peace.

When I look up again Adam is awake, watching me. A look of concern spreads across his face.

“I’m fine,” I tell him.

“I wouldn’t be so sure just yet,” He looks around the courtyard then back to me. No one else is awake, not even the animals have stirred. There’s nothing more than the smoking embers and the peachy sunrise to greet us this morning. “So, what are your plans for today?”

I think for a minute, and then look into his eyes. “I want you to show me how to fire a gun.”

“Excellent.” He smiles down at me. “That’s the Andie I remember.”

--

I meet Adam in the South fields. When I get there, Elvis and Sam are with Adam.

“What are you all doing out here?” I ask them.

“I had an idea after you mentioned you wanted to learn to shoot. We are going to train all the adults,” Adam responds.

I don’t like the idea of my little brother firing a gun. “Sam’s supposed to be in class.” I point at him like a child tattling.

“Andie, I’ve been firing a gun for as long as I can remember. So drop it,” Sam tells me.

“Look,” Adam interrupts. “If Crane shows up, everyone needs to be able to protect themselves.” The way Adam looks at me makes me wonder if he’s talking about more than just the adults.

They’ve brought out a table and targets, but more than just guns. There’s a selection of knives, bows and arrows, a spear.

“Andie, you’re with me. Sam is with Elvis.”

Adam motions for me to come to him. Laid out in front of him on the table is an assortment of guns, pistols, shotguns, and a revolver. He starts with the pistol, showing me how to load it and how to check the safety. He does this with each of the guns then makes me repeat what he said and load them by myself. When I look over, I see Elvis showing Sam how to throw a knife at one of the targets in the field. Elvis hits the bulls-eye, but Sam’s knife lands in the grass.

“Andie.” Adam redirects my attention. “It’s time to shoot.”

He hands me a pistol, showing me how to hold it, folding my hands around it like a puzzle, leaving my index finger outside of the trigger guard. Then he takes it out of my hand, laying it on the table. “Now pick it up, fast,” he tells me.

I reach down, fumbling at first, until I get the pistol in the position he showed me. He instructs me on how to stand, kicking my feet apart until they’re at the right distance and how to aim with the sight. I look over to Sam again and see him throw one of the knives, hitting the center of the target. Adam is behind me, in my ear. “Pay attention.” He grips his hands over mine, holding me in my stance, clicking the safety off. “Now squeeze the trigger.” I put my index finger on the trigger, squeezing a tiny bit then stopping against the resistance. “Don’t hesitate, do it!” I squeeze hard, rocking backwards into Adam from the force of the bullet leaving the chamber. “Again!” he demands. I pull the trigger with the same effect. I keep shooting, missing the target each time. Plumes of pale dust rise up out of the grass. “This is pretty sad. Should I have brought a pink pistol for you?” Adam chirps in my ear. I’m not sure if he’s joking with me or trying to make me mad. Either way, it works.

“Get off my back,” I tell him. I shrug my shoulders until he steps back, leaving me standing alone with just the pistol. I squeeze the trigger, letting my body adjust to firing the weapon. I adjust my stance, the grip on the gun, squeezing the trigger again, hitting the middle of the target.

“It’s about time,” Adam responds from behind me. I proceed to empty the bullets into the target, most of them leaving holes around the bulls-eye. As we move on into the early afternoon, Adam trains me on shooting the shotgun, this almost sends me flying onto my back. By the end of the afternoon my hands and arms throb and both targets are destroyed from mine and Sam’s target practice.

We practice each afternoon. Once Sam has mastered all of the weapons, he returns to classes during the day. Adam continues training me with the knives, the bow, and a spear. I don’t have any prior experience with weapons like Sam, who used to hunt with our father. I never had a need for weapons. But times have changed. I practice over and over, soaking up everything he tells me, repeating it in my head so I don’t forget.

--

“I want you to teach me how to fight,” I tell Adam one afternoon.

“Why do you want to know how to fight?” Adam asks me.

“I know there won’t always be a weapon around to assist me.” He watches my face, studying me. “And I need to strengthen my weak arm.” I hold out the arm that was broken. It’s still shriveled, smaller than my other one.

“Fine, tomorrow we’ll start.”

“Why not today? We have plenty of time.” I plead with him, pointing to the sun which is directly over us. Adam sets his face. It’s a mixture of concern and puzzlement.

“I don’t have any padding to protect you.”

“You won’t hurt me. It’s fine.” I can tell he doesn’t want to, but he caves and motions me over to the field, away from the weapons.

He lectures me on stance, movement, and anticipation. It’s easy to see him as a combat trainer in the military. The only thing he’s missing is the fatigues. He stands back from me, holding his hands up, palms facing me, instructing me how to throw a punch, how to kick high into the air. After a short time I’m winded and exhausted.

“Session’s over, Andie, you’re not ready.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your bruises, your arm. You need to wait, maybe start with light strength training.”

I glare at him and walk away, angry. There’s nothing I detest more than someone telling me I can’t do something.

--

That night Adam knocks on my door after Lina is asleep. We’ve been sleeping outside by the fire the past few nights, wrapped around each other under the stars, but I’m still mad at him.

“What do you want?” I ask as I open the door.

“Come on, Andie, don’t act like a child.”

I let him in and show him around the small, simple house. When we get to the office, the phone rings.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Andromeda, it’s nice to hear your voice.” Morris is on the other line. “How are your guests?” he asks.

“They are well. Thank you.” I watch Adam as he wanders around the small office before settling in my desk chair.

“Good, good. I just want you to know there will be a Committee meeting tomorrow. Colonel Waters will have to return for a short time. You may use the teleconference as before.”

“Yes, Morris.” I hang up the phone. I should have known he wouldn’t be able to stay here forever. He is the Volker Sovereign. Always busy, always needed. And he’s been here for almost a week. It’s amazing they haven’t pulled him back before now.

“What did he want?” Adam asks, sitting in front of the computer, watching me intently.

“Morris said you have to go back tomorrow.” Adam nods his head. His finger traces the pattern of the wood grain of the desk. He must have known they wouldn’t let him stay long, and that Morris would call soon. But I’m not ready for him to leave. Adam watches me closely, sensing the change in my demeanor.

“Andie...” he warns, standing, walking to me in a few short strides, pulling me into his arms. “Don’t go there.” I just shake my head at him. “Andromeda,” he whispers in my ear. I pull back, staring at him, his eyes, his lips. I’ve never heard him say my full name before.

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“My name,” I tell him.

“Andromeda,” he repeats, using the same sultry voice as before.

Maybe it’s his tone or the heaviness in my heart, knowing he will be leaving. I’m glad he’s never said it before, my full name, not just my nickname. Because there’s something in the way he says it, the way he looks when he says it, it’s like when he was kissing me in the dark hallway so long ago in the basement of the chemistry building. I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself away from him.

He repeats my name, this time placing both his hands on my face, stretching his fingers into my hair, kissing me for the first time since he arrived. He tastes sweet, like I remember. I have that deep stirring, the feeling that I have to have more of him right now.

I don’t think. I don’t want to remember the last two times we were in the bedroom together, when nothing more than heavy kissing took place. I had self-control then. But that was before my husband had a baby with another woman, that was before Crane assured me he would never return. I have no self-control now.

I pull away from him, and gripping the hem of his shirt I pull him down the hall to my bedroom. I close the door. When I turn around Adam reaches for me, placing his hands on both sides of my face, looking intently into my eyes. I can feel him holding back.

“Don’t,” I tell him.

“What?”

“Don’t stop this, not now, it’s bad enough you’re leaving.”

“You don’t want to talk about what happened? The escape. You told me never to touch you again,” he whispers.

And I did, when he told me part of his mission was to find me and escort me home after the initial bombing.

“Shut up,” I tell him as I push his hands away and reach for his shirt, pulling it over his head. I press my palm to his chest. Feeling the scars, his warm skin. I feel something, more than I’ve felt in weeks. A deep twinge in my stomach. I don’t want it to stop. I slide my hand down his chest, over the muscle, skewed from scar tissue. I stop at the button to his jeans. He puts his hand over mine, stopping me.

“Wait.”

“I don’t want to talk,” I tell him, reaching up on my toes, pressing my lips to his. A deep groan emits from his throat as I slide my teeth over his bottom lip. That’s all it takes. He reaches for my sweater, pulling it over my head. My heart rate picks up, the anticipation growing. He’s moving too slow, and it’s killing me. I rip off my remaining clothes and reach for him, just as the moonlight floods my bedroom window. I see it in his eyes, before he even has to say anything.

He pushes me back, his hands on my shoulders. Staring. I’m sure he sees it all. The lumps in my ribcage, the bruises, some of them still purple, most of them varying shades of green and yellow. Even after all these weeks they have yet to heal.

Adam surveys my body. Until finally, his eyes land back on mine. “Andie, what the hell did they do to you?” He asks, his voice strained, regretful even. I’m sure he’s sorry that he left me alone after trying to help me escape, now that he can see what they did.

“I told you already.” I walk to the window, pulling the blinds, sending the room back into darkness. When I return to him, he’s hesitant to touch me, his hands merely hover over my body. “Don’t do this, Adam, not now. If you stop now I will never forgive you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, bending to kiss my shoulder.

I sigh. “Whatever you do could never hurt me, not like they did. Don’t stop, not now.”

He presses his lips to mine. “Okay,” he whispers as he lifts me and sets me gently on the bed.

For the first time in weeks, in months, I let myself feel. Every touch from him, every caress, every kiss. I almost feel alive again.

--

“Do you dream?” I ask Adam, as we lay in the small bed together, tracing the outline of the scars on his chest.

“I try not to,” he responds, twirling a piece of my now long hair around his finger.

“Mine stop when you’re here. The nightmares.” I stop my fingers over the bullet-hole scars near his shoulder.

“Mine too,” he whispers. I lay my ear on his chest, listening to steady thump of his heartbeat.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” I finally admit to him.

“You needed time to heal. These past few days it was all I could to not to carry you out to the forest and have my way with you.”

I prop myself up on my elbow and look in his eyes. He’s serious.

I lay my head back on his chest, hiding the rising blush in my cheeks. I get the sense that I just did something terribly wrong, something terribly selfish. For the first time in my life I didn’t think. I let my body do what it wanted.

I didn’t think about what this would do to Lina, how she would feel seeing me substitute her father for Adam in my bed. It’s been over a year since I last saw him, still, I feel ashamed for breaking my marriage vows.

I pushed Ian away, hoping that it would keep him safe. Now, letting Adam get closer does nothing but put him at risk, since it seems Crane has an agenda for anyone who comes close to me.

Nothing good can come from what I just allowed to happen.

--

Adam is gone before the sun rises, but the guilt still sits like a heavy stone in my stomach.

I get Lina to the schoolhouse, avoiding her questions of where Adam is and when he’s coming back. I’m sure Sam suspects something is up when I don’t look him in the eye. He’s not stupid. He probably noticed Adam never spent one night in their sleeping quarters above the library-house.

I sit on the porch listening to the teachings. Throwing sticks for Stevie to chase. After a few minutes of this Stevie gets bored or tired, and she enters the schoolhouse through the small dog door Elvis put in for her. I glance through the window and see her lay down on the floor next to Lina’s feet.

It’s not long before I get that tingling antsy feeling that I need to stretch my muscles. I walk to the far field, a Guardian trailing behind me. I stop at the water tower. This time I am able to use both arms, pulling myself up the rungs of the sturdy metal ladder. When I get to the walking platform I am out of breath and my weak arm throbs from the climb. I look out in the distance, trying to see anything to the South towards the city. But there’s just a single thin strand of smoke in the sky. Perhaps it’s someone’s fire, a survivor trying to stay warm or cook.

This time the Guardians do not bark at me, ordering me to get down. Instead they wait patiently at the bottom of the ladder and escort me back to the house, once I climb down. Perhaps they are starting to trust me?

I head home.

I can hear the phone ringing from across the courtyard. When I get inside to answer it I’m expecting Morris, since he is the only one who calls me regularly. Instead its Adam’s voice I hear.

“Where were you?” he demands.

“I was climbing the water tower.”

“What?” He asks.

“The water tower-”

“Never mind,” he interrupts. “Morris will call you soon. I just needed to warn you. The titrations are not going well. There has been an incident. I have it controlled for now. You need to start brainstorming. Crane is going to be looking for suggestions on how to deal with this.”

“What happened?” I ask.

There’s a commotion on the other line, someone else speaking in the background. “I have to go.” He hangs up without another word.

I sit at the desk waiting for Morris to call, leaning forward at least four times to press the power button on the computer. But each time I stop myself. “Get over it,” I tell myself and finally turn on the computer. I stare at the screens, waiting. This goes on for hours until finally, Morris calls to announce the Committee meeting.

I slide my chair to the side of the desk, out of the view of the camera. Everyone is seated at the Committee table. And once again Crane takes the long way to his seat, walking in front of the camera so I have to see him. This time my heart doesn’t skip in fear. Instead I feel a sharp pain in my hand and when I look down my knuckles are white, gripping the arm of the chair.

Crane starts the meeting without any opening declarations. He states only the facts. The Orderlies, the faction responsible for keeping the District clean, did not respond well to their titrations. Half of the faction organized an uprising; wandering the streets, confused, searching for answers and the person responsible for all the changes. It took most of the Volker to subdue them. Crane says that the medications will be reinstated, the titrations halted.

“They can’t be medicated indefinitely,” Morris interjects. “This never occurred in Japan, why here?”

Crane clears his throat. “The people, of what was the United States, were brought up with certain expectations of obligation, that society was indebted to them upon their birth but not because they made any contribution. It’s presumptuous actually.” I can hear the disgust in his voice. “In other countries, such as Japan, this thinking is not prevalent. Those people are much easier to please.”

“We could show them what’s left of the United States. Then they would have no choice, they would see how much better they have it here.” Alexander says.

“No. They are not ready to see,” Crane responds. There is a long note of silence, everyone thinking, trying to figure out how to solve this problem.

Suddenly, I know. I know why they responded so poorly to the titrations. I should have remembered from my sociology courses, all the studies I read for those classes. Crane should know this already. If he’s the one responsible for creating the medication. My fingers tingle in anticipation. I want to speak, but I don’t want to talk to Crane. I don’t want to look at him. I can barely stand the sound of his voice right now.

“Colonel Waters will resume around the clock Volker dispatches to ensure order in the District,” Crane continues. I look to the screen. Crane is about to wrap up the meeting. If I want to speak it needs to be soon. Morris is looking directly into the camera, waiting for me to say something.

“They don’t trust you,” I force out, focusing on Morris. There’s silence, the drop of a pen.

“Continue,” I hear Crane’s voice, the smirk in his tone, his arrogance.

God I hate him.

“The medications work at controlling the amygdala, making them cooperative, but the residents will only display cooperation towards those whom they met before the hormones were started. Did you present yourself to them? If you did they won’t trust you, it has the opposite effect.”

“What do you suggest?” Crane asks.

“They need to know who you, the Sovereign, the Volker are. With pictures or something…”  I trail off, thinking of a solution.

“What about a manifesto?” Adam asks.

“Go on,” Crane responds.

Adam continues. “Create a manifesto, detailing the District, the guidelines, photos of the Sovereign, and explain that the U.S. no longer exists.”

“You want us to brainwash them?” Alexander asks.

It’s the best solution really. Adam is a genius. Not only is it easy but non-confrontational.

“It’s decided. Medications will resume until the Manifesto is complete, then we will revisit the titrations. Now that the world outside the District is much different I’m sure you all understand when I suggest haste in all that we do from here on out.” With that, Crane ends the meeting.

My phone rings immediately. Morris’ calm voice is on the other end. “She speaks.”

“Yes.”

“Good, Andromeda. I know that was hard for you.” I don’t respond to him. “Don’t forget. The Funding Entities have asked more of you, the genetic pairings are not your only goal. They’ve been pushing me, asking when you will be ready. I can’t hold them off much longer. You’re better now, not one-hundred percent, but it will have to do. They want you to find the link. Do you remember what Crane told you, what is expected of you?”

“Yes, I remember,” I tell him. How could I forget? Locate the genetic link to pro-social behavior and less dominant personalities, so we can decrease the amount of medication the working factions are receiving, and ensure cooperation with all residents.

“Then I don’t need to stress the importance of you finishing your duties. They want it complete so the Residents are of sound mind and ready to protect the District if need be.”

“They’re giving me a deadline?” Just when I thought I might get some peace out here.

“Spring.”

“But it’s already October, that leaves me only five or six months, this type of research could take years. I don’t know if that timeline is plausible.”

“You need to make it plausible, Andromeda. We live in different times now.”

Morris ends the conversation. After I hang up the phone I lean back on my chair, staring at the white ceiling. Six months. This is impossible. The wind blows a handful of leaves against the window. Winter will be coming. At that moment something drifts to the front of my mind, Lina’s birthday. She will be seven in less than a week.

CHAPTER seven

I start with medical journals; reading and absorbing. The few articles I can find on hormonal modulation of social behaviors are basic theories I’ve read before. The same ideas that led me to suggest Crane introduce the District to the residents in another manner.

I move onto research journals. The reading is fast, there’s not much there. Rewiring the human brain doesn’t seem to be a highly published field of research. Of course, who would be interested in it besides a psychopath like Crane? Since it is customary for research labs to thank their funding sources I’m not surprised to see they are all funded by the same grant and they all thank the same company: Crane Oracle Entities.

It’s easy to see from the few published papers Crane’s been working on this for at least ten years or more. He obviously has money to spare. But the one thing that strikes me as odd is so far he has only succeeded in creating a medication which allows the creation of nonviolent, obliging people. In ten years he hasn’t figured out how to alter their genes to replace the medication, now he and the other Entities expect me to have it done by spring. Of course, I doubt they have ever had a town full of people to substitute for their lab rats. Maybe this was the plan all along. Create the medication, then the takeover, then the human gene alterations.

People as lab rats. I used to work with lab rats, and you know what we did when were unsuccessful? We euthanized the rats. That’s not an option here. These are people. People I have to figure out how to help. But at what cost? I’ve already lost Ian. I still have Lina and Sam. I’m sure that’s just contingent on my success. I’m sure that failure will result in either one of them being taken from me. I have to figure this out. I have to keep them safe.

I hated working with rats. They were always biting me, eating their young, fighting in their cages and they smelled. Thinking of them brings back a flooding of memories from the lab I started in. All it had taken me was less than four years. I had theorized that we had the ability to create genetically enhanced organisms through selective breeding, and minor genetic alterations. I had even tried it, creating a non aggressive, highly intelligent breed of rat. Dr. Drake’s lab assistants couldn’t replicate my work, so I’m sure that’s what brought on his growing distaste for me. He was always arguing with me about costs. The rats, the equipment, the brain scans. I was glad to leave. I just never expected that my life would go full-circle and I’d be playing with genes again.

Brain scans.

Why didn’t I think of this before? It’s not enough to review the data or read all the literature. I need to see what’s going on in there when the Residents are on this medication. I call Morris and order scans of the Residents’ brains. He doesn’t even ask why. He just tells me he will have them sent to me when they are complete.

--

It’s hard trying to sleep with the guilt of infidelity on my mind. I can’t help but feel at fault for betraying Ian, and for being with Adam. But Ian betrayed me first. I keep telling myself this. He has a child already with another woman. He was the first to move on, whether he knew it or not. I’m sure that was one of the reasons that made it easier for me to push him away. It’s not like he knows what’s going on. Crane has assured me he’s medicated beyond remembering. Crane has plans for him. I get the feeling Crane did something else to him, something other than what he’s been feeding the residents. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make what I did feel any less wrong.

The nightmares start again on my second night without Adam. I flick my eyes open as soon as I see the images: Baillie, Crane, the basement. I stay awake, drinking coffee, working into the night, and finding a place to rest when Lina is in school. Lately it’s been the walking platform of the water tower. It’s wide, caged, so I can’t fall off. I don’t have to worry about one of the Guardians shoving their snouts in my face.

Climbing is easier now that the cast is off my arm and I’m hoping all the climbing might help me regain some strength in my weak arm. The benefit to being up there is that I might see something. I can see most of the Pasture, the skyline to the South, the cooling towers of the nuclear reactors near the lake. It’s my perch.

I dress myself in heavy clothes, jackets and scarves, trying to stay warm from the cool fall weather. Elvis notices, stopping me on my way to the fields as I head for the water tower.

“Andie,” he surveys me.

He’s getting that look again. I don’t want to tell him that I can’t sleep because of the nightmares. I don’t want him to think I am so weak that I can’t control them. Before he gets the idea to call Morris and tattle on me I try and change the subject, interrupting him as he starts to say something.

“Lina’s birthday is in a few days. I don’t know what to do for her,” I tell him.

This is actually a truth. After the party Crane threw for her last year and the luxury restrictions now imposed upon us by the Funding Entities, I am lost as to what to do for her.

Elvis smiles. “Come with me. I have something.” I follow Elvis to the large barn where he keeps the firearms. “Did I ever tell you I had a daughter once?” he asks me.

I shake my head no. “What happened to her?” I ask. He has never mentioned having a family.

He looks to the ground. Smiling, remembering. “She was in an accident with my wife. I lost them both. She would be ten this year.”

He walks into a large room that he uses as his office. I’ve never been here before. The room is immaculate with its grey cement floors, rough wooden walls. There’s simple wooden furniture, a white phone on the desk, it must be the one that rings when I don’t answer mine. There’s an old leather couch and a row of gun cabinets. He walks to the tallest cabinet, pulling a box from the top of it.

It seems almost everyone I know here has lost a portion of their family. “I’m so sorry, Elvis,” I tell him.

“It was the past, Andie. I try not to let it haunt me.” He sets the box on the desk. I walk closer to him as he opens it. “Do you think she would like this?” Inside the box is a small wooden bow with matching arrows, undoubtedly handmade, shrunken to the perfect size for a child’s hands. “She hunted with me, on our ranch, every weekend I was home. I made this for her birthday, but… I never got to give it to her.” He runs his hand along the smooth wood of the bow.

I think about Lina’s training. With Adam and Elvis teaching me how to use the weapons, it couldn’t be more perfect. “Are you sure you want to give this up?” I ask him.

“It’s wasting its life here sitting on a dusty shelf in a barn. This was meant for so much more. This was meant to bring happiness to a child. I’ve kept it long enough.”

“She will love it. Thank you so much.” I stop myself as I turn to leave. “Elvis, what did you do before all of this?” I ask him.

He adjusts the brim of his winter cap, looking towards the cabinet of guns. “I’ve always done something similar to this,” he tells me vaguely.

“Similar to what? Running a farm or being a Volker?” I ask, looking into his eyes. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so short. It impedes my ability to pressure people into telling me the truth.

“Let’s just say a little of both. Why don’t you go get some rest, Andie? I hear you have work to do.” He guides me out of his office, placing his hand on my shoulder.

It seems Elvis has his secrets. He runs a farm efficiently and he seems to know what he’s doing with minimal help. But at the same time he is our only Volker out here, our only protection. I highly doubt Morris would assign him out here if he weren’t highly trained. Perhaps he was in the military like Adam, or the CIA, or the Secret Service. Who knows? He’s our bodyguard now and so far I can’t complain about his performance.

--

“Mommy, I’m going to be seven soon,” Lina announces to me as I comb her long hair.

“I can’t believe it, Lina. You’ll be able to drink coffee.” I giggle with her.

“Coffee is only for adults,” she tells me matter-of-factly.

“Is there anything special you would like for your birthday?”

“I was wondering if Adam could make spaghetti. It’s my favorite,” she responds.

That should be simple enough. But, I haven’t heard from Adam in days. Not since the Committee meeting. Not since I broke my marriage vows with him.

He is without a doubt busy, trying to get the Residents under control and re-medicated. Still, it can’t hurt to try. “I’ll call him today, Lina.”

She pumps her little fists in the air. “Yay! I can’t wait.”

I bring her to the school-house, running into Sam on the short walk. He picks Lina up, letting her ride on his shoulders.

“How’s your training?” I ask him.

“Good. I think.”

“I barely see you, besides dinner and school…” I trail off as I see Blithe standing on the porch of the schoolhouse sweeping leaves off the steps.

“Ms. Black runs an intense curriculum. I think this might actually be harder than medical school.” He laughs a little.

I tell them goodbye for the day and return to my desk. Staring at the phone, I try to build up the courage to pick up the receiver. I need to talk to him, but it’s hard knowing we haven’t spoken directly since that night. I need to do this for Lina, I tell myself, her only birthday wish being his secret spaghetti recipe.

Finally, I have a brief moment of courage. I pick it up and ask the operator for Adam.

“Yes,” he sounds distracted as usual.

“It’s Andie.”

“I know. Are you ok?” I wonder how he always knows when I’m calling.

“Lina’s birthday is this weekend. Her only request was for your spaghetti. Can you come?” There is a mixture of voices talking near him, so loud I can barely hear. “Adam?”

“Yes,” he speaks loudly into the phone. “I think I can arrange it.”

“Ok. We don’t have any noodles, can you bring some?” There are more voices, interrupting us. “You sound busy.”

“You have no idea. I have to go now. I’ll see you this weekend.”

I hang up the phone, feeling a little lighter and hopeful that Lina might actually have a decent birthday.

--

Lina’s birthday is in the morning.

I’ve successfully made her a cake from scratch. It took me two tries using an old cookbook from the library-house before I got it right: a homemade vanilla cake with our own flour and eggs. The rest of the ingredients I had to have Elvis send for. Sam is hiding it at his place so she doesn’t see it before dinner.

Getting her to bed was a process, her excitement barely containable.

Now I sit in front of the computer, a steaming cup of coffee warming my cold fingers. I’m not there long when Stevie walks into the office, wagging her tail.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her.

She whines, tilting her head to the side. As she trots towards the front of the house her nails tap on the wooden floor. I get up and follow her. I can see a shadow on the front porch. Stevie jumps up on the door, wagging her tail. I am relieved to see through the window that it’s Adam, his arms filled with bags. I unlock the door and let him in.

“I was afraid you weren’t coming.” I take a few of the bags from his arms and bring them to the kitchen.

“I pretty much had to sneak out,” he tells me, setting the grocery bag on the counter.

“How are the Residents?”

“Under control, they’re back on their medication. Thankfully it didn’t take long. But Crane still wants patrols all night.”

“What’s in the bags?” I open up one of the paper bags to find it filled with boxes of pasta. “How did you get all this?”

I know the District food supply is low. The grocery store is reserved for the Sovereign, stocked only after the Residents receive their rations.

“I told Alexander it was Lina’s birthday. He snuck in a few extra boxes.” He reaches into another bag. “This is for you.” He hands me a heavy envelope. “It’s from Morris, said you requested it.”

I open the top of the large envelope to see what’s inside. Brain scans. I leave the room to place them on my desk. When I return Adam has the bags emptied and he’s holding a small wrapped box in his hand.

“I need to hide this. It’s for Lina,” he tells me.

“You didn’t need to bring her a present.”

“Yes I did.” I point up to one of the tall cupboards I don’t use. He sets the neatly wrapped present on the shelf then turns to me. “I have a bone to pick with you,” he tells me, smirking.

I step back, unsure of what he is talking about. I’ve done nothing more than read and mope around and try to figure out how to alter the human race to meet Crane’s demands. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

I was preparing myself for something worse. Maybe that he found out that I know about the other Districts. “Whatever, Adam, I haven’t been sleeping for years.”

“This is different, you’re exhausted. I can see it on your face.” He folds his arms across his chest, waiting for my response.

Of course I’m exhausted. I have all day and all night to think about how I’m going to help Crane create an army of minions, how I’m going to keep Lina and Sam safe, how I’m going to explain to Ian one day that I slept with another man.

“What are you, my babysitter? I don’t need to explain to you that I can’t sleep. Everyone knows, they just don’t want to say anything to me about it.”

“It’s because you won’t let them.” He crosses the room in a few long strides. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

I want to offer him the couch or the extra bed at Sam’s place. I don’t want to risk it happening again. I don’t want those feelings to come back when he touches me. But he takes my hand pulling me towards the bedroom.

“Adam.” I hold myself still as he tugs on my arm.

“What?” He asks so innocently.

“Before, what we did. I think it was a mistake. I think I made a huge mistake getting this close to you. Once Crane finds out he’s only going to use it against us.” My voice starts to waver. Because I’m nervous, and confused, and I can see what my words are doing to him; they’re hurting him.

His lips spread into a thin line, he doesn’t say anything, he just gives a quick nod.

“Just sleep,” I tell him. I warn him. I warn myself.

I let Adam pull me into his arms, wrapping them around me. And I’m sure he is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. I follow suit and let myself fall asleep to the steady drum of Adam’s heartbeat.

--

“Mommy, Mommy, it’s my birthday today!”  Lina shouts as she runs down the hall. Stevie’s nails tap on the floor as she runs with Lina. I hear her stop and sniff. She must smell the pancakes. “Are you making pancakes?” She asks as she enters the kitchen.

Adam and I sit at the small dining table, sipping at our cups of coffee. There is a tall plate of apple pancakes at Lina’s seat. “Adam, you came!” Lina runs to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Happy Birthday, Lina! I hope you don’t mind I made pancakes.”

“The apple ones?” He nods yes. “Yum!”

Just then there is a knock on the door. I can see from the window that it is Sam. I wave him in.

“Uncle Sammy!” Lina runs to hug Sam.

“Happy Birthday, Lina! I can’t believe you’re getting so big!” Sam picks her up and twirls her in a big bear hug.

They both return to the table and we indulge in the pancake breakfast. I even give one to Stevie, which she lays on the floor with, savoring the pancake with small bites, looking up to observe us. Even though she’s just a dog I know what she’s thinking. We look like a family again.

--

Ms. Black has cancelled classes, not because of Lina’s birthday but because it is time to harvest the crops. Something Elvis can’t complete alone. Once we are done eating we dress in warm clothes and head out to the barn. Blithe and the boys are there, Cashel and Marcus. I watch them as they greet Lina, looking dapper in their woodsman hats and heavy vests. I wonder when their birthdays are, and if we will be celebrating them, or if the ritual of birthday celebrations will become a thing of the past.

It takes us all day to harvest the squash, corn, tomatoes and what’s left of the cucumbers. The Guardians watch us in the field. Some of them, including Stevie, take the initiative to pull a few acorn squash and pumpkins off the vines, carrying them to the tractor carts in their mouths. Everything is brought to the canning barn which contains cold storage and canning supplies.

Over the next few days we will work on canning and freezing all of the food for winter.

By dinner everyone gathers at our house. Adam makes a huge pot of spaghetti and there’s fresh bread from Blithe. Just before we all finish Sam sneaks out to collect the birthday cake from his living quarters at the library-house. There are no candles. Lina still beams with excitement as we all sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her and slice the cake.

By the time we’re done eating and cleaning it is close to bedtime. Blithe ushers the boys out, but not before she reminds Sam that classes resume in the morning and he has work due. With that, Sam hugs us goodbye and the only ones left are Adam and Elvis. Adam pulls the small box down from the cupboard and Elvis retrieves his gift from the hallway. Compared to Lina’s last birthday celebration this is bare minimum. She opens the small box from Adam to find a tiny fairy statue inside. She hugs Adam then runs to her room with it. Next she opens the old box to find the bow and arrow from Elvis.

“Wow,” she lets out in a barely audible whisper of awe. “Am I going to learn how to shoot?” She looks to me and I nod yes to her.

Elvis walks over to her, taking the small bow out of the box and showing her how to hold it correctly. The smooth wood bow fits perfectly in her small hands.

“When you are done with school one day I can show you how to shoot some targets,” Elvis tells her.

“Isn’t this great, mom?” Lina asks me.

“Yes, Lina, you’re a much loved girl,” I tell her.

--

Adam leaves. He doesn’t say goodbye. He’s simply not there when I get done putting Lina to bed. It’s almost a relief. I don’t have to worry about trying to avoid his advances and I don’t have to worry about controlling mine. I feel guilty enough from sleeping with him the first time. It’s already a problem; how I feel when he’s around, how I feel when he touches me. I have no self-control. And I can’t let Crane find this out because he will most certainly use Adam against me. Or worse, he will do something to Adam.

Elvis and I spend the next day canning the freshly picked crops and preparing the food for freezing. By the time we are done everyone’s freezers and cupboards are fully stocked.

That evening Elvis shows Lina how to shoot the bow and arrow. I watch her from a distance as she perfects her stance and shoots her first arrow straight into the ground. She shoots five more times before she hits the target. Not long after that she almost hits the bulls-eye. We all high-five when she is done. Elvis tells her she is a natural.

Since winter is coming, Elvis has the idea to set up a shooting range in one of the barns, giving us the ability to practice over the cold and snowy winter months.

CHAPTER eight

Winter blows in and it’s one of the worst I’ve seen in my life. Part of me wonders if it’s because of the rapid change in the human population, the sharp decrease in carbon dioxide emissions, and the earth trying to recover from the years of pollution which have suddenly ended.

The snow piles up to the second story of each house and Elvis has to get an old bulldozer from town to move it. The Guardians resort to hiding in the barns and our houses. After the first snow storm they all showed up from the far fields and the woods, collecting in the courtyard, their long fur frozen into white dreadlocks. I’m pretty sure Elvis had told me there were twenty of them when we first got here, but I counted at least thirty-five that day. Now there are two Guardians that sleep on the floor in our living room. Most of the time I barely know they are there unless Stevie decides she wants to play with them, which keeps us entertained due to their massive size compared to her.

I work at night and keep myself busy during the day baking bread for everyone and preparing dinners. The only time I sleep successfully is during the one or two nights during the week when Adam visits. He brings supplies from town. I get the feeling it’s the only time he sleeps, too. His eyes are usually heavy with exhaustion and neither of us have the energy to do anything besides curl around each other and fall into a heavy slumber. We still don’t talk about what we did. It’s easy to sense the tension each time he’s here. Still, both of us avoid the issue.

Each day I dwell on the thought that I have a job to do. Not just for Crane but for the Funding Entities. I work for hours, days, weeks, researching pathways, studying the Residents’ behavior from the surveillance videos, reviewing the brain scans. I even order brain scans from the Japanese District. So I can compare the medicated to the non-medicated brains.

And then, it seems to happen suddenly in the middle of the night as I’m staring at my computer screen. I start making the connections in my own brain. All the material I’ve absorbed, weaving it all together. The data, the images, each providing me with the answer I never thought I’d figure out: exactly what Crane wants.

The medication Crane has been giving the Residents has had an extraordinary physical reaction. It’s caused the Residents’ amygdalas to shrink slightly, just enough to prevent the normal responses to anger and fear. Their central nervous systems also contain an increased number of oxytocin receptors, much more than a normal person. This is why they act the way they do. But it doesn’t have a lasting effect. From the scans it seems the brain recovers, slowly, once the medication is stopped. That should explain the uprisings, the confusion experienced by the Residents when Crane ordered the titrations to start. They must have been too quick.

To make this permanent, all that needs to be done are a few DNA alterations using a retrovirus. These gene therapies have been done for almost twenty years now. It’s how they treated breast cancer, cystic fibrosis and a few other diseases. One injection and the Residents are set for life, they become what Crane wants. Cooperative malleable sheep. Then, once he breeds the DNA into the new population, he’s set for life.

My work is almost done. I am responsible for pairing the Residents. Therefore I am responsible for breeding this into the Residents. I am responsible for changing the human race.

For the remainder of the night I stare out into the falling snow mulling it over and over in my head. I will be responsible for these people. I will be guilty for creating a sub-breed within the human race, and for what? To keep my daughter safe? To keep myself safe? To keep Ian safe? Yes the Residents will be cared for, but they will also be responsible for keeping up the District. For cleaning, running the buses, growing the food, everything. And if it ever comes to the time in which the Sovereign are no longer around to protect them, then what happens? These people would happily do whatever anyone told them to do. If this group of people got into the wrong hands, anyone worse than Crane, it could be bad. They could be much worse than just sheep. They could be turned into lemmings, or suicide bombers. This just doesn’t seem right.

The next night I stare at the genetic data lists, organizing them by the soon-to-be tiny amygdala gene. I label them as SH, for subordinate-humans. It’s a crude label, inhumane even, but it’s a label that’s easy to identify within the data.

I pair the Residents, all of them. I create an algorithm which pairs the children of the Residents, and their future children. It only takes two generations for the gene to become dominant. In at least five generations people will have to be transferred to other Districts. There is no way around it. The populations are too small, unless other Residents are chosen from the Survivors of the rubble that was once the United States of America. I wonder if Morris and Adam know that there are Districts spread across the country? I’m sure Crane hasn’t even realized that I’ve figured it out, that I figured it out a long time ago.

--

The data is complete. I’ve been staring at it each night for weeks, double checking the analysis and the program coding. Trying to decide when I will let them know it is ready.

I bring Lina to the schoolhouse, intent on returning home to sleep for just a few hours even though my brain is still buzzing with the discovery I made weeks ago. I walk across the hard packed snow, feeling it crunching under my feet. I stop in the courtyard, looking all around me at the ice covered trees and the high piles of snow. I let my eyes focus at a distance again instead of the close computer screens. If I keep staring at the screens for so long I’m going to have to go back to wearing glasses.

It’s already January and it seems like we’ve received the worst of the snow. We haven’t had a storm in a week. And the high piles of snow have started to compact, shrinking their height. I hear a whistle from behind me and when I turn Elvis is waving for me to come to the barn where he’s standing.

“What?” I ask when I reach him.

“You’re going to have a visitor in a few minutes. I’ve been asked to bring you to the gate. You’re going to need these.” He hands me a pair of thick waterproof gloves and an oversized parka. I’m sure they are men’s size and I don’t need to put them on to tell that they will be huge on me.

“Who’s coming?” I ask.

No one has been here besides Adam and Morris. I haven’t seen Morris in months. I’ve only talked to him on the phone recently for his every-other-day phone calls. I know he still worries about me. It’s evident in the conversations, and the way I still drift off when something sparks the memory of Crane, Baillie, and that musty basement. I know I won’t be well until I can sleep without reliving those four days and without the fear that Crane could still kill everyone I love.

“Don’t worry. It’s someone you know,” he tells me.

We walk to the gate, both of our boots crunch on the hard packed snow. Someone is already waiting when we get there, dressed in a black snowsuit and shiny helmet, standing next to a bright red snowmobile. As we get closer they take the helmet off. I can see it’s Adam wearing quite the hesitant expression on his face.

This can’t be good.

He and Elvis greet each other, shaking hands and patting each other on the shoulder. Then Adam turns to me. “I was told that you need to see the fence.” I step back from them. I’m still not ready to leave this place.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“The Funding Entities, they want you to see it. You’ve been making them worry. They think it will help,” Adam tells me.

“You speak with them?” I ask him.

“No. Morris delivers their communications-“

“But you still follow Crane’s orders?” I interrupt him.

“Let’s just say we humor Crane. We don’t answer to him. Just ask Elvis.”

I look to Elvis who nods in agreement to Adam’s statement. He picks up a second black helmet and holds it out for me. I step back again. I will not be forced to leave, or coerced…

“Andie, we are just going to the fence, we will be back in less than an hour,” Adam tells me.

“You two aren’t giving me a choice, are you?” I ask them both.

Elvis sets his face in a grim expression. Adam shakes his head a little. “Andie, you haven’t left here in months. Months.”

I point at both of them with each of my index fingers. “This is bullshit.”

“Andie,” Adam pleads, “it’s just one hour.”

I stare at them, thinking. The fence doesn’t seem that bad, as long as we aren’t passing the cement wall and going into town or to Crane’s headquarters on campus. I shudder as I think of the Chemistry building where he kept us for almost a year. Slowly, I reach to take the helmet from Adam.

“One hour,” I tell him. “And if you don’t bring me back I might take that gun off your hip and shoot you.” Adam looks at me, troubled. I’m sure he never expected for me to threaten him. I don’t care. Even if he was the one who trained me to shoot. I don’t like being forced into this.

I put on the heavy parka which hangs down to my knees. Adam helps me with the helmet and the gloves, then signals for me to get on the back of the snowmobile. I barely hear the engine start, and when we move I’m not bombarded with the acrid stench of burning oil and gas. This must burn some other fuel that’s odorless and runs the engine almost silent. I wrap my arms around Adam for stability and comfort, and for the first time since we arrived in the Pasture, I leave.

“See you in one hour,” Elvis tells me as he waves then locks the gate securely behind us.

As I turn around, watching the entrance to the pasture shrink, my heart beats faster and faster in my chest. Adam drives the snowmobile down the hidden driveway and I don’t turn around until he pulls out onto the road. I’m surprised to find the roads are not cleared, but packed with the same heavy snow as we have in the Pasture. It feels colder out here. The icy air ripping through the gloves and parka chill me to the bone almost instantly. It doesn’t last long before I am flushed with a flash of heat and sweat. I’m sure it’s from my rapidly beating heart, the panic of leaving for the first time. Between the winter air and my sweating episodes, I’m sure this is how a menopausal woman feels at the height of her change. I feel something tapping on my hands. It can only be Adam. I ignore him. Trying to focus on my breathing, trying to slow my heart rate and make the sweating stop. But he keeps tapping on my hands which are locked around the front of him.

“One hour, one hour, one hour, you can do this,” I whisper to myself. I hear the loud crackle of static in my ear.

“Andie? You’re squeezing the shit out of me,” I hear Adam’s voice in my helmet. They must be equipped with radios. I hope he didn’t hear me talking to myself. I loosen my grip around him, realizing that my arms and fingers ache from how hard I was squeezing.

“Sorry,” I tell him.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” It’s all I can say as I try to focus on controlling the panic.

“We’re almost there. Just a few minutes.”

I decide to look over Adam’s shoulder, to watch the path ahead of us, and there is a distinct snowmobile trail cut into the snow. They must have been patrolling the fence all winter long. I’m not surprised it was never mentioned in any of the Committee meetings. Of course, it could have been. Lately I’ve just been turning the computer on and leaving the room, not caring about what they discuss. That’s probably why Morris calls me so often. But there has been no word of Survivors finding us. Nothing since Sam showed up right after the bombings. Still, I don’t bother to ask Adam what the tracks are from. I could care less right now. I just want to return to the safety of the Pasture walls.

I hear a loud humming noise. It’s strange. I can even hear it through the thick helmet. I watch the trail noticing that there is a clearing ahead of us. Bright morning sun is glinting off the snow. Adam slows the snowmobile as he reaches the clearing. He turns to the right, coming to a stop. I stare at the tall chain-link fence topped with tight curls of barbed wire in front of us. It’s at least 500 feet away. It’s at least thirty feet tall. And the strangest thing is: there isn’t a speck of snow anywhere near it. Instead, the snow drops off in high banks, straight to the dry dirt ground.

Adam stands up and removes his helmet. Then he reaches forward unclipping my chin strap and pulling the helmet off my head. “Are you ok?” I didn’t even notice my heartbeats had slowed and the sweating had stopped while I was staring at the fence.

“Fine,” is all I can say.

“Impressive isn’t it?” Adam asks. “Just don’t touch it.” He warns.

I remember what he told me, about the recruit trying to escape during training and burning to a crisp after touching the fence. Back when we had a Runner. Before the bombings ruined anything we could need from outside the gates.

“Why does it hum like that?” I stand, walking towards the snow bank, stopping just before the snow disappears. There’s a straight drop down to the dirt. I turn my head, my ear towards the fence, letting the loud hum from the pulsing electric current bounce off my ear drum. As I stand there, I notice it’s not only loud, it’s warm. I pull my gloves off and hold my hands out as though I were warming them by a fire. After a few moments I pull them back pressing my fingers to my cheeks, they are warm, much warmer than they were before.

“It’s powered by the nuclear reactors,” Adam interrupts my observations.

I know from Ian that the reactors here create enough energy to power most of the state. Now, I’m sure that there is no electricity running outside the fence. The town and farms don’t use much power, and even though this fence must stretch for almost ninety miles encompassing our county, this fence is being powered with far too much electricity. No one in their right mind would go near it. I realize this is why no one found us, or bothered to enter once they did. I look up and down the fence, noticing a few charred objects hanging off it. Something that looks like it could have been a squirrel, trying to leap over the fence in the treetops, but missing and hitting the fence, fried beyond recognition.

Adam reaches down, picking up a handful of snow, and forming it into a snowball.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Just watch.” He reaches back, snowball in hand, and flings it at the fence. But the snowball never makes impact. Instead it melts midair, ice to water to vapor. Complete phase changes in just a few seconds.

“That’s both incredibly amazing and incredibly wrong at the same time. I don’t even want to ask how you knew that would happen,” I tell him.

Adam laughs, walking over to me.

“It gets boring out here.” Crane must have been sending him out specifically to check the fence. Adam picks up my helmet, standing close to me. I’ve forgotten about my panic, but now my heart is racing again, for another reason. “Boring and lonely,” he bends down, kissing me. His lips cooled by the winter air. I’m sweating again. I hate it when he does this to me. The moments of intimacy he sneaks in after I told him what we did was a mistake which can’t happen again. He’s never pressed further, just a few kisses here and there. It’s not that I don’t enjoy them. I just know that what we are doing is wrong. It’s going to get us into trouble. After a few moments he pulls back, smiling. “Time’s up,” he puts the helmet back on my head, tightens the chin strap, pushes the thick gloves on my hands, then gets back on the snowmobile. All without giving me time to recover from his impromptu kiss.

He returns me to the Pasture, keeping his word of only an hour. Elvis waits for me at the gate, walking me back to the house, as Adam returns to his post at Volker headquarters.

CHAPTER Nine

Morris is on the phone. “The doctor will see you,” he tells me.

“He’s coming here?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Today. He should be there soon.”

“You could have warned me, Morris. I haven’t even showered.”

“Get to it then. Adam will be escorting him to you.”

My heart flutters a little. I try to push that feeling away. I guess I’ll work a little harder at making myself presentable. If Dr. Akiyama sees me looking like a recluse he might actually commit me for being crazy. I hang up the phone and run for the shower. I turn the hot water up as far as I can tolerate, trying to warm my fingers and toes, which are cool and icy from the winter air.

I dig through my clothes settling on a pair of black leggings, my tall boots, and a heavy brown sweater. I do my best to dry my hair, but it’s too heavy and long from almost two years without a haircut. I should really do something with it. Maybe I’ll ask Blithe for some help. Her hair always seems to be perfectly arranged. I settle for a simple braid. Just as I finish I hear a knock on the door.

“Where’s the doctor?” I ask Adam as I open the door letting him in with a puff of cold blowing snow.

“He stopped to see the children and Ms. Black. He’ll be over in a minute.” He stares at me noticing my apprehension. “I wanted to warn you. They want you to leave this place. Go back to the town, the hospital. They need help.”

“Help with what?”

“Crane expects the women to start delivering soon.”

I shake my head in disappointment, at the situation, at myself. “I could never bring a child into this mess,” I tell him. “It isn’t right. What Crane and the Entities have planned, forcing them to have children and re-build the population. No child should ever have to enter into this, how the world is now.”

“I agree,” is all he says, nodding his head at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. There’s a knock at the door. “That must be the doctor.”  Adam opens the door letting Dr. Akiyama in. Adam walks outside leaving us to talk alone.

“Would you like some tea or coffee?” I motion for him to follow me to the kitchen.

“Tea would be nice. It’s very cold out.”

Dr. Akiyama takes off his heavy parka and gloves, hanging them on the back of the kitchen chair. I set a tea kettle on the stove and get two mugs out of the cupboard. I search for the canister of teabags, trying to ignore the awkward silence.

“How have you been feeling, Andromeda?” Dr. Akiyama asks me. His voice sounds slightly cheerful with a hint of skepticism.

“Please, call me Andie. I always feel like I’m about to get yelled at when people call me Andromeda.”

“Ok then, Andie.”

I sit at the table across from him. He looks older already. Running a hospital seems to do that to a person. No matter how small it may be. When I worked in the city at in the NICU, I remember our latest CEO had grey hair within two years. It went straight to white within the next two years after that.

“I see you’ve gotten your cast off.” He points at my arm.

I look down at my arm. The cast has been off for months. I haven’t thought much about it. “Yes,” I tell him. “Colonel Waters cut it off for me a while ago.”

“Morris is concerned about you.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do about it, about how you’ve been acting?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m not going to beat around the bush. I know you’re not stupid. You know what's wrong don't you? Why you feel like you do, why you can’t seem to leave this place, why you can’t sleep, the nightmares?” He’s only the second person to confront me about my sleep.

Sleep aside, I do know what’s wrong with me. I’ve always known deep down. I was trained to recognize it in nursing school. We were in-serviced for years afterwards since the war on terror had re-started and the veterans started showing up at the hospital to recover. We would see them roaming the halls of the hospital at night. Sometimes they would escort us to get coffee. Happy to protect us as we ventured out into the big city at night. Young attractive men back from war with only one problem: post traumatic stress disorder. They could barely function, they couldn’t sleep, they scared people. Plenty of young nurses got reprimanded for having relationships with them. These young men were barely holding on, the last thing they needed was a romantic relationship.

Admitting it to myself, after all this time, I say the words out loud.

“Yes, I know. It’s post traumatic stress disorder,” I tell Dr. Akiyama.

But I feel like a fraud. I never went to war. This happened to me at home as I fought to save my daughter, as I lost Ian, as I tried to escape. This is the aftereffect. This is what it did to me, what it made me. After everything Crane and Baillie did, and then the bombings. Watching them, I think, was what did it even though I was so far away. I knew what was happening out there where we used to work and shop and spend weekends, knew that Sam was out there, that Adam was out there, all the unsuspecting people being blown to bits as they ate dinner or drove home from work. Watching the bombings was the worst. Almost worse than fearing I had lost Lina.

Dr. Akiyama watches me. My face, my expressions, my eyes, as I think about it all and relive it in just a few minutes. A shiver runs up my spine.

“If this were a few years ago I could prescribe medications to help,” he tells me. “I can’t here. We don’t have them anymore.” I nod my head at him in agreement. “You need to talk to someone about it, about it all.” He pauses, waiting. He must be expecting me to talk to him. But I don’t want to. He may have stitched me up, and mended my broken arm, my broken body. But he’s still one of Crane’s minions. I don’t trust him.

“What else can I do?” I ask.

He sighs, realizing his trip may have been in vain. That he may not get me to leave as Crane must want. “You need to face your fears. You have to take what was dealt to you and adapt.” He no longer sounds like a supportive doctor, but a man with a deadline hanging over his head. Crane must be pushing him to get me out of here, to get me working again. Little does he know I’ve already finished my task. “Did you hear me, Andie?” He pulls me out of my thoughts. “You need to face your fears, now.” He crosses his arms.

I sit and ponder his statement. What am I afraid of? I’m afraid of losing Lina. I’m afraid of Ian waking up and remembering everything. I’m afraid he’ll see us moving on without him. I’m afraid of sleeping alone, with no one to wake me from my nightmares. I’m afraid they’ll come true, every single one of them. But I can’t face any of those. I’m afraid to leave this place. To set foot outside of the Pasture gates. That seems simple enough, going somewhere. I already went to the fence with Adam. And I survived that. Maybe I could handle the lab, or the hospital…

I thought I was just having the conversation with myself, in my mind, but I find the words mumbling off my lips.

“Actually, I would be grateful to have your help at the hospital,” Dr. Akiyama responds to my mumbling. “I could use your help in the delivery room. You have a clear mind. The other medical staff don’t react as fast as I need them to. It’s that medication they’re on.”

I mull it over for a few moments. I could be productive again. Doing more than just computer work, forcing myself to stay awake at night, and sleeping during the day. I could almost be human again. Maybe going to the hospital could be the right step to getting back to normal.

CHAPTER ten

Today is my first day in town.

Adam escorts me. The drive consists of Adam at the wheel, and me with my eyes closed, breathing deeply, trying to control the panic and not to lose it completely. The knot twists and turns and pulls.

The hospital is bustling with patients and medical staff. I can see them through the glass doors as we walk to the main entrance. People turn to watch slowly as we pass through the front door.

"Why are they staring?" I whisper to Adam.

"They're not." He places his hand on my back, ushering me through the spotless hospital, following the signs for the elevators.

"Has anyone told you, you are a particularly bad liar?" I tell him.

I catch his response, a small smile.

We continue to the elevator and down a long hallway to Dr Akiyama's office on the labor and delivery floor. He greets us, seeming genuinely happy to see me and handing me a set of green scrubs.

“I’ll check back with you later,” Adam tells me as he brings me to an employee locker room to change.

“I want to be back before Lina is done with class,” I remind him.

He nods as he leaves me to change.

I dress quickly, stashing my clothes in an empty locker. I wander the hall waiting for Dr. Akiyama, stopping in front of the nursery which has a large glass viewing window. There are three babies, wrapped in white blankets, on display for whoever is walking the halls.

I notice someone watching me from the doorway across the hall. She’s wearing a hospital gown and robe. It can only be the mother of one of these babies. She doesn't even try to hide the fact that she’s watching me. Finally I turn around to confront her.

"Can I help you?" I ask her.

She looks familiar. I think I might know this mother. I think we might have gone to high school together.

"You’re the Matchmaker aren't you?" she asks me.

"How do you know who I am?" I've never been called this before and it sounds strange but eerily accurate.

"Everyone knows who you are. Your picture is in the Manifesto. But you look different, thinner maybe.” She turns to the babies in the nursery. “Are you choosing now?"

She must be talking about the genetic pairing. Now I’m wishing I had taken a look at the Manifesto when Elvis dropped it on my doorstep to see what Crane wrote in it about me and to see who these people think I am.

“No. It's much too early,” I tell her. I don't tell her that it has already been decided by the program I made. Her child, and her child’s children, it’s already been determined. Soon they will all get their injection, with the DNA altering vectors.

She smiles at me and looks back to the babies. "You’re a good person. I can tell,” she tells me. “I trust you'll make a good choice for my son.”

Her comments sink in my stomach as though I swallowed a bag of rocks. If only she knew the truth. I simply smile back at her and then walk, as fast as I can without running, back to Dr. Akiyama’s office.

--

No one was in active labor so Dr. Akiyama had me assess the newborns and help two of the mothers breastfeed their babies. Now I find myself standing around trying to waste time until Adam shows up to take me home. I don’t like the feeling of being left with my thoughts in this empty hallway. The only reason I agreed to come here was so I wouldn’t have to think about everything, so I wouldn’t be left to ponder, this was supposed to be my distraction.

This is not distracting.

I decide to say goodbye to the Doctor and change back into my normal clothes. I find my way to the front entrance, hoping Adam might be there to take me back to the Pasture. And he is. I notice him by the front door but I stop myself from walking to him, taking in the scene before me.

He’s standing near the corner of the entrance talking intently to a young woman. A beautiful young woman with high cheekbones and straight blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. I back up against the wall trying to hide myself as I spy on them. She’s wearing a Volker uniform. But since I’ve never seen a female Volker before, she must be a new recruit. I watch as Adam smiles at her and she smiles back. Their conversation is hushed, and they move closer together, in unison. They watch the people around them, out of the corner of their eyes, making sure no one can hear them.

Once again my panic sets in: the sweating, the racing heartbeat. But this time there’s something else. It’s not simply the panic of leaving the Pasture and allowing Adam to escort me into the middle of town. No, it’s not simply panic, it’s jealousy. I don’t know why the scene before me has this effect. Adam and I never promised anything to each other. Since the District was formed, he’s the closest thing I’ve had to a best friend. Someone I can confide in, someone who watches out for us and keeps the nightmares away as I sleep. I wonder if spending so much time with him has been a mistake. I really have no idea what he’s doing with his free time when he’s not at the Pasture with us, which is often. And I’m sure if he can make my heart flutter like a teenager, he probably has no problem doing it to other women.

I lean my back against the cool brick wall and take a few deep breaths. I don’t want him to know that I saw them. I breathe deep, relaxing the muscles in my face. I feel like I can’t let him know that I saw them. Once I think I have myself collected, I step out and turn the corner of the hallway, slamming directly into a tall man, the opposing forces knocks me backwards onto the floor.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man apologizes to me as he reaches down, offering his hand to help me up.

Once again the room fills with silence as everyone turns to see me scrape myself off the floor. I can feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment. So much for collecting myself. So much for staying calm. So much for sneaking up behind Adam and finding out what he’s talking with that beautiful woman about.

I stand, collecting myself, and notice Adam walking swiftly towards me.

“I’m so sorry,” the man repeats.

“It’s fine, really. It’s my fault. I’m just clumsy.” I smile at the man, noticing he is wearing a dark red uniform and carrying a broom. He must be with the Orderly faction, responsible for keeping the District clean. He leaves me to recover, wandering down the hall, whistling to himself.

Adam pulls up next to me. “What happened?” he asks eyeing the man.

“Nothing, we just collided. I’m fine, really.” Adam looks me over. “I need to get back to Lina. Can we go now?” I ask him impatiently.

He escorts me out of the hospital. This time I don’t wait for his leading hand on my back or his playful banter. I walk ahead of him, turning only to watch as he salutes the female Volker.

“New recruit?” I ask when we get to the car, trying to control my voice, ensuring it’s even, cool tone. I don’t want him to know that I saw their furtive conversation.

“Yeah, we’ve had a few who just finished training,” he responds casually.

That’s all he says as he starts the vehicle and pulls away from the hospital. I’m not sure why I was expecting him to divulge some more information. He’s good at hiding things. I know this from experience. I just hate that I have to doubt my trust in him again.

As Adam drives the truck I close my eyes, letting him think it’s the panic taking over again, and not my anger at seeing him with her.

“What’s wrong?” He asks from the driver’s seat.

“Nothing,” I lie to him. “I’m just tired.”

We complete the drive in silence.

When we get to the gates of the Pasture I have that swelling feeling in my chest. The one telling me that I need to get back inside, back to Lina, where I’m safe. I try to control the urge building within in me. I can only assume it’s similar to an addict trying to deny drugs for the first time. I squeeze my eyes shut, and take a deep breath in. I can’t do it. I jump out of the SUV as soon as Adam stops to open the gate. Not waiting for him to drive in, I follow him when he gets out and walks to the gate’s keypad. I want to climb the fence and run to the schoolhouse porch.

“In a hurry?” Adam asks.

Watching the curls of steam rush out of his mouth with his words, I realize how cold it still is outside. I really should have waited in the running vehicle where it was warm.

“I have to get back inside, like, now…” I tell him.

I rub my arms, trying to control the rising panic. I can feel the Pasture pulling me back, tugging at my skin. The smell of the frozen fields and the warm barns blows through the gate, beckoning me. Adam nods and continues with the gate, brushing the fluffy coating of snow off the keypad and pulling the gate open. I step through, my panic calming slightly, as I get my feet back on the Pasture grounds. I turn to Adam, who makes no attempt to follow me.

“Was it like this for you?” I ask him. “After the Middle East, with what happened to you?”

I watch him tense at my question. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, especially without preparing him first. “Yes.” He pauses for a long time, breathing more heavy curls of vapor out of his mouth into the frigid air. “It’s just the dreams now.”

I can only imagine his dreams, how bad they must have been, and how bad they are now. With what they did to him to form all those scars on his chest. Whatever happened to him was a thousand times worse than what Crane did to me. I walked away with a few broken bones, too many bruises to count, and a collapsed sense of self. At least I don’t have bullet holes in my chest.

CHAPTER eleven

“Mom, are you going back to the hospital today?” Lina asks as I stare at the swirling coffee in my mug. I told her that I was going last time. Just in case anything happened. I didn’t want her surprised that I had left.

“I don’t think so, but if I do I will be back before you’re done.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “I promise.”

We dress in our heavy coats and boots for the short walk to the schoolhouse. I don’t like leaving her here for the day. Even though I am so close here at the Pasture with her, I would rather have her closer, nearby in case something happened. I want her within arm’s reach so I can take her and run if we need to.

I don’t even get back home before I hear cars driving down the ice crusted driveway. I turn and wait on the porch for them to stop, noticing that a few of the Guardians have exited the barn, and have lined up in the frozen courtyard.

I can see Adam and Morris through the front windows. It’s strange that they are in separate vehicles. I’m not sure why Adam and Morris would drive separate or why they would be here at the same time. But as the morning sunlight beams through the SUV windows I see why. The second vehicle has children in it.

--

“For the training program,” Morris tells me as I stand on the porch watching them unload. “I’m sorry, Andie, we couldn’t wait any longer. They need to start their preparation.”

I watch as Elvis helps them out of the tall SUV, three more children, taken from their families. I’m not sure why this bunch is affecting me so much. I barely blinked when Cashel and Marcus showed up. But these children are much younger.

“Two boys, Ira and Lex, age five. And a girl, Astrid, she’s four,” Morris says as he watches me. He coughs loudly into his hand a few times.

“Are you sick?” I ask him.

“No. I’m fine. Just the cold air.”

I watch as the children filter into the schoolhouse. The little girl, Astrid, starts crying. I see Lina get out of her chair and rush over to hug and soothe her. I decide to wait and introduce myself to them. I’m sure they’ve been through enough already, the last thing they need is another stranger greeting them in this new place.

The day is a busy one. We search the barns for furniture and set up the houses to accommodate three more children. Adam and Sam move furniture. Morris strongly suggested we continue to keep the boys and girls separate. So Astrid moves into our house, while Ira and Lex go with Blithe and the boys.

Astrid is a sweet little girl, following Lina around, acting shy, barely speaking. Lina is so excited to have a friend in the house that she stays up late reading to Astrid long after she has actually fallen asleep.

As I leave them for the night, tucked soundly into the twin beds which now fill Lina’s room, I hear a faint knock on the front door.

It’s Adam, waiting on the porch. I want so bad to ignore him. I’m still angry from witnessing his conversation with that woman. I was a lot angrier earlier. But that feeling wore off as I watched him all day, moving furniture, helping with the children, catching my eye while talking with Elvis. I had the time to remember him kissing me in the icy forest and showing up with bags of groceries for us. I had the time to remember the look on his face when he saw the bruises from Baillie. Yes, it’s easy to ignore him, or be angry with him when he’s not around. It’s another thing when I feel his energy near me, smell his scent, when I get to watch him being helpful and gentle with the children. It’s easy to be confused when he’s near. Much too easy.

I don’t get the chance to say anything to him when I open the door.

“Are the children asleep?” is all he asks. When I nod yes to him, he’s pulling me close to him, pushing the door closed with his foot. I know what he’s after, by the feel of his hands on me, the way he pulls at my clothes, his slight throaty groan as he takes over my mouth.

“Stop,” I whisper to him, pushing at his chest, trying to ignore that feeling he gives me. “I told you, we can’t.”

He ignores me, pressing his lips hard against mine and running his hands up my shirt, making my stomach quiver. That's all it takes for me to forget everything that's been weighing on my mind. The second his lips touch mine, I forget it all. This is what he does to me. He is my drug, he is my wine, he is the one I can’t push away. He lowers my inhibitions to the point that I think I have none. I do things I wouldn’t normally do. If only he didn’t cloud my mind so, I might be able to stop myself.

I wish I could say I pushed him away, that I told him to leave, for the sake of my sanity. For the sake of Ian when he wakes up, so Ian doesn't have to deal with my sins. But I didn't push Adam away. I pulled him closer. I pushed my lips back onto his. I wrapped my arms around his tense shoulders. I let him have his way with me.

--

I was nervous about it, but getting two little girls ready for the day isn’t much harder than just the one. Astrid pads silently behind Lina through the hallway, to the kitchen for breakfast, and back to the bedroom to get dressed. All without a word. Her eyes wide, watching us, trying to figure out if she can trust us. Morris didn’t send many clothes for Astrid and since it’s still cold outside I layer some of Lina’s old clothes over her.

Just as I close the door behind us, I hear the shower start. Adam must be getting ready. I expected him to be gone with the sunrise, as usual, just as I expected that guilty feeling to jab a little softer in my gut. But neither of those happened this morning.

When we step outside its warmer. And then there’s the smell-spring is coming. The classroom looks strange now, with six children and Sam, looking out of place amongst them. Lina takes Astrid’s hand and brings her to the desk next to her own. I hug Sam and leave a loaf of fresh bread with Blithe.

I step out onto the schoolhouse porch. I look around, thankful that the winter is almost over. I can see Elvis driving the small tractor out to the far field, probably to open the fence so the horses can run in the sun. I see a stream of Guardians walk out of the barn, headed for the gate. This can’t be good. They only do this when it’s someone they don’t know or danger. I have to think fast. Elvis is too far away to call for and Adam is in the shower. Blithe is with the children and that leaves me, just me, to face whatever is at the gate. It’s time for flight-or-fight, and since I’m not going anywhere, I guess it’s going to be the latter.

I run to the office where Elvis keeps the guns, pulling a pistol out of the gun cabinet and a handful of bullets. I jog down the drive way loading the pistol along the way. I can see the trail of Guardians trotting ahead of me. They stop, forming a straight line across the driveway. I see the gate slide open, just a little, and a dark figure steps through. I can’t tell who it is. The shade from the trees outside the gate is obscuring my vision. The figure walks forward, closer to the Guardians, and as I stop behind them I instantly recognize who it is. Crane.

My heart starts racing. I blink a few times, just to make sure I’m actually seeing him here. It’s him. All suit and tie and orange hair. He waltzes up to where I’m standing. Nothing about him has changed. He’s still wearing the black suit, a red tie, his hair looks a little longer, the kinked curls a little more obnoxious. He smiles, his white teeth reflecting the sunlight. I was stupid to think we would be safe from him here.

“Ah, Andromeda.” He opens his arms, greeting me, as though I may step into his embrace.

I can feel the sweat starting to coat my forehead and underarms. The wind blows, sending a whiff of his sweet scent towards me. I swallow hard, trying not to focus on the churning of my stomach.

He just stands there, smiling at me. “You’re not going to greet me, Andromeda? That’s not very nice of you.”

I don’t greet him, instead I raise my arm, aiming the pistol between his eyes. The Guardians form a circle around me, their teeth bared at him.

"I’m not afraid of you anymore," I tell him as I drop a bullet into the chamber, trying to keep my breathing even, trying to hide the fact that I’m currently terrified, that my nightmares are coming true.

"I sense that, Andromeda." He clasps his hands in front of him, still smiling, waiting. He says nothing. It’s like he’s waiting for me to say something. And I do. I say something that has been weighing on my mind for almost a year now.

“I found the extra samples you know. Last year. Before you blasted the United States into the sky,” I admit to him.

“I figured you would.”

“I know that there are other Districts, Crane. Did you think you could get that information past me? That you could just slide in thousands of samples and I wouldn't notice? I can count.”

“I knew you were a smart girl.”

“Who else do you have working on the genetic pairings?”

“Lucky for you, Andromeda, your methods are unique. I've tried to train others to do what you do, but they don't get it.” He shakes his head at me. “They can't grasp your intuition when it comes to selecting genes. Somehow you use more than just scientific fundamentals. That's why I chose you.” He pauses.

“What are you doing with the other Districts then?”

“They are just tiny bits of society, reformed, like this District. We had to preserve a few cultures, sort out the best of mankind. Continue the vitality of the human race.”

“Who’s running them?”

He smiles, pausing, letting me figure it out on my own. I already assumed it would be him. “We do, of course… and the Entities.”

“You’ve never discussed them before. Why?”

“Well, Andromeda, look at you, your current state. I can’t risk you falling any further into your rabbit hole, just look at what’s it done to you already. When you are ready it may be discussed, we shall see. Until then not a word of this information will be uttered.” He looks at me hard and threatening. Then in an instant his face changes, to display excitement or pleasure. “Oh, I almost forgot. I need to congratulate you.”

“For what?” I snarl at him.

“You’ve done it. You’ve found the pathway to help the Residents. To transform them!” He smiles, shrugging his shoulders and clapping silently. His giddy schoolgirl act.

What a freak.

How could he know? I have told no one. I have not told a single soul. There’s only one way he could have found out. I should have figured. I’m so stupid.

“You have access to my computer, don’t you?” I ask him.

“Just think of it, Andromeda, in fifteen-twenty years, it will be just perfect. I can see it now, can’t you?”

“Yeah, Crane. I can see it. You, running an entire population of people who do everything you say without a question. It must be a relief after dealing with me.”

I want to run back to my computer and delete it all. I want to stop him. I want to pay him back for tricking me. He got it all out of me without me even knowing. The pathway and the pairings, just like he wanted. I created the program, the timeline to match the Residents, now and into the future. Generations of Residents have already been paired based on their children and the children after that. I never wanted him to know.

I look to the Guardians, who only watch him intently. Frankly, I was hoping they would attack him and rip his throat out.

“You like them, don't you?” He eyes me as I observe the giant dogs. “You know why they are so protective of you and of our little Catalina?” He smiles, waiting for my response. But I don’t give him the satisfaction of one. I narrow my eyes at him until he continues. “Because I created them.”

“That must make you a fucking genius or something then, huh?” He smiles wider. “If you ever show up here again I won't hesitate putting a bullet in your brain. I don't care who you think you are," I tell him.

He smiles, and bows a little at me. “Until next time then,” he replies.

He turns and starts walking towards the gate. I control the undying urge to shoot him in the back as he walks away. For some reason, aiming a gun at Crane and threatening his life, knowing that I might have a little control over him, it helps me feel better. It helps me feel a little more in control of my own life.

Another knot string loosens.

When I turn around, Adam steps out from behind the barn, his hair messy and wet and the short spikes starting to freeze in the cold air. He saw the whole thing. I take a few deep breaths, waiting for my heart to slow, waiting until I hear the gate creak closed. I stomp over to Adam, placing the loaded pistol in his hand.

“Make sure the gate is locked,” I tell him as I turn and dash back to my house.

I run up the steps and into the house, slamming the door shut. The front windows chatter in an angry vibration. One of the Guardians is sleeping in the hallway and lifts its head at my commotion. My heart is beating too fast. I’m angry, so angry that Crane found his way here. It must have been the transmitter. Adam must not have smashed it in time. He must have gotten our location from that. He must have known all this time, plotting when he would show up and surprise me. I kick at one of the kitchen chairs, knocking it over. Now I’m wishing Adam would have trained me to fight last fall. I look at my weak arm. The muscle has almost returned over the winter, from shoveling the heavy snow, I guess. But it’s still slightly thinner than my other arm and not as strong. Nothing would have beaten the satisfaction of punching Crane in his stupid freckled face. I pace the kitchen, clenching my fists, trying to calm myself down. I hate this. I hate all of it. I hate every second of this new life Crane has blessed me with.

I hear the front door open and close. I know its Adam, here to check on me. But there’s something brewing inside me, something I’ve been meaning to confront him about. I’ve done this before, gone after Crane and then lashed out at Adam. I don’t know why-the adrenaline maybe. I have to use it all up and get everything out.

Adam walks through the kitchen doorway. “Are you-” he stops. He must sense my impending wrath.

“Now, I have a bone to pick with you,” I tell him. “I see there are some new women in town, Adam. You have quite the striking co-worker. Did you think I wouldn’t notice her and that you've been spending a lot of time together?” I cross my arms over my chest, preparing myself for an argument.

“She's new. She's training to manage the University Volker…” I simply stare at him. “It's nothing, Andie.” He scowls at me. I watch the frozen tips of his hair melt in the warm kitchen, small drops of water trickle down the side of his face. I look away from him, staring at the wall, collecting my thoughts.

“She is unpaired you know. So are you,” I tell him. “Would you like to make a request? You never know, she could be your perfect match.”

“Would you stop it? There's nothing between us.” I look back to him and search his eyes, but he looks away. “I don’t know how you do this, Andie, yelling at Crane and then turning on me. It has to stop. I’m here to help you. I’ve always been here for you.” He gives me one last long look, and turns, grabbing his jacket off the chair.

“You should have trained me to fight like I asked!” I yell at his back. But he doesn’t respond. He leaves, slamming the door closed behind him.

I peer out the window, around the curtains. Adam and Elvis are standing in the frozen courtyard. Adam keeps shaking his head. He points to the gate and then back at my house. He’s filling Elvis in. I step back, hiding from Elvis’ gaze. When I look back out the window, Adam is walking towards his vehicle and Elvis is just staring up at me.

I don't know why it upsets me so much, thinking of Adam with another woman. We never promised anything to each other. The first year of our relationship was based on a lie, one that I only forgave because I realized he was lied to also. But the jealousy is still there. And I think to myself, if I had fought harder for Ian, if I still had my husband, if I was a good wife and had stayed away from Adam when I sensed what was happening between us, I wouldn't be stuck in this situation right now.

CHAPTER twelve

When I wake in the early afternoon, my back stiff from sleeping hunched over, my face on the desk, there’s the familiar sound of alarms. It’s the sound of the emergency response sirens our town would test every few weeks in case there was a nuclear emergency. I wonder how long they’ve been going off? The phone on my desk rings and I answer it before the first ring stops.

“What’s happening?” I ask before anyone can speak.

“Andie, it’s Morris.”

“Is there an emergency? Why do I hear sirens?” I stand, slipping my feet into my boots, getting ready to run to the schoolhouse for Lina.

“Haven’t you read the Manifesto yet?” He asks, stopping me. “The alarms sound when there is a problem with the electrified fence. It’s only receiving half power right now.”

“Why? What happened?”

“There was a reactor coolant pump malfunction. We had to shut down one of the nuclear reactors.”

The fence was receiving more than enough electricity. I’m sure even at half power it has sufficient current to fry any living thing that comes in contact with it.

“But we are still safe? From whatever is going on out there, where the bombings were,” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Then what’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”

“Crane sent out an executive order,” he pauses.

“For what?”

“I’m sorry, Andie, you’re not going to want to hear this. But… he’s removing Ian’s medications, effective immediately.”

I twist my finger around the phone cord so tight the tip of it turns white. Ian has been the nuclear engineer out there for years. It would only make sense that they would need him to fix the problem. The medications must have been inhibiting his work. That or Crane just wants to punish me for pointing a gun in his face. Either way, if Ian is going to wake up, then he’s going to be asking questions, and he’s going to be looking for us.

“Are you still there?” Morris asks.

“Yes.”

“You might want to start reading that Manifesto, Andie. It’s important, for all of us-not just the Residents.”

Now I’m fully awake, even after barely napping. The thought of Ian struggling with all the changes-just like we did after he was taken from us-it eats away at me. I turn my computer on searching the data and the pairing program I regretfully created. I’ve been doing this for days. Double-checking, making sure there are no errors in the code, and checking other pathways. I just have to make sure I got it right.

I tell myself I’m just being thorough. But I sense that it’s a worsening of my condition or maybe it’s my way to cope by trying to control the data in front of me since my life is spiraling out of control.

--

Adam visits now and then, staying for dinner, chatting with Sam and Elvis, giving me looks. It's always tense and the heaviness of unspoken words lingers all around us. We no longer have time together to discuss anything. He’s angry with me and I know it’s for accusing him of having a relationship with that other woman. He’s definitely done worse to me. Like escorting me back to Phoenix, anticipating something horrible had happened and lying to me. Still, I found it in myself to forgive him for that.

I spend my nights staring at the data and the unopened Manifesto that lies on my desk. Sometimes my thoughts shift to Ian. Imagining him locked away somewhere, recovering from the effects of the medication as it wears off, unstable from the hormones Crane was pumping through his body to keep him complacent and cooperative. I imagine it can’t be good. Ian’s never been the violent type, not a fighter. He was always better with his words. Except for that one time in college. We went out drinking with friends. I was on my way to the bathroom and another co-ed took it upon himself to grope a little. I was so drunk I wouldn’t have noticed, until I heard Ian’s voice behind me. I turned around only to see him punch the other guy in the face, knocking him out on the dusty bar room floor. I’ve never seen him do it again. But I wouldn’t put it past Ian to try and fight his way out of this. Look at what happened to the faction they tried to titrate off the medication. Of course, it’s easier to subdue one man than dozens. I’m sure he’s trying to remember, fighting the memories, and whatever they are telling him. I wonder if he’ll remember us?

--

As winter turns into a damp spring, I spend my few morning hours helping Elvis get ready to plant the fields. I sort seeds, label seedling tags, and fill planters with soil. Sometimes I kill time at the shooting range Elvis and Sam constructed in the tool barn. Then I find a place to nap before it’s time to get the girls from school.

After a few weeks of this Adam finally shows up, unannounced. I’m at the range, envisioning shooting Crane between his putrid green eyes. As I finish, I turn to leave, finding Adam in the doorway carrying a bag over his shoulder.

At first I just stare at him, unable to form words. Surprised that he’s here and may actually want to speak with me after I accused him of consorting with that woman. He must have the District under control because he’s out of uniform, on a weekday, which barely ever happens.

“What are you doing here?” I ask through the tension in the air.

“I came to see if you were busy,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips.

I look away from him, at the tools tacked to the walls. I can’t trust myself. I can’t trust him, not with those charms he uses on me.

I was about to find someplace to sleep. I’m sure he can tell from my eyes that I’m back to not sleeping. But then again, when I take the chance to look back at his face, he looks the same.

“I just got done here,” I tell him. “What are you carrying?”

He smirks, looking to the objects he has tucked under his arm. “Today you learn to fight, hopefully better than a girl.”

I watch him, trying to figure out if he’s serious. Last time I asked him he told me I wasn’t ready. That was before winter started, before I formulated the method to create Crane’s minions, before I aimed a gun at Crane’s face and threatened his life. Maybe Adam was listening last time we spoke, when I shouted to his back that he should have taught me to fight when I asked. I’m not sure why he wants to start now. Nothing’s changed. I haven’t been strength training like he suggested. I’ve been baking bread and shooting guns and pouring dirt. I look down to my weak arm, squeezing it, trying to contract the muscle. It’s still slightly smaller than my right arm, but barely so. On second thought, maybe kneading bread and shooting guns has helped.

“Why now?” I ask turning my attention back to him.

“You’re ready.” I don’t know why he thinks I’m ready now, all of a sudden. Not much has changed, besides the seasons. “Let’s get started.”

“Where?”

“Here’s fine.” We both look around the tool barn. It’s large and open. All of the farm tools are hung on the walls or kept neatly on shelves. But I can’t help remembering that the last time we were in here together: I was clawing the transmitter off of his body, begging him to smash it.

“Here, put these on.” Adam hands me a pair of padded gloves, elbow pads, and knee pads.

“Where did you get these?”

“I borrowed them from the Volker training yard.”

I place the padding on my elbows and knees. I get one glove on but struggle with the other. I turn my back to Adam, trying to pull the glove on with all my might. But it’s my weak arm that’s doing the pulling, and the glove is too bulky for me to grasp. I don’t want him to see me struggle. I don’t want him to see how weak I still am. And I definitely don’t want him touching me.

“Here, let me get that.” I whip around, about to yell to him that I don’t need help, but instead I slam right into him, not expecting him to be standing directly behind me.

“Why do you always have to sneak up behind me like that?”

“Sorry. I was always told in training that it was a gift.” He grins at me.

I don’t know what it is about him. His smell. His eyes. The way he looks at me. Why did he have to shave and show up here looking all desirable in his fitted black shirt and jeans? He’s looking at me like he used to, before I accused him of seeing another woman. I take three steps back. I tell myself I have to keep my distance, that I have to continue to be angry with him. That’s the only way I can get through this training, because I know he’s going to have to touch me, and I’m going to have that feeling, that tingling fire feeling. Then my mind will go to the gutter, or the bedroom, and right now, I’m not sure which is worse.

“Hold out your arm and I’ll fix the glove,” he offers.

I want to tell him not to touch me but I can’t get the glove on myself. I hold my arm out, the padded glove hanging off my fingers. He grasps the cuff, pushing it up my fingers, my hand, my lower arm, dragging his fingertips across my skin the entire way, as he gets the glove in place.

I pull my arm back and turn around so he can’t see the blush on my cheeks as I secure the Velcro strap of the glove. Once I’m sure I have settled, I turn back to face him noticing that he is not wearing any padding.

“No protection for you?” I ask him.

“I don’t need it.”

“Is that because I’m a girl, or because I’m a weakling?”

“A weakling wouldn’t have pointed a gun at Crane’s face. I underestimated you. I shouldn’t have. But… you’re still a girl, so no padding for me.” He starts to laugh but I lunge forward, raising my arm in jest to hit him in the chest. Just before my fist makes contact he backs up, the only thing I punch is the air where he once stood. “See, I told you, no padding for me. Now let’s get started.”

Adam instructs me starting with cross punches, telling me to push off my back foot, twist my hips and shoulder, punching his open palms. I do it over and over again until my arms burn. Then he moves onto kicks, instructing me where to kick, how hard, where to keep my feet. By the time he’s done with the kicking instruction I’m dripping with sweat even though the barn is unheated.

I walk around the open space, fists on my hips, trying to catch my breath, wishing I had a bottle of water with me. I laugh a little to myself, realizing that before all this, a normal person would have paid big bucks to have a Marine train them how to fight.

“Doing good. Want to spar a little? Put it all together?” Adams asks, rubbing his hands together.

I’m so tired I can’t decide if it’s a good idea or not. “If you think that will help.”

He motions for me to stand in front of him. I throw a few punches and a few kicks, but I’m slow from exhaustion and it seems like Adam is moving in slow motion to compensate for me. It makes me angry. I don’t want him babying me.

“What’s wrong, afraid to fight a girl, Adam?” I tease him, trying to get him to put more effort into it.

“If that’s what you want, Andie.”

Then he comes at me. I’m sure it’s not full force but it’s enough to get my heart pumping again. I throw a few punches but he easily blocks them, as well as my kicks. I can tell he’s waiting for the right chance to teach me a lesson, and I give it to him. Just as I’m about to circle around him he throws his foot out, kicking my feet out from under me. Just like Baillie did. Only this time I fall forward, not backwards, catching myself on the padded gloves. When I hear footsteps coming towards me all I can think of is Baillie in that basement beating me to a bloody pulp. The barn is too much, the cement floor, the smell, it sends me straight back to those horrific four days. I roll onto my back, squeezing my eyes shut, and shielding myself with my arms and legs expecting Baillie to punch me or kick me. And when I feel pressure on my shoulder I scream for him to get away from me.

After a few minutes I am able to calm myself and look around the barn, re-orienting myself. It’s when I catch Adam staring at me wide-eyed from across the room that I realize what happened. A flashback. But he knows how this goes. We’ve talked about it already. The only difference between my recovery and his, was that he got to recover in a cushy government hospital, while I tough it out on a farm trying to raise my child and keep myself sane when the world has crumbled around me.

“Sorry.” I sit up, winding a stray piece of straw around my finger as I sit on the floor.

“Maybe sparring was pushing it for today.”

It was. I should have known when he mentioned it. I look to the clock on the wall. Lina will be done soon. Lina. I have to remind myself this is for Lina, to protect her. I have an idea.

“I want you to train Lina.”

“Why?” He asks. “She’s only seven.”

“Because… because I don’t ever want her to be afraid, like I was, like I am, ever.”

He just nods his head in agreement. I know he understands my reasoning, without me saying much. He would want it for his own child, for them to be able to protect themselves. She needs it now more than ever, especially since Crane now knows where we live.

--

I expect Adam to go back to town. But he sticks around, talking with Elvis and Sam, meeting the new children Morris brought. We all meet for dinner at Blithe’s house. Since most of the children are staying there she has the most room and table space. Everyone pitches in, serving, eating, and cleaning up. Then we all trickle off to our own houses to get the children and ourselves ready for bed. By the time Lina and Astrid are sound asleep and tucked into their beds I can barely keep my eyes open. I don’t even hear the knock on the front door. The only reason I know someone is there is because of Stevie’s pacing and the Guardian’s expectant looks. When I open the door Adam is standing on the porch, shielding his bare neck from the freezing night wind with the collar of his jacket. Against my better judgment, I let him inside.

“I thought you would go back,” I tell him.

“I have some time to use.”

“Do you get vacation or something?”

“Or something...” He looks around the living room.

I try to remind myself that I’m mad at him. “What do you want, Adam?”

“To talk,” he responds, slipping off his jacket and hanging it on the coat hook by the door.

“I’m too tired to talk,” I respond. Which is actually an understatement-this is the most exhausted I’ve been in a long time.

“I know.”

“Then what do you really want?” I step back away from him and away from the heat radiating off him, out of his reach. He doesn’t answer. I know what he wants, a place to sleep. Or other things. “I’m too tired, Adam.”

My emotions are out of control from being awake for over a day. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want to sleep. But I know I can’t because the nightmares will start as soon as I close my eyes. I know it’s going to be a bad night and I should probably sleep outside where I won’t wake Lina, but it’s so cold out there. I don’t even know what to do with myself. I resort to shaking my head in my hands and inhaling deeply, trying to hold back the warm tears.

“Andie.” I hear his footsteps as he walks towards me.

I know I should step back or tell him to leave. But when he wraps his arms around me, I can’t. I just stand there, pushing my nose to his chest, breathing in the smell of his shirt. When he reaches down to pick me up, bringing me to the bedroom, I don’t even struggle. I let him lie me down on the bed, resting my head in the crook of his arm. He pulls the heavy blankets over us and wraps his other arm protectively around my abdomen, tucking his hand under my hip, molding his body to mine.

Just before I fall asleep I conclude that he must have planned this, coming here, exhausting me so I would have no choice but to let him in. Because he needed to sleep, and I needed to sleep, and nothing keeps the nightmares away better than when we are together.

CHAPTER thirteen

It’s my third day of learning how to fight, and I’ve realize how bad I really suck at it. There’s nothing worse than a girl who’s barely five foot two and a hundred pounds, trying to fight a grown man who’s twice her size. Unlike learning the weapons, I recognize this is going to take a long time.

Adam has stopped kicking my ass for five minutes and as we rest for a moment I remember there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask him. Things I’ve wanted to ask since I watched the bombings from the top of the water tower.

“What was it like out there? Before the bombings and after, what happened while you were out there?”

He sits on an empty bucket, his face now downturned, serious. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the way down to North Carolina was easy. Everything was normal. No one knew about Phoenix. Or they just didn’t seem to care. Flocks of people had already left the city.” He stares at me as I listen to him. “I told you I was on a mission that night in the woods when I was trying to get you out of here.” I nod at him.

I remember the night like it was yesterday. Adam helping me and Lina escape. We stayed up all night, walking for hours through the woods to the train. Back when the District had a Runner. Back when we were able to get supplies from the outside world. Adam had just informed me that he was on a mission, and part of his mission was to find me and bring me back to Phoenix. Just now, I remember he said something strange, that he didn’t plan on falling for me. I was so angry that night I don’t remember much of our conversation. I mostly remember wanting to smack him across the face for lying to me and for bringing my daughter into this. But without him I would have never found Lina. And I’m sure if I had never found her, or seen the state Ian was in, I would be surviving in less of a shell than I am now. I’m sure living with all the unanswered questions would be worse than knowing what happened to them. The worst part of that night, the part that changed me forever, was just as we were about to make it outside of the fence. Crane found us, stopping the train, ripping me away from Lina to teach me a lesson: that I can never leave the District.

Adam continues, “There was chatter at the CIA. The security threat alert was its highest since 9/11. They were expecting something, they just didn’t know what. I made the runs on Crane’s agenda, dropped the package for the Funding Entities. It was postmarked for Sweden. I was supposed to meet my contact in the post office but he never showed. Well, until he stumbled across me waiting by the train. He had been shot and he was mumbling something about not having time, that it was starting now, that he had found other Districts.”

I sit up straight, fully alert now. He knows. I thought I was the only one.

“He said there were three that he had found. Someone was watching him and put a bullet in his chest to shut him up. He said that the Districts are the only safe havens for those that were chosen, the only safe places to escape the bombings. The president, the U.N.-it’s global, starting with Japan, then the U.S., I just don’t know where next. But by now, I’m sure it’s already done.” He exhales loudly, breathing out all the strength it took to hold this information in for so long without telling anyone.

“So do you meet with your contact again?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “My contact died. I have his old cell phone but the battery is dead. On the way back, during the bombings, the phone still worked. That’s how I found Sam. Whatever network it was connected to survived the attack. But I haven’t left here. I’ve had no communications with them. I was supposed to find out who the Entities are and report back to President Berkley. But I’m not sure if he’s even the president any longer.”

“How did you not get hit with all those bombs?”

“The tracks are secluded and the train is very fast. Crane refurbished the tracks and I’m sure he did so already knowing where the missiles were going to drop.”

“I could see the bombs flying through the air from here and smoke over the treetops,” I tell him. “What did it look like, afterwards?”

“All I could see was smoke rising in every direction. The city was pretty much flattened. And when I went looking for Sam… I was afraid he was already dead, there was nothing left of his apartment. The only thing that kept him safe was he had been assigned to night patrols, watching the blockades for anyone trying to head north to Phoenix. He saw everything and could do nothing. There were holes in the ground, body parts, houses gone, survivors wandered in shock.”

“What did you do?”

“I grabbed Sam and we ran back to the train. We ran as fast as we could, back to you and Lina.”

“So now what? Are you still on this mission?”

“I still have a job, Andie. Actually I have two. I’m the Volker District Sovereign and I’m not sure what’s left of the U.S. government but I still want to know who the Funding Entities are. I want to know how far this has spread.”

“Why are you telling me all this, Adam?”

“Because we’re in this together, you’re the only one that I can trust.”

I simply nod my head in agreement. However, I don’t tell him that I know there are at least five Districts.

--

It takes the entire weekend but we get the seedlings in the ground. Adam stays to help. For some crops it’s just the plowing of the fields and dropping seeds. For other’s it’s more labor intensive. Trellises and stakes have to be set, and the seedlings supported. It’s hard work for four adults and six children. When all the work is complete, on Sunday, Elvis surprises us with a whole pig for dinner. He digs a hole in the ground and roasts it in the dirt. I’ve seen this done before but never actually eaten the meat. It’s delicious, smoky and juicy. Paired with the pickled corn and buttermilk biscuits I can’t seem to shove enough of it in my mouth. When Elvis brings out the homemade ice cream, all the children squeal with excitement.

We stuff ourselves with the feast until the spring night comes. Then we rush to clean up the tables in the courtyard before the chill of night arrives. Sam mumbles something about having homework to do and wanders back to his place above the library-house. Blithe and I take our children home and ready them for bed, leaving Adam and Elvis to finish the rest of the duties.

“Mommy?” Lina asks as I get her ready for bed.

“Yes, sweetie.”

“I like it here.”

“I do too,” I smile at her and kiss her nose.

“Mommy…”

“What’s wrong, Lina?”

“I miss Daddy.” She looks down to the owl in her hand, petting its head.

“I do too, Lina.”

“Will we ever see him again?”

“I hope so. But I don’t know when. Just remember, your Daddy loves you, Lina. And even though he can’t be with us right now I know he’s thinking about you. Does that help you feel a little better?”

She nods her head yes, then lays down, clutching the small owl to her chest. I pull the heavy covers over her, pulling them under her chin as Stevie hops on the bed and curls up next to her. “I love you, my little Catalina.” I kiss her one last time before I walk over to the other small bed to pull the covers over Astrid. She’s already fast asleep. Thankfully she didn’t hear Lina.

I sit in the rocking chair by the door. Rocking a little, thinking about her question, wondering what Ian is doing right now. All I can envision is him locked away in some musty basement, just like Crane held me in, trying to figure out what is going on around him. His other child should be almost one by now. The thoughts pull up too many memories and I have to stop myself. I stare out the window until I hear the steady breaths of Lina sleeping, then I get up to leave the room.

Adam is in the hallway, waiting. I wonder if he heard our conversation. If he did he doesn’t let me know right away.

“Elvis is going to hang a punching bag in the barn so you can practice.”

I open my mouth to speak to him, but it fills with thick saliva, and then I have that feeling, the sour churning in my stomach. I’m going to throw up. I’m not sure if it’s from all the food I stuffed myself with, the conversation with Lina, or the thoughts of Ian’s new life. Either way, it sends me running to the bathroom with just enough time to heave up the delicious dinner, ice cream and all. I didn’t have time to close the bathroom door behind me, and as I wash up Adam walks into the bathroom.

“Are you sick?”

“I don’t know, it just snuck up on me.”

“Were you drinking wine again?” The corner of his lip starts to rise into a clever smirk. I’m sure he’s referring to when I tried to seduce him but ended up drunk and puking up a bottle of wine, one of my more embarrassing nights.

“Go away,” I tell him, pushing hard at his chest. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

When I’m finished cleaning myself up I find Adam in the living room. He’s looking at something in his hand, placing it in his pocket as I enter the room. He holds his hand out pulling me down onto his lap, like he used to, before we were sinners.

“I have to go back you know,” he tells me.

“I know.”

“I don’t like being away from you.”

“You mean, you like being able to sleep at night?” I twist his words so they don’t sound so serious. So it doesn’t sound like he might desire me as much as I do him. Because I know this is wrong, what’s brewing between us, it’s all wrong.

“No, it’s more than being able to sleep Andie.”

He reaches into his pocket, pulling something out. I notice a small chain with something dangling off it. He reaches around the back of my neck, clasping it. When he removes his arms I look down to see a small metal owl charm dangling off the thin chain. Bright blue stones create its jewel eyes, tiny feather wisps are etched into the silver form.

“She was a jeweler, before she was a Volker,” he tells me. I try to think of who he’s talking about, the female Volker from the hospital, who I got jealous about. “She made this for me. I asked her to make it.” That explains the hushed conversation, the secret smiles. “Years ago, when we were traveling back to Phoenix, and we stopped at that tree house, I saw you with Lina’s owl. I…” he stops midsentence, trying to find his words, possibly remembering all we’ve been through together.

Now I feel like an ass.

There’s nothing I can say. I just bury my face in his neck, and wrap my arms around him, trying to end his words. Thankful that he doesn’t say anything more. That he doesn’t push for this relationship to be more than it is: two people trying to hold onto something normal, running from our pasts, trying to cope with the present.

CHAPTER fourteen

Halfway through spring something starts to change in me. I’ve been training for weeks. I should be getting stronger, but I feel myself getting weaker. I feel more tired. I can’t help but sense there’s something wrong with me, that I’m sick, that I sustained permanent damage to my vital organs during Baillie’s attack. Or worse, I’m finally going crazy.

I drag myself to the hospital to talk to Dr. Akiyama.

“I don’t feel well,” I tell him.

He raises his eyebrows at me. I’m sure he thought he was safe. That he got me well so Crane wouldn’t be breathing down his back.

“Well?” he asks me.

“Something’s wrong. I’m tired, too tired.”

“Have you gone back to sleeping at night yet?” He gives me that look. I’ve seen it before from Doctors. He’s busy, too busy for this. He wants to brush me off. I shake my head no at him. This is different. “Are you eating?” He inspects my face, glancing down my frame and back up. I shake my head yes at him. He sighs loudly. “Then let’s run some tests.”

It’s not the answer I was hoping for, but it’s a good place to start. Dr. Akiyama draws the blood himself. Three tubes, to test for everything imaginable, I’m guessing. That or he’s a vampire.

“I’ll wait for the results,” I tell him.

“I was hoping you could go down to the nursery. There were twins born this morning.”

I leave his office, heading for the newborn nursery. And there are twins-identical boys wrapped tightly in hospital blankets, sleeping peacefully in their bassinets. I take a stethoscope off the hook on the wall and look through the paperwork hanging off their bassinets. The first set of twins for the Phoenix District. I listen to their hearts with the stethoscope, their lungs. Inspect their fingers, toes, the shape of their spine. They are perfect.

“Are my babies okay?” I hear a soft voice behind me.

When I turn I find a young woman standing behind me. She can’t be much older than I am. Her eyes heavy with exhaustion, the pale hospital gown making her skin look translucent.

“They are perfect,” I smile at her. “Congratulations.” I wrap up the baby that I was assessing and hand him to her. Then I help her push the bassinet down the hall to her room.

Just as I’m telling her goodbye Dr. Akiyama walks up to me.

“Come with me,” he tells me before he turns, walking down the opposite end of the hall from his office.

“Are my results in?” I ask him as I catch up, skipping a few steps to match his stride. All I hear is an odd noise, a grunt maybe, coming from him. Either the findings are not well, or he’s mad I wasted his time with my concerns of being tired. He takes me to an exam room, closing the door behind him. “We need to do a sonogram, to check something.”

My heart starts to beat faster. “I knew something was wrong,” I tell him. “Is it my kidneys, my liver? I’m sure they sustained permanent damage from what Baillie did to me.”

“Just lie down and pull your shirt up.” He motions to the examination table by the wall. As I lay down he pulls the sonogram machine over, squirts a blob of the blue jelly on my stomach and presses the wand to my abdomen. First he runs it over my liver, then down to my kidneys and a little bit lower. I watch the look of concentration cover his face. He says nothing, just watches the screen with intent.

I was never trained to review sonogram images in nursing school, so I didn’t pay much attention to what Dr. Akiyama saw as he passed the wand over my stomach. But as he watches the screen, pressing the wand near my bladder, the deepening crease in his forehead starts to worry me. I turn my attention to the screen. And I’m sure my heart stops at that moment, because there is no way I could prepare myself for what I was about to see. I knew what it was in an instant, because anyone who has ever had a baby knows what the tiny fluttering heartbeat looks like on the sonogram screen.

I’m pregnant.

“No!” It’s all I can whisper out. I reach over to the cart where my file lies, pulling the lab results out of the folder. I rip them into a hundred pieces, and then shove them in the pocket of my jeans.

“Andie, wait,” Dr. Akiyama tries to stop me.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I tell him as I push the wand away and clean my stomach off with a towel. He watches me, a look of confusion on his face. “Delete the images now.” I jump up, hovering over him, watching him scroll over the image files, deleting them in sequence. “You can’t let anyone know, do you hear me?” I’m sure he can hear the rising panic in my voice.

“It’s hard to keep secrets here, Andie.” He looks at me, solemnly, after he’s deleted all the images.

I have to make him understand, right now, that no one can know about this.

“Someday, Doctor, you will need something from me. A wife, a child, grandchildren, their pairings. My decision will rest on your ability to keep this to yourself.”

It’s a threat I never anticipated ever having to make to anyone, but this can’t get out. It will be just another thing for Crane to hold over my head, for Ian to find out about, and Adam had agreed with me, he would never bring a child into this.

Of all the mistakes I’ve made in my life, I’m sure this is the worst. Just assuming I wouldn’t get pregnant. Because Ian and I had tried for so long without success, the doctors figured there was something wrong with one of us. But we never pressed the issue, we focused on Lina.

I try to think back of the last time I was with Adam. How long has it been, four, five weeks ago, when they brought the children?

I’m sure Adam would never suspect that he brought an extra child to the pasture, a child in its purest form, that of two gametes.

Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

Part II

The Manifesto

CHAPTER fifteen

I stare at the thick pamphlet on my desk. Manifesto of the Phoenix District is written across the cover in thick block letters. I have to read it. Morris has been asking me for days. No, for weeks. I open the stiff cover and start reading.

It starts with an opening paragraph about the world outside:

Few of you may know what happened to the United States last year, as you were protected within the walls of the Phoenix District. An unknown entity is responsible for the obliteration of the United States. The world super power that was once is no more. The United States is now a desperate wasteland, destroyed by bombs and human indifference. You have been chosen to live a life of protection and value. Agreement to the guidelines listed within this guide will ensure your place within the District. If at any point, you wish to brave the violence and destruction of the world outside our walls you may leave. Remember, we only protect those who will preserve the integrity of the Phoenix District.

I do my best not to burst out laughing. All this is, is a listing of vague propaganda. Crane knows who is responsible for the destruction of the country. I’m sure he is one of the main culprits. And since no one has ventured outside the walls since the bombings that occurred almost a year ago, who knows what it’s like out there.

I scan through the rest of the pamphlet.

The section titled District Sovereign contains a paragraph of explanation.

The positions of District Sovereign have been assigned for your protection and safety. They will carry out duties of the sciences, humanities, medicine, research, technology, District guideline development and faction management.

There are pictures of the current Sovereign and the factions they are responsible for managing. A holy picture of Crane, who looks even more ridiculous than usual. Morris looks respectable and so does Alexander. My picture is next. I stare at the photograph, not ever remembering one being taken. This looks more recent than any of the pictures that were at the house I shared with Ian. I focus on the background, which is slightly blurred, but I can make out a few things, a glass door, a black countertop, a large white freezer. This was taken in the lab, when I was sorting the residents, completing the genetic pairing.

That bastard Crane was watching me the whole time. He must have taken the picture from the front of my computer screen. I am no longer filled with the light laughter bubbles from reading the opening phrase of the Manifesto. Instead I’m filled with anger so strong it tingles in my fingertips.

I move onto the description underneath the picture.

Andromeda Somers

District Sovereign              Matchmaker

Solely responsible for the genetic pairing of District residents and ensuring the vitality of future generations.

I read the line over at least three times. I guess I should have read the rough draft when Morris begged me. I can’t think of anything worse than all these people thinking I am their matchmaker. Just look at me. I gave up my husband to save my daughter, who in turn has lost her father. I ruined my marriage vows and worse I’m pregnant in a relationship that’s mostly based on lies, awkward situations, and sporadic nights of intimacy. I am the world’s worst choice for matchmaker.

I flip to the next page and find a picture of Adam dressed in full Volker garb with a stern look on his face. I stare a lot longer than I should. I’ve never seen him make this expression before. I’m sure it was all for show. To keep on Crane’s good side, so he can continue to figure out whom the Funding Entities are and how far this has spread.

I stare at the picture a little longer. I wonder if this is the same expression he will give me when I tell him I’m pregnant with a child he never wanted. With a child I never expected to have.

“I’m pregnant, Adam,” I tell the picture out loud. Expecting it to respond to me, maybe talk back. This is the moment I realize, I truly am crazy.

I turn my attention to the blurb underneath his picture.

Colonel Waters

District Sovereign              Head of Volker Faction

Responsible for maintaining the integrity of the District and protection of District Sovereign

I give up on talking to Adam’s picture and move onto the next page. It’s entitled Sovereign Children’s Training Program.

In the event in which your child has shown exceptional intellectual ability, they will be chosen to participate in the training program. This program provides them the opportunity to receive an individually tailored education preparing them to become the next generation of District Sovereign.

After that there are pages of what to expect as a new Resident, the testing, assignment to a faction and housing, the ages appropriate to receive genetic pairing. I start on the guidelines which I helped create. All I can remember is Baillie arguing, Crane’s pre-determined guidelines, these were barely determined by the Sovereign as a whole. I give up, closing the pamphlet and hiding it in a drawer so I don’t have to look at it and so Lina doesn’t find it.

I find it odd that there was no mention of the other Districts, or the convict Faction. I wonder if Crane will warn the Residents if they are caught participating in suspicious activity that they will be assigned to a life of medicated bliss and hard labor?

This Manifesto is a Declaration of a loss of our world. It’s real now, more real than the bombings. Our children may never remember, but we will. There will be no more shopping malls, no more fancy dinners out, no more homes buzzing with electronics, no more choices. This world is far different than the one I was born and raised in. The realization makes me ache even more for my old life. At least back then I knew what to expect. I knew how I would grow old and who I would be growing old with.

Now, everything seems so undecided for me, mostly because the decisions are out of my hands. There is no worse feeling than not being able to plan on your future, because it’s already been decided upon.

--

“Crane has called a committee meeting for this afternoon,” Morris informs me. “Can you come down to Headquarters?”

I want to tell him no immediately. Instead, I take my time deciding. Before I was afraid I might run into Crane, but he’s already found us. He knows where we are. As if pointing a gun in his face wasn’t bad enough, I’m sure showing up down there, proving to him that I’m no longer afraid of him, even if I still am, will drive him crazy. I need to start taking some control.

“Sure,” I tell him.

“I’ll send Colonel Waters to collect you.”

I get myself ready. I shower and put on my usual black slacks and sweater, then twist my hair into a loose bun. This will be the first time I’ve seen Adam since I found out. Since I got the test results and had the sonogram. I still haven’t worked up the courage to tell him. I’ve found the courage to avoid him though and it’s been a few weeks since I saw him last.

I stand in front of the mirror looking at myself from the side. Thankfully nothing is showing. With all the weight I’ve lost out here I’m hoping it won’t show until I get the guts to tell him that this is his child.

I take a bag with me. I fill it with a bottle of water and some homemade bread. I’m hoping to avoid throwing up again if they serve lunch-once was enough for today. I stop by the barn to tell Elvis my plans for the day then walk to the gate to wait for Adam. I turn around noticing that there are two Guardians following me. Usually there is just one trailing behind me where ever I go. It’s much less intimidating than having a whole pack following me like they used to, when I wandered the Pasture like a ghost after arriving here.

I wonder why two now? I haven’t done anything to worry them, have I? Then I realize they must sense it, they’ve figured out that I’m carrying a child. I hope no one else takes such quick notice.

I shoo them away as I hear the vehicle pull up on the other side of the gate. They don’t go far. They just wander behind a shrub where I’m sure they’ll wait for me until I get back. Then they will continue to follow me around.

The gate slides open and I can see Adam on the other side, pushing the heavy iron.

“That’s far enough I’ll just walk through,” I tell him. He stops short, not expecting me to be waiting for him. I never wait at the gate. Usually he picks me up by the house. I rush past him and get in the passenger side of the black SUV and watch him as he pushes the gate back into place and locks it.

“Are you feeling all right?” He asks me as he climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

“Fine, just… I just want to get this over with.” Which is true, I’m not looking forward to sitting back at that table. Making decisions again. Looking at Crane’s freckled face.

The ride to town is quick and Adam drives down Main Street. I watch out the window in awe. I didn’t see this last time because I had kept my eyes closed, trying to control the panic of leaving the Pasture. But everything here has changed. All the houses have been painted white. The lawns clipped short, gardens growing in the empty lots. Workers sweep the sidewalks and streets. Volker patrol on foot, greeting passersby, still with guns strapped to their hips. My town has never looked so clean, so put together, so quaint. The Residents on the streets smile. The children play. A bus drives by us filled with people either on their way to work or on their way home.

“What happened here, it all looks so… so…?” I can’t seem to find the words to describe it.

“So much like a Rockwell painting?” Adam chirps in. “Were you expecting rioting and gunfire? Crane has better taste than that. The Manifesto worked-quite well actually. It’s amazing what happens when you give people the choice to live outside the walls if they aren’t happy here.”

I’m not sure what I was expecting. Something dreary, more dismal. I feel like I’ve been on another planet these past few months.

Adam pulls slowly into the Headquarters parking lot. This hasn’t changed much. The building still looks the same, the sign remains the same. The only difference now is the Volker guards that stand at attention near the front doors. There’s no turning back now. I take a deep breath in then jump out of the SUV, not bothering to wait for Adam. Sightseeing on the way in was a good distraction but now I know the time has come to sit with Crane. My first Committee meeting in a long time. I don’t wait for Adam. I walk to the front doors, the Volker hold the door for me. I look in both of their faces. They are unfamiliar, yet somehow they seem to recognize me. The Manifesto. For a second, I forgot. I wait for Adam at the elevator.

“In a rush?” He asks.

“I just want to get this over with,” I repeat to him.

We arrive on the top floor and walk the familiar hallway to the conference room. The wooden stock door I remember has been replaced, now there are large glass double doors. The image I remember from the conference room wall is etched meticulously into the glass, a large phoenix rising from a burning fire. I can see Crane’s orange hair as he sits at the conference table, his face buried in the computer. Morris and Alexander are there and they stand when we enter the room.

“Andromeda, it’s so great to see you could make it.” Morris shakes my hand. His warm eyes making contact with mine, smiling. I’m sure he’s trying to calm me, to let me know I will be fine sitting in the same room as Crane. He holds my hand for a long time, letting go only to cough into his hand.

“Good to have you back,” Alexander steps in front of Morris, greeting me.

“Let’s take our seats and start shall we?” I hear Crane interrupt our reunion from the table.

Crane starts the Committee meeting just as I remember, the tap of the hammer on the copper plate. Our laptops in front of us light up with an agenda for today’s discussions. I scan it quickly. Noticing we will be discussing updates of the factions, security, the nuclear reactors, the nuclear engineer.

Ian. No wonder they wanted me to come.

The meeting starts out slow, with everyone giving their updates. I relish in the fact that I may not have to speak at all here today. That is, until Crane brings up the lack of morale amongst the Residents.

“You need to speak in front of them,” Crane points to me. “We’ll show them images of the bombings, the ruins that are left. You need to come up with a speech.”

“Why me? I’m a terrible public speaker,” I argue.

“You and Adam are the only people the Residents may recognize, you were locals, and you know them.”

And it's true. I do know most of them, and their families. Each day I pass people who I went to school with, who I went to college with. I think of that mother I met in the hospital, the one with the twin boys, she seemed to know me and trust me completely with the future of her babies. Still, I don’t want to make a speech. I wish I had never told Crane my theory as to why the Residents rebelled. I wish I had let him figure out some other reason for the uprising.

“I don't want to,” I tell Crane. “The Manifesto is enough.”

“No, it is not. You will speak. I will draft a speech if you can’t. The Sovereign will be debuted.”

Perhaps I could handle one speech, just one. But I know it won’t be enough, especially if he lets more people into the District, if the Survivors find us.

“And when you let new people in?” I ask. “What about them?”

“They will undergo admission seminars and testing, the Manifesto will be the first thing they read, and they will see the speech. If they can't cooperate, if they can’t add something to the District, then they can return to the rubble. We only protect those who will preserve the integrity of the District.” With that sentence he glares at me.

I do my best to glare back.

He moves on, discussing updates from Morris and Alexander about the factions. They have been under control since the medication was resumed. Adam discusses the Volker training. All the recruits have been fully trained and assigned duties.

Crane sits up a little straighter in his seat. “Now on the agenda, we need a way to easily identify the Sovereign as separate from the District Residents.” There is an uneasy silence in the room, but no one says anything. Why does no one question him?

I decide to break the silence. “Why?” I ask Crane.

“Soon, Andromeda, there will be too many to easily identify. There will be Survivors who will become Sovereign and the rules need to be intact now, so there are no questions, no arguments from future generations. I propose Sovereign tattooing. Now, let’s have a Committee vote,” Crane commands the table.

I look around the table, noticing I'm the only one with my hand down. I feel the rush of blood to my head. We, the adults, we are not the only Sovereign, the children are Sovereign, too.

“I'm not tattooing my child,” I say, glaring at every single one of them. I don't care if Adam shared a bed with me or that Morris saved my life. This is pushing the limits. I will not allow the children to be tattooed. “Unacceptable. They will be marked for life. I do not agree with this!” I argue back to each of them sitting at the table. I want to slap everyone of them for not standing up to him, for following along with all of his demand.

“If they were chosen as Sovereign, this is their life for the rest of their lives. It won't be painful. Their skin can be numbed, as can yours.” Crane responds to me.

“This seems like nothing more than a caste system.”

“It’s simply a method of identification,” he smiles sweetly at me.

“I won’t allow it,” I tell him.

“You no longer have a choice in the matter.”

The others just sit there, watching our quarrel. “I see that,” I say, glaring at the other Committee members. I thought Morris said that they were keeping a tight leash on Crane and the Funding Entities. It doesn’t seem that anyone is making any attempt to stop this. I can’t see them changing their minds about how dangerous Crane is, unless this-the tattooing-was the plan all along.

Crane ends the meeting on that note, not giving the option for further discussion. I stand and walk out of the room. Adam meets me in the hall. I’m fuming and have no desire to be near him, but he is my ride home and it’s the only reason I wait for him.

“Why would you agree?” I confront him as he walks up to me. “Why would you submit Lina to that? The other children?”

“Calm down,” he responds in his military voice. I hate it when he uses his military voice. It’s low, and deep and utterly patronizing.

“I will not calm down. This is my child we are talking about!” I hiss at him through gritted teeth.

“Andie, it's better than a transmitter,” he tells me in a hushed breath. “You remember those don’t you? I know you do, because you cut one out of my arm.” He holds his forearm out so I can see the small scar. “Think about it.”

But I don’t have time to think about it because just as Adam gets the words out, Crane stops by us as he’s leaving the Committee room. “I hear we have congratulations to give you, Andromeda.”

I look towards him, scowling. He hasn’t spoken directly to me outside a Committee meeting since I threatened his life.

“What?” I ask.

“Congratulations are in order. I hear you are expecting.” He claps his hands together, looking to Adam. “It’s exciting really, our first Sovereign pregnancy.” He pats me hard on the shoulder, then walks away, smiling.

I look around to see Alexander and Morris and the Volker who guard the hallway staring at us. Everyone heard him. My secret is out. How the hell did he find out? No one knows except for me and the Doctor. I think I might have to wring Dr. Akiyama’s neck.

When I turn back to Adam, he has an expression of total bewilderment on his face, as he should. This is the first he’s heard that I’m pregnant.

CHAPTER sixteen

I’ve been reading Crane’s speech for two days, trying to memorize it, trying to forget the look on Adam’s face and the feeling of everyone in the room staring at me. I know what they were thinking: Her husband is away, and she’s not divorced, wonder who the father is, what a whore…

He drove me home in silence that day. Stunned, fuming. I could feel it pouring out of him, fogging up the windows. He opened the gate, waited for me to cross the threshold, and then locked me inside without saying a word or even looking at me. Then he sped off, back to Volker headquarters I assume. I haven’t heard from him since. After years of begging me to trust him, little did he know, I was the last person he could trust.

I have no desire to make this speech or to stand in front of these people and tell them that they can trust the District, the Sovereign, or especially Crane. And not now, knowing what has happened, knowing that none of us can trust each other. The Manifesto is filled with half truths, probably more than even I know about. I still don’t know who the Entities are. I’m not sure where I should even start with all the secrets, the lies. I can tell Morris still keeps things from me. Crane still has his fingers in every aspect of the District. Only when he makes decisions that threaten people’s lives does someone step in and stop him. Then there’s the others-Survivors-somewhere out there. People living amongst the rubble, trying to find their way, make a living, bury their families. And then there’s Ian. Ian… I don’t even know where to start with that predicament…

I am interrupted from my thoughts by the phone ringing. Dr Akiyama needs me at the hospital. Morris called to let me know and when he asked if he should send Adam I told him no. There was a lot of uncomfortable silence. I’m sure he wanted to say something about my being pregnant, maybe ask who the father is. I didn’t give him the opportunity. I realize, I really should be nicer to Morris. He has done a few things for me. He did save my life once.

I don’t bother calling Adam for a ride. I take Elvis’s SUV. I’m sure I’ll receive a ration of shit for it, since I just took his keys off his desk and I didn’t even bother to ask him. The Guardians follow me, trying to block my legs as I step up into the large vehicle.

“What do you two want?” I ask them. They stare at me, puffing their long fur out of their eyes. Sometimes I just wish they could speak. “Do you want to go with me?” I take their continued stares as a yes, and I open the back door. They both jump in, lying down on the passenger bench.

When I get to the hospital I head straight for Dr. Akiyama’s office, ready to barge in and rip him a new one. But when I get there his office is already full. There’s Morris, Alexander, Crane, Adam, and a slew of Volker guards.

“What are you all doing here?” None of them answer me. They just give me that look, that judging, sorrowful look. It feels like they are trying to ignore me as I stand before them.

“You’re all done,” Dr. Akiyama tells the others and they file out of the room.

I watch them closely, trying to figure out what’s going on. It’s when I see that each of them has a bandage on their right wrist do I realize what’s happening. Sovereign tattooing day. Adam stops, talking quietly to one of the guards on the way out. I’m sure they’re expecting a fight from me. I’m the only one who opposed this. Adam says nothing to me. He doesn’t even look at me on his way out the door. I’m sure he’s pissed, beyond belief.

“Andromeda, this will be much easier if you don’t struggle. I don’t want to have the Volker hold you down. It might…” He drifts off, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Thanks for the warning, Doctor,” I tell him, the sarcasm thick on my voice. I’m sure he knows why, what I’m referring to, the promise he broke to me.

“I didn’t say a thing. You have to realize that nothing happens here without Crane finding out.” He holds his hand out. “I need your right wrist.” I hold it out and he rolls something across my skin that feels damp and cool.

“What was that?”

“A numbing agent, you won’t feel a thing.”

One of the Volker hands him a black object, it almost resembles an electric razor. He places it over my wrist, pressing a red button. I watch the skin underneath turn from my pale-white, to a red, then grey, and then a black image starts to appear just as the pungent stench of burning skin reaches my nose. This must be some type of laser tattooing device, or branding, or mixture of the two. I’ve never seen anything like it before.

By the time Dr. Akiyama is done I look down at my wrist to see the image of a black bird, much like the emblem on the glass door and wall of Headquarters. He places a bandage over the area and hands me a bottle.

“What’s this?” I turn the bottle over in my hand. The liquid inside is viscous and purple. It looks just like the children’s Tylenol I used to give Lina when she had a fever.

“Pain medication…” He backs away from me, behind the desk. His reaction is strange, like he might actually be afraid of me. I notice two of the Volker walking towards me.

“For whom, I can’t take this?” I ask him.

“It’s for the children. They can have it after the numbing agent wears off.”

“What?” I feel the Volker grab my upper arms.

Suddenly it makes sense. That’s why they asked me to come down here. To get me away from the Pasture and the children, because they know they would never get near the children, or Lina, with me there.

I don’t give the Doctor a response, and I’m sure the Volker are surprised when all I do is turn and run out of the room. They follow me as I make my way back to the SUV I took from Elvis. As I open the door and crawl inside, the Guardians raise their heads. The Volker stop when they see the large dogs, making no attempt to come any closer to me. I start the engine and drive as fast as I can back to the Pasture.

Just before I get to the hidden driveway, I see another black SUV speeding down the road towards me. Elvis is standing at the gate, waiting, the gate open. I make no attempt to stop and greet him. Instead I park the vehicle and jump out, running for the schoolhouse. I can hear Stevie barking loudly from our house. I run up the porch steps and open the door to release her. We make our way to the schoolhouse and when I open the door everyone is there. The children are sitting around Blithe, huddled at her feet and sitting on her lap, each of them has a bandage on their wrist. I look to Blithe, who also has a bandage, and a look of what I can only sense as lament.

“Mommy,” Lina gets up and runs to me, throwing her arms around my waist.

“Lina.” I bend down, looking in her green eyes which are so much like mine. “Are you ok? Did they hurt you?”

“No, but they said we had to do it.” She holds her tiny bandaged wrist out for me to inspect. I can’t bear to pull the bandage off and see the same image burned into her skin. I pull her into an embrace and look around the room, noticing that someone is missing.

“Where’s Sam?” I ask Blithe.

“At his place, they had to sedate him.” She shakes her head at me, then looking to the children, her eyes become glossy with threatening tears. “It was not good, Andie.”

“I’m taking Lina,” I tell her, as I take Lina’s hand and pull her out the door with me. We walk to the library-house, to Sam’s apartment above it. Stevie follows us the whole way. I notice a few of the Guardians assembling in the courtyard, two of them leaving the group to follow us. They must sense it, I’m pissed. I could kill Crane right now.

I lead Lina up the steps to the house, the dogs following behind us. Just before I reach the top step I notice the large pool of blood gleaming off the floor of the porch and when I look up I see a spray of blood across the wooden porch pillar. Suddenly, I fear that they might have done more than just sedate Sam.

I stop Lina. “Close your eyes, Lina. I’ll carry you inside,” I tell her, afraid of what we might find. I pick her up and settle her on my hip. She buries her face in my neck as we climb the stairs. Stevie follows us.

Sam is laying on his bed, unconscious, his wrist bandaged. I place my hand on his neck, checking his pulse. It’s strong and slow. I search him for injuries, but all I find is a pinhole spot of blood on his neck and a few bloodied knuckles. I’m not sure whose blood dripped all over the porch, but I know it can’t be good.

I decide to let Sam sleep off whatever they gave him. Lina and I return to the library on the first floor of the house and we read books as we wait for Sam to wake up. No one bothers us. I’m sure Blithe and Elvis know better than to disturb me right now.

I look through the books and come upon an old book of maps. When I pull it out I see it contains detailed maps of each of the states. States which I’m sure don’t really exist anymore. I turn to Lina, who sits on the floor, pouring over a wildlife encyclopedia, her small hand covering the bandage on her wrist. It’s then that I form the idea. I have to take a larger role in Lina’s training. I can’t leave it to Blithe to teach her everything she might need to know. Because there are some things the children won’t be taught, like how to escape, and how to defend themselves. I make a mental note that the next thing I need to teach her are the maps, the old roads, and where they lead outside the District. I have to teach her how to get away from this place if she should ever need to and if I’m not around any longer.

“Does your wrist hurt?” I ask her. She shakes her head no. Stevie licks her hand, then settles on the floor next to Lina.

It’s not long before I hear the crunching of tires on the gravel driveway. I go to the window to see a row of Volker vehicles parking in front of the house. I move to the door so I can watch them through the thin glass but the two Guardians that reside in Sam’s house block my path, standing in front of the door. I watch as the door to the SUVs open, noting six Volker and Adam.

I watch them as they make their way to the house, examining the pathway, the cluster of Guardians in the courtyard, and the blood on the porch. After making his way to the front door Adam stops, seeing me watching them through the glass. I reach forward for the door handle but one of the Guardians nudges my arm.

“Stop.” I brush at the beast. “Unless you can open doors now,” I scold the dog and then watch in amazement as it twists the door handle with its mouth, then paws the door open. I see Adam raise his eyebrows as he notices it was not me that opened the door, but the large dog.

The tension in the air is immediate and whatever he is here for is tangled in our unfinished business. This is not going to be a good conversation.

“What do you want?” I ask him.

“We need to speak with Sam,” Adam tells me, talking to me for the first time since he found out I’m pregnant.

“Why?”

“I need to find out what happened here.”

“You know what happened, Adam. Sam was trying to protect the children from this.” I thrust my bandaged wrist out for him to see.

“There’s more-” he starts.

“There’s nothing, Adam, the Volker are suppose to protect us, which is your main task. Protect the Sovereign. Instead you let them come out here and brand the children, the children Adam!” I see the other Volker turn to watch our conversation. I’m sure they’ve never seen anyone question Colonel Waters before, especially not like this. Adam steps towards the threshold of the door. To my surprise the Guardians let him enter, but bare their teeth to the others waiting outside the door. I watch as the six grown men each take a few steps back. “I think you all need to leave. Let us at least recover from what happened here today,” I tell him.

“I’d love to, Andie. I really would. But I need to talk to Sam.”

“No you don’t. You leave him alone. He’s been through enough today.”

“I need to talk to him, now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got a dead Volker on my hands.” He leans in, looking into my eyes, lowering his voice. “Stop. Now. You know I don’t want to do this but I have no choice in the matter.”

Just then I hear footsteps at the top of the stairs behind me. I turn to see Sam walking slowly down the steps, gripping the railing to steady himself. I turn back to Adam.

“He’s barely recovered from whatever they gave him. How do you even know if he remembered?”

“I have my ways.”

Suddenly all I can think of is Adam’s history, the army, the Middle East, his training. I know he’s capable of getting answers out of anyone, and I fear that he might hurt Sam. “Don’t touch him, Adam, I swear to God.”

Adam looks at me, slightly confused. Maybe I took his words out of context, it must be the hormones making me react so strongly.

“It’s ok, Sis,” Sam says from behind me.

He steps around me, heading out the door to talk with Adam. One of the Guardians follows him, trotting closely by his side. I look back to Lina and Stevie on the floor. They both seem engrossed in the wildlife encyclopedia, ignoring the scene at the door. It’s when I shift my gaze back to the porch that I see the paw print on the wooden floor right where the Guardian that followed Sam was sitting. It’s strange because it’s not muddy outside and it’s only of one paw. I crouch down on the floor to inspect it further, swiping my finger across it. When I look to my fingertip the substance is easy to identify, its blood.

Adam ushers Sam over to the vehicles. “Lina, stay inside with Stevie,” I call over my shoulder as I step out onto the porch, afraid that they are going to take Sam somewhere. I notice Elvis leave the entrance to the main barn and start walking towards the commotion. Standing on the porch, I listen to their conversation.

“What happened, Sam?” Adam asks.

I can see the flicker of mischief in Sam’s eyes. “What do you think happened, Colonel Waters?” He answers calmly. I’ve seen him do this act before, when we were children and he knew all too well that he was about to get in trouble.

The Volker are all watching intently, looking over Sam, hoping they don’t have to subdue him again. He out-heights, out-muscles, and out-weighs every single one of them. For a moment I wonder why he wasn’t chosen as a Volker instead of being trained as a Sovereign.

“I’ve got a dead man, blood on your porch, and no one wants to talk.”

“They should talk,” Sam motions to the six other Volker. “They were here, they know what happened, and they took part in it.”

There is a standstill, everyone looking at each other, frustrated. I look to the Guardian, shifting its weight as it sits by Sam’s feet. Remembering the bloody paw print I walk a little closer, inspecting the dog. This one’s fur is dark, but still long, most of it twisted into heavy dreadlocks. It watches the Volker standing behind Adam, and as it turns towards me, the sun catches the red hue of dried blood on its chin hair. In an instant I know what happened. The Guardian did it. It was a Guardian, Sam’s Guardian. It’s amazing, these animals do a better job at protecting us than the Volker.

“I’ve been told there was a fight, they tried to subdue you, you fought back, and then some kind of scuffle ensued on the porch. The Volker responsible for injecting you with the sedative was found on the ground, with a nasty gash to his neck. How did it happen?”

“I don’t know. I was sedated, remember,” Sam replies defiantly.

“Sam, I don’t want to bring you down to Headquarters. You’re new here, you don’t want to make a poor name for yourself. Let’s get this over with. Speak.”

Sam crosses his arms over his chest. Just then Adam must notice the dried blood on the dog, because he’s staring at it intently. He crouches down, so he is face-to-face with the Guardian.

“Leave the dog alone,” Sam steps in front of Adam, blocking his view. “He’s not involved.”

Adam turns to Elvis, who has made his way to Adam’s side. “I need to use your phone.” The two walk to the barn where Elvis has his office. Leaving the six Volker, two dogs, me, and Sam to stand around to ponder what’s going to happen next.

“Sam,” I whisper through my teeth. “Why are you risking your life for a dog?”

“They’re more than dogs, Andie. I know you can tell. There’s something different about them. They protect us. We need to return the favor.”

A few moments pass. Enough for a quick phone call, a quick decision. We watch as Adam and Elvis walk back from the barn.

“It has been decided,” Adam announces to everyone. “The animal must be put down. It’s not safe.”

“No,” I argue, “it was only doing its job. They are here to protect us, it was protecting Sam. You can’t kill it for that.”

“My hands are tied, Andie. The Entities decided, Crane has decided, it needs to be done.”

I feel a hand clamp down on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of it,” I hear Elvis, his voice somber.

The Guardian takes one last look at all of us, lingering on Sam for a few extra minutes, puffing its long hair from in front of its eyes. I follow Elvis as he leads the dog behind the circle of houses, out to the field, where we are out of sight from the Volker, Adam, and Sam.

“What are you going to do to it?” I ask.

Elvis points to the Guardian, then out past the fields and the water tower and the forests. “Go,” is all he says. The large animal turns, trotting off in the direction of which Elvis has pointed. “You better make yourself look a little sadder before you go back to them. I have to take a walk. I won’t be going back with you right now.”

With that he takes the pistol from his hip, aiming it at the ground, and shoots a bullet into the dirt. I’m guessing to let the others think he may have actually put the dog down.

“Thank you, Elvis.” He nods, tipping the brim of his hat at me, then walks off in the direction he was pointing. I watch them, just long enough to see a cluster of Guardians step out of the shadows of the woods, waiting for the banished Guardian to reach them.

When I return to the courtyard the Volker are gone, and Adam. They must have taken the sound of the gunshot as enough proof that the Guardian had been put down.

I am left with a sense of relief that Sam is safe, but still, I never got to clear things up with Adam.

CHAPTER seventeen

I make Blithe end Lina’s instruction early each afternoon. And while the other children are sent to finish their work or relax, I continue to teach Lina. I remind her of things outside the gates, the way the world was. I teach her how to read the maps from the library books. Where we are and where the old routes are that used to connect our town to the outside world since they are now covered in two years worth of debris. Two years worth of Crane’s attempt to hide them.

Lina has never argued, never said one word, but soaked everything in with fierce interest. Each day, my heart breaks a little more forcing her to learn these things when I would rather she spend her childhood pretending to be a princess and playing with dolls. Sweet and innocent like she’s always been. But now, right now, this is a different time. Being branded as a Sovereign doesn’t mean we will always be safe.

Elvis shows her how to shoot the guns, how to throw a knife, and how to use the small bow he gave her for her birthday. I take her for walks with me on the paths that I used to wander. We climb the water tower, examining the forest from up high. I show her the pond with the boat, the ruins with the hidden basement. We explored under the old, wooden floor of the abandoned house. It must have been a root cellar, or perhaps something more. There were five rooms, dug out larger than the dilapidated house above ground. The perfect place for a child to hide in an emergency.

We get stronger, working the muscles that have been lost in the classroom and from sitting at desks. I ignore the feelings coming from my body, the aches, the soreness, the nausea that creeps up on me each morning. The regret of not telling Adam of the pregnancy before Crane did.

Sometimes Sam comes with us. He’s already strong and he knows how to use the weapons, developing a disturbing expertise with them. I want him to be on the same page. He realized that we weren’t really safe on the day of the tattooing, when the Volker stormed the pasture. Our hidden pasture, our place of safety, refuge. It’s visible in Sam’s eyes, the shame that he couldn’t protect the children-not that he didn’t try. That was evident with his bruises, the pin hole in his neck from the sedative they gave him, and the dead Volker.

The realization is there, that I might not always be around to protect Lina. And I will never let her live in this District, this world, believing that she is safe. Because that’s what I did, until Crane and Baillie beat the naiveté out of me. Twice. I used to fear them, the thought of them, looking in their faces again. Now, the only thing I fear is that Lina will hate me for all I’ve put her through, for all I haven’t been able to protect her from. This changed life, the loss of her father.

I may think that I don’t fear Crane any longer, but there’s the dreams. I still fear the dreams. That’s why I continue to stay awake at night, staring at the computer and the program I created. I inserted a virus into the code. A layer of protection, you might say. It stopped assigning genetic pairs two years out. Without the encrypted password, the program will not continue. Three wrong tries and it wipes the program. Now Crane still needs me. I’m sure he saw what I was doing, but couldn’t stop it. Remotely watching my computer can only go so far. Morris informed me that he can only watch. He can’t take the files or alter them. Another layer of protection from the Entities, I suppose. Without the program Crane will have to figure out the pairing on his own, and he’s already told me that’s a gift which escapes him and everyone else he’s tried to train to do my job.

--

I get the sense that someone is in the house before I hear the click of the front door. None of the Guardians are alarmed. They continue to sleep on the floor, scattered throughout the house, which can only mean they don’t sense danger.

I leave Lina's room, closing the door behind me. There are footsteps in the living room. Pacing, mumbling. As soon as I turn the corner I recognize Adam’s dark figure.

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” I ask him.

“Why didn't you tell me, Andie?” His voice is low, strained.

“I didn't tell anyone.”

“Crane knew before I did, how does that work?”

“The only one who knew was the doctor. Crane must have been perusing my medical file.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” He takes two steps, and suddenly he is standing so close, towering over me. “Why?” He repeats. I can tell he's hurt, angry.

“You told me yourself, you wouldn’t bring a child into this. What was I supposed to do, saddle you with a child you never wanted? It was a mistake.” I look away from his pained face, holding my breath, preparing myself to deliver the final blow. “What we did was a mistake. It should have never happened.” I can tell instantly he doesn’t believe my words, and I’m not sure I do either.

“You’re wrong. This is not a mistake. This is so different.” He brushes his hand across my cheek, and bends down, kissing me for the first time in weeks. The feel of his lips are so familiar, comforting, making my body tingle with anticipation. But he tastes different. I don't know how I didn't smell it on him before. Maybe I was just relieved to see him after all this time. Maybe I thought that he would come back to me, maybe he would forgive me. But he's drunk. All I can think is it took that much for him to see me again, he couldn’t even face me sober.

“You've been drinking. Where did you even find any alcohol?” It’s been outlawed since the District guidelines were enacted. I push at his chest. “Adam, stop it!” But he's kissing me harder, pulling at my shirt, running his hands up my bare back and across the thick scars from the wolf attack, pulling me to him. This is not how I want it to be. Him showing up drunk, trying to drag me off to bed. “Get off me, Adam.” I shove him as hard as I can. But he’s too tall, too strong. He barely staggers, but still it gets him to stop. “Come back when you've sobered up! Then we’ll talk about this.”

His light blue eyes stare into mine, collecting his thoughts, but saying no more. He leaves, closing the door silently behind him. He doesn't come back. I'm sure he returns to his townhouse by the lake, leaving me with only the taste of his lips on mine, this swelling in my abdomen, and the small owl charm around my neck. I’m guessing it’s all I’ll have left of him now that I’ve ruined whatever we had. It seems that I have a knack for that-just look at what I did to Ian.

--

“You will make the speech today.” It’s a message, Crane’s voice. “Volker will escort you this morning. The children will attend.”

I slam the phone down onto the receiver. I knew it was coming. I’ve been memorizing the speech for weeks, at night when we aren’t out in the fields training. I don’t want the children to be there. I don’t even want to be there. This is where the nervousness starts, the sweaty palms, the rapid heart rate.

There is a knock on the door and I hear Lina’s footsteps as she runs to open it.

“Good morning, Catalina,” I hear Sam’s voice and Lina’s giggles. He must be twirling her again. I leave the office to greet him.

“Good morning, Sam.” I do my best to smile.

“This speech we are going to, I don’t have anything to wear.” He holds his arms out. Sam showed up here with only the clothes on his back. Since then we’ve been having a hard time finding clothes for him. He’s too tall, too broad shouldered. Elvis has given him some old shirts and pants, but the shirts are always too tight, and the pants too short. He’s survived on the two outfits given to him after his testing, never complaining.

“Hang on, let me call someone.”

I pick up the receiver and the operator answers. “Morris, District Sovereign.” I hear the phone ring and Morris answers.

“Hello, Morris, this is Andie.”

“What a pleasant surprise.”

“Yes, we have a problem. Sam has nothing to wear to this speech.” I glance down to my clothes and Lina’s dress, which is just a little big on her. “Actually, all of our clothes are a little ragged.” I wonder if this is what the Entities wanted, showing the Residents that the Sovereign live a simple life, in order to provide for them.

“Do not worry. It’s been taken care of. I will see you shortly.” We say goodbye and hang up.

I shrug at Sam. “He says not to worry about it, Sam.”

A caravan of Volker vehicles arrives, their tires crunching across the gravel driveway. I stare through the front windows, trying to see if Adam is driving one of them, but he’s not. I twist my fingers in my shirt and watch out the window. Stopping only to look over at Lina and put my arm around her. Out of the corner of my eye I catch Sam watching me. He’s carrying Astrid, who like Lina, has developed some deep attachment to him. I watch as she lays her head on his shoulder and sucks on her thumb. Since she’s gotten here she seems to be regressing, acting younger than her four years of age. I get the sense that she might actually be younger than Morris said, and was taken from her home much too early to begin training.

“You know, Sis, it wouldn't hurt so badly if you didn't care so much for him. You’re both too stubborn and secretive, you need to talk more.” He’s talking about Adam, I know it. I must look pretty pathetic gazing out the window, hoping he might be back to clear things up. And now here's my little brother, giving me relationship advice.

“Mind your business, Sam,” I tell him as I turn back to gazing out the window.

Lina, Astrid, Sam, and I ride in one vehicle. Blithe, Elvis and the other children split themselves between the others. I tried to make myself look presentable, professional. Since I’m the one making the speech and Crane always wears his suits. I even put makeup on, doing my best with what little I had left.

We are brought to the campus auditorium. It’s large, usually reserved for graduation ceremonies from the State College. But Crane has taken over the campus, made it his own Headquarters from which to run the town.

We follow the Volker to a waiting room. There are couches, mirrors, and a changing area. Right off the bat I see garment bags hanging on a row of coat racks, one with my name on it. Morris enters the room, looking nice in a suit, greeting us all with his large smile, shaking everyone’s hand, even the children.

“We have something for you to wear.” He guides me to the garment bag. “I think it will be perfect.”

He unzips the bag and pulls out a dress. It’s dark blue, gauzy and light, with a woven leather belt around the midsection. I look down at the slacks and blouse I put on. They’re loose and hide my growing abdomen well. I turn back towards the dress, there’s one problem with it, I no longer have much of a waist, and it will be perfectly evident that I am with child.

“I can’t wear this, Morris.”

“Yes you can. It was made just for you. Someone will be quite disappointed to see you in something different.” He merely glances at the outfit I have on. “There is a change of clothes for everyone, all of the Sovereign, even the children.”

I haven’t worn a dress in so long. The last time I can remember was my wedding day, when I married Ian. I take the dress into the changing room. Stripping my old clothes off and pulling the dress over my head. The dress is soft and light, allowing the air to cool the nervous sweat that’s coating the back of my neck. I fasten the belt around my midsection, pushing it as far down as I can, trying to hide the bulge. When I leave the dressing room there’s a pair of black, flat dress shoes waiting by the mirror. I slip my feet into them, then, finally look up to the mirror.

I hear Lina run up behind me. “Oh, Mommy, you look so beautiful.”

Through the mirror, I watch Blithe follow her. “I can help you with your hair,” she tells me. I glance to my face, the long wavy hair hanging down past my shoulders.

“Ok.”

“Lina, can you bring me some hair pins from the counter over there?” Blithe points to another mirrored area which holds an array of hair products and makeup. As Lina runs to collect the hair pins, Blithe takes her place behind me. Since she is much taller than I am there is no need for me to sit. Then, she works magic. I don’t know what else to call it. She separates strands of hair, twisting, braiding, pinning. Lina hands her pin after pin. She works with a concentration much like I’ve seen with the children, when she’s trying to get them to contemplate certain topics in her humanities teachings. When she’s done she steps back, inspecting her work from each side, then the front, moving a few pieces of hair around. When I turn back to the mirror I am surprised to see all my hair is beautifully woven into a braided and twisted mound just above the nape of my neck. There is not a stray strand. It looks amazing.

“How did you learn to do that?” I ask her as I lean into the mirror, admiring her work.

“My mother was a hairdresser,” she tells me, smiling. She turns, walking over to the mirrored shelf where Lina got the hair pins. I see her select a few things then she returns, standing in front of me. “She did makeup too. We can’t let you go out there like this.”

And with that she opens the tubes of eyeliner, mascara, lip stains and blush. When she is done, she steps away so I can see myself in the mirror. The surprise is evident in my eyes. She has transformed me into something beautiful. I look nothing like myself, nothing like the sleepwalking matchmaker I’ve been for so long. I can’t even see the blue hue that usually stains the skin under my tired eyes. My skin is even toned, the green bursting from my eyes, my lips the perfect shade of pink.

Blithe leans in, close to my ear. “I think today is more important than either of us imagined.” I try to control a shudder that runs through my body with her words. “I like your necklace,” she tells me before stepping back.

I glance down at the small owl charm around my neck. I haven’t taken it off since Adam placed it around my neck. Seeing it now, the bright blue gemstones in the owl’s eyes compliment the dress perfectly. It makes me realize how much I truly miss having Adam in my life. Even if what we were doing was wrong, even if I was the one to push him away. It’s been weeks since we’ve talked, since he’s seen us. I’m sure my appearance today will do nothing but open old wounds, because now it’s believable, there’s no mistaking the pregnancy.

We open the other garment bags to find dresses for the girls and suits for the boys. All of the clothes are simple, yet elegant. Sam and Blithe change as I help the children. Blithe works on Lina and Astrid’s hair as I comb the boys’ hair and straighten their ties. Just as we finish there’s a knock on the door.

Elvis enters, wearing his Volker uniform. It looks strange since we usually see him in regular clothes as he works around the farm. “You all look very nice,” he smiles as he speaks.

Morris re-enters the room behind him. “Spectacular.” He gleams, looking to all the faces in the room.

There are more footsteps in the hall. Alexander enters the room, followed by Crane and… Adam.

I grasp the small owl hanging on the thin gold chain around my neck. I look to him, only for a second-just enough to see the hard look on his face-aware of the fact that he can’t even look at me. I release the charm from my grasp and turn my attention back to the others.

“Ah, look what we have here,” Crane opens his arms, greeting the room. “The past, present, and future of the Phoenix District, all in the same room. What a momentous event today will be.” With that he clasps his hands together and then turns his attention to me. “I take it you are ready?” he asks. But I know it’s not really a question. He holds his hand out to me. “Let us go now.”

I make no attempt to take his hand. Blithe’s magic may have made me look presentable but it did not change me, the past, or everything that Crane has done to us. I take Lina’s hand and walk behind Crane. Everyone is quite nervous, unsure of what to expect. The only noise is that of our shoes echoing in the hallway.

Elvis and Adam take up the back of the group as Crane walks us to the stage. The curtain is down. There are dull lights and a murmuring coming from the auditorium. For an instant I remember standing on this stage, receiving my diploma in Genetics so long ago. Little did I know where it would lead me in life.

We stand in a straight line, waiting. Crane signals to a worker standing to the side of the stage and the curtain rises. The crowd hushes, the murmurs become faint then disappear. The sweat returns to the back of my neck and I can feel my heart start to beat harder. I hate public speaking. As my eyes adjust to the lights, I see the auditorium is packed with men, women and children. Volker guards line the stairways and rows of the auditorium seating.

Crane walks up to the podium. “Dearest Residents of the Phoenix District, I would like to welcome you all.” He opens his arms, smiling. The crowd remains silent. I look to each side of us, the row of Sovereign, to see Adam and Elvis standing sternly, looking out into the crowd.

Crane starts speaking, restating the opening paragraph of the manifesto. “Few of you may know what happened to the United States last year, as you were protected within the walls of the Phoenix District. An unknown entity is responsible for the obliteration of the United States. The world super power that was once is no more. The United States is now a desperate wasteland, destroyed by bombs and human indifference. Let’s watch.”

A large screen lowers from above the stage and the lights dim. Images flash across the screen, the bombs flying through the air just as I saw them from the water tower. Then I couldn’t see their impact, but now on the screen there are aerial views of the deep craters left in the ground, the rubble of buildings, people wandering in despair, makeshift graveyards, gunfire, people running, mobs looting. I have no idea how Crane managed to obtain this footage or if it’s even real. The crowd watches, flinching at times, mothers covering their children’s eyes. It ends with the blazing symbol of the phoenix etching from the headquarter doors, the image similar to what has been burned into the skin of the Sovereign.

Crane returns to the microphone. “You have been chosen to live a life of protection and value. Agreement to the guidelines listed within this guide will ensure your place within the District. If at any point you wish to brave the violence and destruction of the world outside these walls, you may leave. Remember we only protect those who will preserve the integrity of the Phoenix District. With that I give you someone you may all remember, someone who has become an integral facet of our lives. You may recognize her as your Matchmaker, Andromeda.”  He turns, sweeping his arm to me.

There are murmurs from the crowd again. A few people point at me, whispering. I can’t hear what they’re saying, all I can hear is the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. The layer of sweat thickens on my neck, threatening to turn into a trail down my back. I feel Lina squeeze my hand and shake my arm. “Mommy,” she whispers. “That’s you.”

My walk to the podium is apprehensive. The last time I approached a crowd was at the Genetics in Modern Society seminar over six years ago, when I was presenting my research. I was confident then, even angry when Dr. Drake interrupted me and bashed my findings. That confidence is gone now. I’m not merely playing with the rat genome anymore, we are changing the human race. Crane is playing God.

Crane adjusts the microphone to my height then walks back to the row of Sovereign. I remember I’m supposed to be saying something, but the words have escaped me, just for a moment, while I take in what we are about to become. A new society, what Crane has been working towards for so long. Right now, at this moment, I am about to accept my new role, my new life. Everyone will know what has happened, what lies in store for their future. I turn around, looking to the row of children, Sam, and Lina. Their future is all I have left to protect. It will never be the same, we can never go back, and everything changes right now whether I like it or not.

I turn back to the crowd now, my skin feeling different, my height a little taller. I try to remember the words I’ve been memorizing for weeks-Crane’s speech. But it all escapes me now. I can’t remember a lick of it.

“Good people of Phoenix,” I start, smiling, putting on the best act of my life. “Congratulations, welcome. Some of you may remember me, and I you. There have been plenty of changes occurring recently. I’m hoping we did our best explaining what has happened and where we go from here. But I assure you, we are safe here. Right now trust in the District is all we have left.” I pause, catching as many eyes as I can as I scan in the crowd, trying to make them believe. “I say this not as a Sovereign, but as a mother and a resident of Phoenix myself. We are your Sovereign, we will protect you, we will lead you to a better tomorrow.” I’m not sure why I do it or what compels me to raise my hand in the air, but I stand there, the speech finished, holding my wrist forward with my hand bent back so the crowd can see the image burned into my skin.

At first there is silence, then a slight humming of words from the crowd of Residents, murmurings, clapping. I’m not sure if it’s of joy or excitement, maybe relief. Soon, all I can hear is the sound of the Residents as they applause in unison.

Elvis and Adam usher us off the stage, back to the waiting room. I hold tight to Lina’s hand the whole way, afraid to let go. Crane enters the room last, his eyes bright, clasping his hands together. “Excellent, Andromeda, better than I had hoped. They loved you! I knew this would work.” He walks himself in a circle, obviously giddy with the success of the speeches. “Now, we attend the banquet!”

--

The banquet is held in the campus cafeteria. The room is large and there are sparse groupings of people spread throughout. I grab onto Lina’s hand, afraid that she may wander off. I see a few people I know-Dr. Akiyama and Kira-who used to manage my lab, before we moved to the Pasture.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.” Lina pulls at my hand. The thought of food churns my stomach, the last thing I can do right now is eat.

“I can take her to the buffet,” Sam holds his hand out for her to take.

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” I tell him. “I’m going to get some water.”

We go in opposite directions. Sam towards the food and me towards a table with rows of beverages. I choose a glass of water with slices of lemon, and then I turn, scanning the room. I notice someone is walking towards me. He’s tall, thinner than I’ve ever remembered, but the brown eyes and shaggy blonde hair are the same. It’s Ian. I catch a glimpse of Crane watching from across the room. This must be part of his plan. Maybe it’s his punishment for me pointing the gun at him, or not repeating the exact words he wrote in my speech.

Ian looks at me strangely, his brow twisting in confusion. “I know you,” he tells me.

“Yes, you do, Ian,” I keep my voice calm.

“We were together once, weren’t we?”

I simply nod yes to him. I see the brightness in his eyes. It’s not like before when they were dull, his features monotone. He’s remembering, even though Crane said he wouldn’t remember anything. He looks down at my swollen abdomen. He may not be himself, his body trying to flush out whatever Crane gave him. But he knows what I look like pregnant, he experienced it with Lina.

“You’re pregnant?” he asks.

I try to skew the conversation away from me. “You have a son now, Ian.” He looks to the dark haired boy standing behind me, selecting from the glasses of water. “No... Over there.” I redirect him, pointing to the fair haired toddler with pale skin and high arched nose. He’s not hard to miss. He’s the spitting image of Ian.

“What happened? Who are these people?” he asks me. There is confusion in his voice, shakiness. A far cry from the confident man I married so long ago. I want to tell him about Crane, blame it all on Crane. But that will just put Ian at risk. Crane is controlling him right now. The only difference is Ian is not of sound mind to defend himself. And I have to protect Ian. I promised myself I would protect him. The stories of Crane will have to wait.

“You were assigned a new partner and required to… to reproduce,” I tell him.

“Then who is that behind you?” he points to one of the new children.

“It’s one of the Sovereign children, Lex.”

“But you’re pregnant,” he points to my abdomen. “Is it ours?”

“No.” I shake my head, looking to the floor, feeling truly ashamed. Perhaps, he’s already begun putting the pieces together.

“No?” I see the change in his expression. The anger, the hurt, the confusion.

“You moved on? Whose child is that?”

“Adam's.” I realize he has no idea who Adam is. “He is the Volker District Sovereign. I'm sure you will meet him soon.” It’s strange that Ian is the first person I’ve admitted it to, who the father is.

He takes his wedding band off. I am amazed that he still has it on, after all this time. I wait for him to throw it, like he's done in all my nightmares. But instead he looks at it, longingly, and then places it in his pocket.

“I'm so sorry, Ian. I never wanted this for us. I had to move on to protect Lina. And I had to protect you from Crane.”

Ian doesn’t respond. He just stands in front of me, staring, trying to make sense of it all. I catch Sam’s eye from across the room. He has an expression of surprise, probably from seeing me speaking to Ian. I motion for him to take Lina away. I don’t want her to see Ian like this.

I watch as Sam walks Lina to the far side of the room, and at the same time Crane walks up beside Ian.

“Well, isn’t this nice,” Crane says with a smirk.

“Sure is,” I tell him.

“Come, Ian, I have some people for you to meet.” Crane leads Ian away.

“You shouldn’t let him get to you.” I find Alexander at my side.

“That’s pretty impossible,” I tell him. How could I not be affected by finding my lost husband standing in front of me, asking me who’s child I’m pregnant with?

“Crane lies, sometimes,” Alexander shrugs. He drinks the last of his water then stares at the ice cubes. I bet he’s wishing there were something stronger in his glass, like bourbon.

“You all lie,” I tell him as I walk away, headed to find Lina and get home. This party’s over for me.

Adam never said a word to me. I caught him, more than a few times, watching me from the corners of the room. He ventured a little closer when Ian found me in the crowd, but never interrupted our conversation.

Having both of them in the same room was more confusing than anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m sure Crane was enjoying himself, watching it all unfold.

I take the gauzy, blue dress off and hang it in my small closet. I pull on a pair of pajamas and head to my office. The girls have been sleeping for a few hours, exhausted from the day. I let them dance around in their fancy dresses before bed.

I load up the data. Curious.

Having Adam and Ian in the same room got me thinking, wondering about what we created.

Since Adam has obviously given up on me, I pull his data and place it next to the female Volker I saw him speaking with. The jeweler. It only takes a few moments for me to see the result. A perfect match, the perfect diversity. My heart drops. He still has a chance with someone else. He could move on with her, and it would be acceptable within the guidelines of the District.

Then, I do something I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t help myself. I’m too curious. What do I have to lose anyway? I’m already pregnant. I’ve already pushed him away. I line up Adam’s genetic data with mine. I close my eyes before reviewing the final results, afraid. I take a few deep breaths and let my eyes open, focusing on the screen before me. It’s unbelievable. An even more perfect match.

CHAPTER eighteen

“Andie?” Dr Akiyama has called this time. For a moment I think, I haven’t I’ve talked on the phone as much in my entire life as I have since I came here. “There is a situation at the hospital. I need you to come down here.”

“A situation like the last situation?” I ask. Last time he asked me to go there, they tattooed the children.

“No. This is something different,” he tells me. “This is important.”

“How important?”

“It’s Morris.” His voice drops a few octaves.

I guess I should go.

I wait at the gate for my Volker escort. Elvis gave me a ration of shit for taking his vehicle and venturing out on my own the day of the tattooing. Since then he’s hidden his keys. I’ve been unable to find them. Not that it hasn’t stopped me from searching each time he heads out to the fields.

They’ve been sending Volker escorts at random, never the same one. I wonder who will be my Volker today? I hear the creak of the gate, someone opening it. And I’m not prepared when I see Adam standing on the other side, waiting for me. It takes me a moment of standing there with my mouth hanging open, staring at him. He let his beard grow in, just a little. He must be trying to hide the tired look on his face but I can see it still. And I know how he feels from months without sleep. Worrying about the future. What you’ve done, what’s going to come next. It takes him a while but his eyes meet mine, for only a moment, before he glances at the waiting SUV. I leave the Pasture and get in the vehicle where I wait, watching as Adam closes the gate and walks back to get in the driver’s seat.

Why did they send him? Of all people, Adam. Now I have to sit here in silence, wanting to talk, wanting to apologize, wanting him to pull me into his arms. But I know he won’t. It’s been weeks since he showed up in the middle of the night, drunk, and I turned him away. I told him to stay away.

I pull my sweater tighter around me, trying to hide my belly and stare out the window as he drives in silence. The tension in the vehicle is thick, making it hard to breathe. I revert to counting things on the side of the road as he drives just like I used to. It helps control my thoughts, it helps keep me sane. There’s the old signs, trees, houses that we pass. I count everything and anything, to numb my mind during the drive.

I follow Adam as he leads me to the fifth floor of the hospital to a room with an open door and Volker guarding the hallway. When I enter I am surprised to see Morris lying on the hospital bed.

“Andromeda,” he waves me over to him, his voice weak.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I sit in the chair next to him. It wasn’t that long ago when I was the one lying in the bed and Morris had come to visit me.

“Oh, it’s just another hurdle for us to clamber over.” He smiles, raising his hand and placing it over mine. I notice it wobbles and shakes midair.

“We have a lot to talk about.” He raises his other hand, motioning to Adam, who is still standing in the doorway. “Close the door, please.” After we hear the click from the latch he turns back to me, staring into my eyes for a long time.

“You’re sick?” I ask.

“Yes.” He nods his head, closing his eyes. “I wanted to wait a little longer before we had this discussion, but I fear there is not much more time and you need to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“For what happens next…” He erupts into a fit of coughing. I reach to his bedside table, to the cup with a straw and pour water into it, holding it out for him to drink.

Morris sips at the water, and then continues. “Certain people were pulled from society. Just before the bombings. Doctors, teachers, athletes, and the best in their field, all those who have been making positive impacts on humanity. Their families had been pulled too, when there was time. Unfortunately some may have to move on without their loved ones. There wasn’t time to collect everyone. There was the threat of exposure, someone found out and was about to release information about everything we were planning.” I think back to what Adam told me, about his contact being shot and dying. “If they survive the wreckage and find one of the hidden Districts they will be allowed in. Otherwise they will have to fend for themselves in the wreckage that was once the United States.”

I simply stare at Morris, trying to digest his words. He’s just told me exactly what I’ve always wanted to know, ever since this whole thing started. “I know that there are other Districts,” I admit to him. “I found them a long time ago, when I was analyzing the Residents’ data.”

“Yes, I am aware. And you never told anyone, besides Crane. You keep secrets well.”

“Where are they, who’s running them?”

“There’s one in Florida, Arizona, Kansas, Washington, and Alaska. They have five of their own Sovereign, people much like us, managing the District. Those five Districts are run by the original Entities, scattered within the managing Sovereign. They are the ones who planned this entire project, and there are more, all over the world.”

“But why, what’s the reason for this?”

“Population control. Nature was always able to do it herself with plagues, diseases, flus, droughts, and floods, but we've been able to defend ourselves against them, and as a result the population has bloomed into an uncontrollable virus, tarnishing our planet. We needed to act, and there were some that felt this was the best option. The governments weren't working. The wars were getting worse. It was only a matter of time before someone launched another atom bomb, it’s just all the other countries had their own. You know what would have happened. If we didn’t do this. It was time to start over, before things got worse.”

“You believed in this… this plan?” I ask him.

“I thought it was the best way to select the finest of the species to continue on. I don't agree with the bombings, but it was the fastest way to disable the society. Be thankful that you and your family were chosen. This wasn't a sudden happening. This event has been planned and in the works for years, all over the world. We expect the population die offs to begin in phases. First from the bombings, then illness and injury, famine, and by the remaining population’s own destruction. They will start killing each other, form alliances, gangs, and the Districts will remain secure, selecting from the good Survivors when necessary and leaving the bad Survivors to kill themselves off. But we will always be searching for the Sovereign we missed, they will always be allowed in.”

“And if you failed, if this project failed, what then, Morris? What would you have done after obliterating the free world?” It’s a question I can’t help but ask.

He shakes his head. “There was no option for failure. We knew this when we started. Japan was a success, and now the U.S., Canada was reformed ten months ago, as well as Australia. The Reformation is occurring all over the world as we speak.”

“How do you know they were a success? We have no communication with the outside world.”

“You may not, but we do. The Entities converse on a weekly basis with updates, news, ideas to help the populations cope. Phoenix has been the most successful, and we have you to thank for much of that.”

“Why are you telling me this? I’ve barely done a thing to help, all I’ve done is ruin these people’s lives.”

“Because I am a Funding Entity and I'm dying. I don’t have much time left. Now, I am passing my power on to you. You will be the first new Entity.”

“I want nothing to do with this. I don’t want your seat. I don’t want to be a Funding Entity!” I tell him, shaking my head in disbelief.

“It’s too late. We’ve decided, and it’s final.”

“Who else then? Who else is an Entity?”

“Crane, Alexander, and Elvis.” They were here the whole time, right next to me, directly under my nose. Morris and Elvis befriending me, getting close to Lina. Crane my nemesis, threatening me at every turn. And Alexander remaining as passive as ever. “You’ll learn about the others later.”

I watch Morris as he speaks, listening closely to the rasp in his breathing. “What are you dying of?”

“A variety if things. There's my heart, it hasn't been ticking the same, and the guilt of knowing what I took part in, being responsible for all those deaths out there. I know it's time. Some can live with what they’ve done, but it’s taken a toll on me, these things always do for those who were pure of heart.”

“What about the Reformation political group everyone was talking about before the bombings? How do they fit in?”

“You must not have made the connection, Andromeda. The Reformation, the Entities, they are one in the same.” I pause to think about the information he’s just given me. “You are not to speak of it. The District Residents are not to know who we are, and the children are not to know. The Funding Entities know this, I know this, Crane knows this, they selected you to know. You are the youngest of the Sovereign, you will carry this information until you die, and at the last moment you will choose someone to pass it on to. The world as we knew it will no longer exist. I will not threaten you with punishment because I know the one Crane delivered to you was enough.”

It’s those words that make me wonder if Crane was really so secretive in kidnapping me, and if others knew the entire time what was happening, waiting until the last minute to rescue me. “If this is about survival of the species then how do you know you are doing the right thing? Darwin even said it’s not the intelligence, it's the ability to adapt.” He just watches me, my face twisting in confusion. “Why did you choose me? Why was I chosen for this? I am nothing special. I don’t want this.”

“No, Andromeda, you are more than that, you were chosen because you are strong enough to handle this and smart enough to adapt. You always have, in everything that you’ve done. We’ve been watching you for a long time. Right now, in this moment, you are responsible for reworking the entire human race, for creating better people who don't have to suffer with poverty or illness-” I don’t give him a chance to finish.

“This is not my place, my plan. I've ruined their lives. That’s all I did. I took away their freedom, their ability to control their own future. We tell them what to do, what to wear, what to eat, where to work, who to reproduce with. There is nothing great in that.” I shake my head, trying to control the raising panic in my chest. I don’t want this, and this is not me. The things I’ve done, it was all because I was scared of a tiny man, it was not because I wanted this.

Morris interrupts my thoughts. “What would they have had to look forward to, before now? They are happy. They have meaning again. They will be thankful for all that you have done, your hard work, your sacrifices, all that you have given them.”

“I don’t believe it, Morris. And these people who were chosen, the best of the human race, what happens to them?”

“They will rise up and care for the others just as you have. They will make strides in medicine, research, advance our technologies. Think of the energy we could refocus. There’s space travel, allowing the protected species to once again populate the earth, advances in medicine, cure cancer. It will be much easier when the world isn't controlled by the poor who are fighting for their share of everyone else’s prospers.”

“And what happens to me? To my family? Where do we go from here?”

“That, Andromeda, is for you to determine.”

We sit in silence for a long time. I listen to the sound of the songbirds chirping outside the window, the buses driving by, the children laughing as they play in their yards. Morris squeezes my hand.

“Andromeda, there’s one last thing.” He pauses, long enough for him to recover from a bout of coughing. “I don’t want to do this to you, but the Entities have made a decision before you can go on, their last decision before you become one of them.”

I don’t see how it could get much worse than this already. “What?” I ask.

“You have to choose a pair.”

“No,” I answer instantly, shaking my head. This is too much, too much information, too much to think about already, and now Morris drops this bomb on my head.

“We can’t have the values of the District ruined by this. Of all people, the one who pairs the Residents, they look up to you, they trust you with their future. You have to follow the rules. Everyone has a pair. We will have no fatherless children here.”

I want to laugh-the first scandal, being blamed on me. “This whole thing is a scandal, Morris. The creation of the Districts, the bombings, it’s the biggest scandal in the history of man. And now you want to pin this on me? All I’ve ever wanted was to live my life in peace, to raise my family. That is why I stopped doing genetic research. This is too much.” I stand, walking away from his bedside, pacing the room, trying to calm my racing heart. The fluttering in my stomach getting stronger, harder. I lay my hand on my bulging abdomen, trying to soothe the baby back to sleep.

“We never asked you who the father was. We can only assume it’s one of a few people. Either way, Andromeda, you need to choose someone to raise that child with you.”

I continue to shake my head in disbelief, pacing. Now they care what I want. It’s now at this desperate moment with Morris dying-that they want to give me a choice in my life, in my daughter’s life. All we wanted was to escape, to be free, but it’s too late now.

“Anyone, it has been discussed that we will even consider releasing Ian to you, if that’s what you want.”

Oh my God, Ian. I sit back down next to Morris. I think to the few times we’ve talked since he’s been taken off the medication. At first he was confused, now angry and unsure of himself. But each time I was with him, I didn’t have that feeling, the one that made me say yes an instant after he asked me to marry him. That feeling that I had to have him, that he was mine. It was gone and I was only filled with sadness and guilt at the fact that I ruined us. What we had is in the past, we will never be able to recover that. No, I can’t pull Ian back into this. He has another child, another pair. He’s been through enough. All I can do is leave him to recover. I’m sure Crane would not take to any more distractions. It took him long enough to recover from the medication, and now he’s trying to figure out what is wrong with the reactor and get it back up to full power. Another distraction, which could impede his job, could have dire effects on his life. Crane won’t go for it. He’s distracted the Entities before so he could perform his own method of punishment. No, I can’t do that to Ian. I can’t hurt him more.

That leaves Adam, or some stranger to choose from the population. Or perhaps I could just ignore them, the demands from the Entities, especially now that I know who they are. Perhaps I could just go on with two fatherless children.

“Andromeda?” Morris asks, just before erupting into another fit of coughing.  He covers his mouth with a tissue, when he pulls it away he tries to crumple it in his hand, but not before I see the flecks of blood. “When my soul has left this earth, you will take my place. Until then you need to find it within yourself to follow the guidelines, find a pair for yourself.”

It is the worst last wish I have ever heard from a dying man.

It must be the hormones, the information that Morris just dumped on me, or maybe seeing the blood on his tissue. I stand to pace the room again and to get myself a drink of water before telling him goodbye so I can return to the Pasture and contemplate my future, again. But as I stand, I notice bright sparks clouding my vision. I feel myself stagger, reaching out to grab the back of the chair but I miss, my head feeling heavy and foggy.

“Andromeda?” I hear Morris ask. It sounds like he’s under water, or maybe that I am. I can’t focus. My knees give out. I can sense that I’m falling and I try to reach out and grab something-anything-to stop myself, but it’s no use. The last thing I can will myself to do is turn slightly to the side so I don’t land on my stomach and on the baby.

--

Someone is pulling at my eyelids, shining a bright light into my eyes. It feels like the sun is shining straight into my cornea causing my head to throb. I raise my hand to push them away, but someone stops me, holding my hand still.

“It’s okay. She’s conscious.” I recognize Dr. Akiyama’s voice as I blink the brightly colored blobs from my vision.

“What happened?” I ask as I look around the room.

It’s only the doctor, Sam, and Adam, sitting in the corner of the room.

“You fainted.” Dr. Akiyama crosses his arms, looking concerned.

“What?” I ask.

“Are you feeling ok, Andie?” I hear Sam ask from the chair next to me.

“I’m fine,” I tell him.

“Your blood pressure is a little high,” Dr. Akiyama continues.

“I’m sure it is,” I snap back at him.

“You need to relax more. You’re into the second trimester now.”

“That’s a nice joke, Doc.” I try to push the conversation with Morris away from my mind.

“We did a sonogram while you were out, just to check the baby and make sure he was okay.” I glance over to Adam, who’s watching our conversation intently, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The gray uniform shirt pulled tight against his biceps.

I turn my attention back to the doctor. “Did you say he?”

“Yes, you’re having a boy, congratulations.” He smiles, waiting for my reaction. I’m sure it’s not what he had hoped. I stare at the wall, holding back tears. “If you don’t take it easy I’m going to have to admit you. Of all people, you know what can happen with high blood pressure during pregnancy.” I just shake my head at him. I do know. Seizures, blood clots, liver failure. It’s not good. “I’ll check on you later,” he tells me.

As Dr. Akiyama leaves the room. I turn to Sam, trying to avoid Adam’s glare from the back of the room. He just raises his eyebrows at me. “Are you going to talk to him?” I press my lips together, trying to control my expressions. “I talked to him already, Andie, it’s your turn.” He stands up, walking across the room towards the door. “Don’t open this door until you two have held a decent conversation with each other.” He points his finger at both of us then closes the door behind him, clicking the latch into place.

Now it’s just Adam and me. We only look at each other for a long time. I’m afraid to speak, afraid that he is still so mad at me. I reach up, grasping the owl charm between my fingers, trying to think of what to say. What could I say to redeem myself? To let him know I’m sorry I never told him, that I’m sorry he had to find out from someone we both despise.

The words of Morris are fresh in my mind. I need someone, before I can take my place as Sovereign when he dies. The thought of Morris dying brings me sadness because he’s the one I’ve always been able to rely on, the one who truly looked out for me and Lina besides Adam. Now I’m being forced to choose my own pair, at a time when the only two men I have to choose from I’ve pushed as far away as I possibly can. Still, I have that longing, that human need to have someone continue on with me. I can’t deny it any longer.

Adam moves first, walking towards me, sitting in Sam’s seat next to the bed. Close enough for me to smell him, to see the tired lines under his eyes, worse than they were just a few hours ago when he drove me here. It’s strange, that I could muster all the courage to speak to an entire community of people just a few weeks ago, and now I can’t even muster an ounce of it to start a conversation with the one person I can trust here.

“I’m sorry,” Adam starts.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper back. “I should have told you as soon as I found out. But you said…” I sigh, searching for the right words. “We both said it isn’t right to bring a child into this.”

He reaches forward, pulling me towards him, pulling me onto his lap, like he used to. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck, trying not to cry.

“It’s a boy,” he whispers in my ear.

I pull away from him, wiping at my face. I take his hand and place it on my swollen stomach so he can feel the motion of the baby inside. I watch his face closely, waiting for the frown or the anger that has accompanied his face for so long, but it never shows. Instead, a slight smile starts to spread across his lips as he looks up to me. He stares into my eyes, his face so close, and presses his lips to mine.

Dr. Akiyama releases me from the hospital, under strict orders that I am to return home and rest. I stop to visit Morris before I leave, only to find him sleeping, the rasp in his breathing worse.

Part III

The Tour

CHAPTER nineteen

“You’re going on tour,” Crane tells me as we stand in the Committee room.

“Actually, I’m not going anywhere,” I reply with the same disdain in my voice that I used to use. I’ve finally found myself able to stand up to him and I can look him in the eye without breaking out in a panicked sweat.

“The other Districts need you. There’s tension. The Entities want you to repeat the speech.”

“So, you want me to repeat the speech?” I ask. “I don’t really care, Crane. My presence will do nothing for the other Districts. The only reason it worked here was because I knew these people. The Residents from the other Districts don’t have any idea who I am. It will only make things worse. I’m not leaving here. I have Lina and I’m pregnant. I’m not risking my life for people I don’t know.”

“Ah, Andromeda. You have been chosen to go, therefore, you will go. And before you return you will have chosen your own pair. Before you give birth to that child.” He points harshly at my abdomen. “Think of it as your initiation as a Funding Entity.”

“Who else is going?” I ask crossing my arms, trying to cover myself, still ashamed of the situation I am in.

“Colonel Waters will be personally responsible for you and Alexander. Morris is not well. So that leaves me to run things until you both return.”

“I’m taking Lina,” I tell him defiantly. I can’t leave her behind with him. “And Sam,” I add.

“No, you will not.” He smoothes his tie as he speaks, probably trying to control his anger at my disagreeing with him. “The train is fast, you will only be gone a week.”

“And if something happens out there?” I ask him. “I’m not leaving the last of my family here with you.”

“I wouldn’t count on anything happening,” he replies. “You’re going. End of discussion.” With that he turns on his heel and leaves the committee room.

I turn to Morris who has walked up behind us. “I can’t go,” I tell him as our eyes meet. “I can’t leave Lina here, or Sam. They are all I have, Morris.”

He nods his head slowly and I watch his face closely as he speaks, the skin now sagging and hued yellow. “You must go, Andromeda.”

“But-”

He holds his hand up. “No, I will not allow anything to happen, neither will Elvis, or Sam, for that matter. You have to go. You need to see what the other Districts are like. Make preparations, you won’t have much time.”

What they are like? I wouldn’t think the other Districts are much different than ours. And I don’t really care what they are like.

“Andie,” Adam calls me from the doorway. “Are you ready?”

“See you soon, Morris,” I tell him as I turn to leave. There’s something about the look on his face that makes me think I need to prepare more than just myself for this trip.

No one has left the District since the bombings and the train hasn’t run since Adam came barreling home on it with Sam and a load of supplies in tow. I’m sure there is tension in the other Districts as we had here, but what do these people expect? Still, there is no reason to send me out there unless Crane has something else planned.

He always has something else planned.

--

“Crane tells me we are leaving the District?” Adam asks as we walk to his vehicle.

“Yes,” I reply, waiting as Adam steps ahead of me to open the door of the SUV.

Since we reconnected at the hospital he’s been acting a little too careful around me, almost to the point of annoyance. Before we would go weeks and months without seeing each other, both of us immersed in our work until we were brought together again. And then it was like we were never apart, we couldn’t stay away from each other. But now there’s more. Now there’s the baby.

Sam tells me that Adam plans to do everything in his power to protect us. Which I thought he was doing before, but now he’s surely making his presence known. Staying with me at the Pasture, calling me each afternoon, and being home for dinner each night. He has the time now that the Residents have settled. The Volker recruits have been trained, their duties assigned, and the District has been running smoothly since I made the speech, in which I promised to protect the Residents. Truthfully, though, I can’t do much to protect them. The damage has already been done and their futures decided, even their children’s futures have been decided.

Still, no Survivors have found the gates of the District. Which means there is no one to convert, no one new to decide for.

I watch the Residents on the streets as we drive out of town. It’s only been a month since the speech, a little longer since Crane found my list of the pairings, but I can already see women who are visibly pregnant. I look down at my own stomach, which sticks out much further than theirs. I’m almost to the third trimester.

My thoughts are interrupted by Adam’s hand on mine. When I look over he shoots me a smile. I would like to return it, but I can’t. I’m afraid he’s getting too soft since he found everything out. He’s a little too relaxed, thinking we are safe, accepting the terms that have been handed to us. I don’t like it.

After my meeting with Morris, I told Adam everything. I took him out to the fields of the Pasture to be sure we wouldn’t be heard. I told him about the plan, about how the Funding Entities were trying to preserve the earth, the human race, and our natural resources. I told him that I was to become one of them, an Entity, after Morris died. I told him who the Entities were within the Phoenix District, but I didn’t know who the others were. He barely reacted when I told him that I was now breaking the golden rule bestowed upon me: tell no one until you are about to die and that person takes your place as an Entity.

Truthfully though, I could die at any time. Heck, I almost did myself in after the bombings. It’s only now that I look back and see that I was barely functioning. Then there’s childbirth, without modern medicine and the technologies that we once had. There’s a strong likelihood that I might not make it through delivering this baby. I did keep one secret from him. I haven’t told him that I’ve been ordered to find myself a pair, to create a new family for myself. I haven’t even told him that they offered to give Ian back to us. As Sovereign and future Entity I cannot have a child without a father, I cannot taint the values expected of the District Residents and Sovereign.

Adam has been having his fun, playing house for eight weeks. And it’s not like I haven’t enjoyed it myself, but we need to be realistic. I can’t look at him anymore without thinking of Ian. And now this tour I’m being forced to go on, it’s nothing more than a target on my back. A way for Crane to resume his control over my life, for him to threaten my family. With me gone Lina is exposed, and I can’t have Crane thinking he can have her, whatever his plans for her may be.

“We aren’t safe,” I tell Adam as he drives.

“Don’t worry.”

I shake my head at him. “I worry every minute of my life. And now Crane is ordering us away on a tour of the other Districts. Doesn’t that ring a few bells for you?” I can’t see him acting like this, not with his background. He’s become a little too accepting, and perhaps he’s forgotten that he was on a mission before I became pregnant.

“Not now,” he stops me, dropping the tone of his voice a few notches. I know it’s because we are in a District vehicle, anyone could be listening.

I resume my people watching until we get to the outskirts of town. Then I watch the tall trees, thick with summer leaves. It’s no wonder we haven’t been found yet. It’s been over two years and the forests have grown in, threatening to overtake the few roads we still use.

When we get to the Pasture, Adam throws the SUV into park before it’s fully stopped. He jumps out as the vehicle lurches forward and walks swiftly to the passenger side. Adam reaches across and unbuckles my seatbelt. He takes my wrist and pulls me out of the vehicle and walks me out to the field behind our house.

“What do you know?” he asks me when we get an acceptable distance away.

“Crane is planning something. I know it. He’s sending us away, out there.” I point South of us, towards where civilization used to lie. “And he won’t let me take Lina or Sam. Who knows what’s happened out there since the bombings. What if we never make it back?”

He reaches for me, squeezing my shoulders, staring into my eyes, forcing a smile. “We’ll make it back, Andie. I’ve been out there before. I’ll make sure we come back.”

“Snap out of it, Adam! This isn’t a normal run. We are touring all the Districts. We have to circle all of North America and survive whatever is going on out there. And I’m pregnant. What if I die out there, what if I lose the baby?”

My words do exactly what I was hoping they would-they evoke memories. Memories of loved ones lost. His family wasn’t mine, but I still remember him kneeling at their gravesites. I’m sure the last thing he wants to do is repeat that with me or his child. I watch him closely to see the change in his eyes, a slight cast covers their light blue hue, and I’m sure it’s not from the darkening sky. He’s snapping out of whatever stupor he’s been in the past few weeks.

“I won’t let that happen, Andie.” He stalks off, leaving me in the field with just the Guardians. I watch as he walks towards the barn that holds Elvis’ office. Then I leave to wait for Lina and Astrid to get done with their schooling.

Adam comes home just as I’m setting dinner on the table. I can hear Sam telling the girls to wash up from the living room. While the girls giggle in the bathroom, Adam and Sam enter the kitchen at the same time.

“We need to talk,” Adam starts.

“After the girls are in bed,” I tell him.

Sam raises his eyebrow, looking between us. As much as I want to prepare for this trip, and what might happen, I don’t want to alarm the children. But I’m sure they can tell from the uncomfortable silence during dinner that something is wrong. When we finish, I leave the men to clean up as I get the girls ready for bed.

Just as I tuck Lina in she asks, “Mommy, is something wrong?”

I run my hand over her hair and kiss her nose. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Now get some rest.” I sit in the rocking chair for a few minutes, waiting to hear the steady breaths of sleeping children before I get up to leave.

When I reach the kitchen I can tell Sam and Adam have already started discussions.

“Sounds fishy,” Sam tells me as I sit at the table.

“I know. Sam, if something happens you have to take Lina, you have to get her out of here.”

“I know. I will,” he replies, leaning back in his chair.

“She knows maps Sam. She knows how to get out of here. She knows about the hidden basement in the ruins near the lake, she knows about the tree house near the old highway. I’ve made her memorize everything. She could draw you a map.”

“I know, Andie. Ms. Black always has Lina draw the District map for the class, it’s impressive.”

“She can shoot too,” Adam interjects. “Elvis has her trained pretty good with the small bow, and she has descent aim with the pistol.”

“She’s only seven, Andie.” Sam turns to me. I know this has got to be the worst thing a person could ask their little brother. But he is no longer a child. He tried to protect these children when the Volker came on tattooing day and I have every confidence in him that he will do it again.

“It doesn’t matter, Sam. If something happens to us, or if Crane pulls another one of his stunts, you take her and you get out,” I tell him. “We’ll find you later.”

“What about Blithe, Elvis, the other children? I can’t leave them all.” He looks down at the table. I know what he’s thinking, that he can’t leave Astrid behind. She clings to Sam like he’s her father. “And what about Ian?”

That causes me to sit up straight in our chair. Ian is on his way to being made Sovereign. He’s been off the medication for a few weeks now and Crane has been watching him closely. Once the medication was gone Ian got the third nuclear reactor up and running within two days. The electrified fence has been up to full power ever since and Ian has been steadily making his way into Crane’s good graces. It won’t be long now. He’ll be set, protected, just like I had hoped. Crane has even brought him to Headquarters a few times, propping him outside the entrance. I’m sure just to distress me further. It’s bad enough I have to see him and remember everything, while he stands there, watching us, confused and unknowing.

Morris tells me he’s had outbursts of anger, that he’s standoffish at times. I’m not sure what they were expecting. Whatever they did to him, whatever medication they gave him to forget us, it didn’t work exactly as they had hoped.

“Ian is safe,” I reply to Sam. “Crane needs him too much.”

“But Crane needs you too,” he responds, “for the pairings.”

“Yes, he does. He wants to make sure he can control me, and he knows he can only do that by dangling the ones I love in front of me. I think the speech was the worst thing I could have done. Now the Residents trust me, they trust my word, and Crane wants to make sure I relay his messages.”

We pause for a moment, each absorbing my words.

Finally, Adam speaks up. “I’ll get some things together for you, Sam. We’ll go over your options. You’re strong, you can do this. You handled yourself well during the bombings. I have to admit, you even scared me a little when you walked up on me inspecting your crumbled apartment.”

Sam gets up, heading for the door, his brow wrinkled in thought. He lets out a loud breath and runs his hands through his already disheveled hair. The air between us hangs heavy with doubt, fear, and my undying urge to pack my shit up and run as far away from here as possible with all of them in tow. But I know we’d never make it far, not without knowing what’s going on out there, in the outside world. I let Adam walk Sam to the door as I check on the girls to make sure they’re sleeping. The only thing that moves when I crack open the door is Stevie’s head from the foot of Lina’s bed.

“We’re going to bed now,” I tell Stevie. It’s then I realize, while I’m talking to the dog, that if something happens there’s no way Lina could leave Stevie behind. And Stevie wouldn’t stay behind. She would follow them. She would protect them, just like the Guardians. I can only hope that things go smoothly.

Adam is standing in the hallway waiting for me as I close the bedroom door. He barely waits for me to latch it before he’s walking towards me, pulling me to him, lifting me into his arms with one swift movement. I don’t have a chance to say anything before his lips are pressing against mine with want and need, but there’s something different this time. I can feel it in the way he walks to the bedroom, like he can’t possibly wait a second longer. We’ve been enjoying sleeping at night, free from the nightmares. But I stopped it at that, and all this time, both of us have been struggling to keep our cool around each other. It must have been me saying that I could die that’s bringing out this urgency, or maybe it’s the fear that we could lose each other and those we love, again, too soon.

His movements are usually methodical, but now he works hastily at removing our clothes, fumbling with some of the buttons. I would have stopped him already, the memories of Ian in my mind, but for some reason, right now I can’t. Soon I am left wearing nothing but the necklace he gave me. Adam reaches out, tracing the outline of my face, my eyes, my lips, following his fingertips with a slow trail of kisses. It’s too dark to see his eyes, to try and figure out what he’s thinking. Adam’s fingers trail down my neck, across the curve of my collarbone and the owl charm, around my back, tracing the thick scars and the small tattoo along my ribcage, leaving a tingling trail in their wake. His hand stops on my full, round stomach, and I can feel the flutter of the baby moving under his palm. He stops for a moment and bends down, kissing my swollen abdomen. He returns to my lips, lifting me again, only to set me down on the bed a moment later, his face hovering over mine.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he tells me.

His words hang in the air, as though he’s about to say more, but I stop him with my lips, kissing him. I can’t bear to hear anymore, because if he’s about to say what I think he is, I can’t hear it now. Deep down, it may be true, but I can’t speak of it, I can’t let him take it to that level. Because falling in love, after all that has happened, is something I can’t afford to let myself do right now.

--

Over the next few days we make preparations. At first Lina is upset that I’m leaving, but she gradually accepts that we have no choice. We move Sam into the house and pack emergency bags in case he needs to make a quick escape. Blithe and Elvis seem uneasy about us leaving. But since Elvis is one of the Entities, his vote was included in the decision for us to leave. Even if he voted against it, I still find him hard to trust right now.

Elvis gives us everything we ask for: pistols, bullets and four of the Guardians for the trip. Adam has managed to secure four Volker guards to come with us, but I trust the Guardians more. They aren’t human, they aren’t as easily swayed by secrets and orders and Crane. Their duties are ingrained in their DNA.

Before I know it, the time has come for us to leave. Adam has his vehicle packed with our things. Clothing, supplies, and the four large Guardians weigh down the back end of the large SUV. We say our goodbyes.

Saying goodbye to Sam was hard, Lina was the hardest. Sam and Adam had to pull us apart, but not before I could whisper in her ear, “Remember everything you’ve been taught. I love you, my little Catalina.” Stevie looked back and forth between me and Lina, whining. “Stay with Lina,” I tell her, she promptly trots back to where Sam is holding Lina, sitting at his feet.

As we pull away from the Pasture I can’t help but think that last time I drove away from my home, my world changed forever. I’m just hoping the same thing doesn’t happen this time. Because I’m not sure how much more change I can deal with.

--

Crane greets us at the tracks. Morris is there, standing with a cane, looking sicker than the day I visited him in the hospital. The Volker guards pack our belongings onto the train. The one person I wasn’t expecting to be there, Ian, is standing at Crane’s side, watching with the slight look of confusion, which always seems to be present on his face these days.

We say our goodbyes and I can’t help but feel like we were being sent off, rather than going on a short trip. Just before stepping onto the train I looked back to see Ian, still watching. I risk damaging Crane and Adam’s trust by talking to him, but I don’t care anymore. I get the feeling that I may never be able to utter another word to him in this lifetime. I walk over to him, not caring what the others think, and wrap my arms around his neck. It has been over two years since I’ve hugged him, since I’ve touched him. Unlike the last time, instead of pausing and stiffening, he wraps his arms around my back and I hear him take a deep breath in as he bends his head down to my neck. It’s subtle enough so the others may not notice what he just did, but I do. And it makes me think that maybe he isn’t as confused as he lets people believe.

I know I can’t stay like this for long, embracing my estranged husband, or I risk Crane getting suspicious. I raise myself up on my toes, making it look like I intend to kiss him on the cheek, but instead I bring my lips close to his ear. “Remember you have a daughter, Ian. Her name is Catalina and she’s at the Pasture, it’s not far from here.” I turn out of his grasp and walk onto the train where my travel partners wait for me, avoiding the curious glances from Crane and Adam.

The train car has been outfitted with seven seats and a single table, just enough for those of us who are leaving. A bathroom has been added and private sleeping quarters. It looks like the only improvements the engine car has had in a long time, no attempts were made to clean the dark stains off the floor, though.

I watch Adam as he starts the engine, remembering how last time I was aboard this train, Lina and I were stashed in the back car hiding in the dark, trying to escape. It seems strange now, actually leaving the District with permission. The worst part is leaving my child behind. I know Crane knows this. I knew it before I looked out the engine car window to see him smiling at me. What I didn’t expect to see, was Ian standing behind Crane, winking at me.

Now sometimes a wink can mean nothing. But for us, when Ian let loose a wink, it meant a great deal. I’ve always thought it was a creepy gesture and Ian knew this well. So well that anytime I was stressed or upset, or trying to get out of a conversation at a company picnic or a family reunion, he’d always shoot me a wink. It’s how I knew he was on my side and the worst would be over, soon enough.

I can see my reflection in the glass window of the train car, it’s a look of surprise. Because now I’m sure that Ian may not be as confused as he’s letting everyone else think. And perhaps he might actually have it in him to be creating an agenda of his own. I’ve never bothered to ask all this time, I’ve just assumed he was as unapproachable as I’ve been told. But the wink, the wink tells me otherwise.

--

“What’s with the dogs?” Alexander asks from behind me.

I turn to see him watching the large Guardians who have each taken to a corner of the engine car.

“They protect us,” I tell him as I turn back around in my seat, staring out the window, trying to get a glimpse at what’s left of civilization. But all I see is a green blur on each side of the car as we speed through the forests. Adam said I shouldn’t expect to see much since the tracks are hidden and the train moves at an alarming speed. Still, there’s the hope that I might see something, that I might have closure, that I might be able to finally accept our new lives.

The Volker and Adam review the course for the tour. The first stop is the Florida District, known as the Crystal River District. Adam expects to be there by evening, running the train at full throttle, as long as we don’t hit any detours. I have nothing left to do but sit in uncomfortable silence and think. Morris sent me with an itinerary and the transcript from my speech since I was so nervous I barely remember any of it. He also sent the blue dress and Blithe instructed me on how to do my makeup. But I doubt whatever I do will look as good as her work.

“If you want to see what happened,” Adam tells us. “You’ll be able to see the city in just a few minutes.”

I stand, moving to the front of the car to stand next to Adam. I can see nothing, just green as the train starts to pull up a steep incline. Adam points out the side window. I watch as what’s left of the city appears before us. The view is dreadful. The University Hospital, where I used to work, is a half crumbled mess. Entire sections of the city are pockmarked with black holes from where the bombs landed. The highway has crumpled. From this high up we can see a few fires burning and a small cluster of people roaming one of the streets.

“I suspect that’s how the remainder of the U.S. looks,” Alexander says from behind us.

None of us answer, we just stare in awe. Adam pushes the train back into high gear. Seeing the devastation of the city where I once worked is daunting. Since there’s no way to escape the sullen feeling of the engine car cabin, and without anyone to talk to or anyone I’m interested in talking to, I leave the cabin to find one of the private sleeping bunks and attempt to rest. Two of the Guardians follow me into the narrow car, waiting as I choose the farthest bunk from the door, the only one with a window. One Guardian jumps up on the narrow bed, as I get comfortable, curling up at my feet. I look to the remaining Guardian sitting on the floor.

“Only one of you, there’s not enough room for two,” I tell it.

It looks at me with what I can only assume is disappointment as it settles on the floor beside me. That is how the day continues. I’m too upset from leaving Lina. I’m too nervous to sleep. And paired with the anticipation of seeing something out the window, I can’t close my eyes. So I just lay here, wishing I were home.

By mid-afternoon there’s a knock on the bunk door. I lean back to see Adam walk in carrying a plate of food and a bottle of water.

“You should eat something,” he says, walking towards me and setting the plate down on the bed.

“How far have we gotten?” I ask.

“We’re going through the Carolinas now, should be out of the mountains soon.”

I look down to the plate he brought me. It contains dry bread and an apple. “I see Crane really went all out for the provisions,” I tell him. I take a bite of the bread, waiting for Adam to say something.

“I’m hoping to pick a few things up while we are out. We might be able to locate some more appetizing provisions.”

“You’re picking up supplies?” I ask him around the piece of bread I’m chewing on.

“I have a list, some things we need.”

“I thought this tour was strictly to unite the Districts, not search for supplies?”

“Not everyone knows about it,” he responds, watching the large dogs as they sleep. “What was that before we left, with Ian?” He asks, looking at me, staring into my eyes, his face calm.

I figured it wouldn’t look good.

“Nothing.” I shove more of the bread in my mouth, hoping he’ll stop asking questions and resume his post driving the train. But he doesn’t, he crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for a better answer. I swallow and take a sip of the water. “I told him goodbye. I didn’t think I’d have another chance. We might not make it back, you know.”

I turn to look back out the window hoping he can’t tell I’m lying, because usually he can, and I don’t want him to know what I think, that Ian may be planning something. Adam must give up because he doesn’t say anything before leaving.

--

It’s not long before the air on the train becomes heavy and humid. Being late summer I suspected the southern weather would be hot, but this seems much worse. It’s almost unbearable. Just as the train starts to slow I can see a heavy rain falling outside. I get up and head to the engine car to sit with the others. I watch out the windows to see palm trees blown over and a torrential downpour.

“What’s with the weather?” I ask.

“Hurricane season,” Alexander responds.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

He shakes his head.

I look around the cabin. Our four Volker escorts are seated, or standing in the corners. If they were speaking before I came back out here, they aren’t now. I settle in a seat and watch as Adam brings the train to a stop in front of a fence that’s very similar to our own. The gate opens without Adam needing to punch in a code, and we pull up at a true train station with a platform and enclosed area.

As we exit the train we are greeted on the platform by a man in heavy rain gear. “Welcome, I am Emanuel Torres, Crystal River District Sovereign,” his voice has a thick Spanish sounding accent. “Come, the others are at Headquarters.”

He hands us each a heavy rain parka, stopping to shake hands with Alexander. I’m wondering if Emanuel is one of the Crystal River Entities. Just before he leads us outside I notice his sleeve is pulled up just far enough for us to see the image of a dark blazing crystal across his wrist.

I have never been to Florida. I have never experienced a hurricane. From what I can tell this isn’t the strongest hurricane they’ve seen, but it’s strong enough to almost blow my feet out from under me. I’m thankful for Adam’s grip on my elbow as we walk swiftly across an open parking lot.

The Crystal River District Headquarters is small and looks to be the original town hall of the area. The building is just one level, with a low pitched roof and wide porch. Two deeply tanned Volker guard the front door, their uniforms the same as our Volker. We are led down a sparsely decorated hallway to a large office, laid out much like our own Committee meeting room. There are three other men waiting for us, the other Sovereign.

Emanuel introduces us. There is Richard Ruiz, who looks like a young banker in his business suit. He’s overdressed for this heat, his hair slicked back off his face. When he shakes my hand, I see he wears an expensive looking diamond studded watch. Next is Mateo Pena and Javier Vega, who look like they could be brothers, or closely related with their tan skin and dark features. The only difference is their clothes, and Javier wears glasses. They seem nice enough, smiling and shaking our hands. Then there is Colonel Ramirez, the local Volker Sovereign, and he’s wearing plain clothes, not the usual uniform that Adam wears while he’s on duty. For a moment I remember that Crane told me, the Sovereign are some of society’s greatest intellectuals. I wonder what they did before this? Before they were subjected to rule over these people. The thought doesn’t last long. Because I also remember that amongst these people are the other Funding Entities. I’m sure they’ll be watching us closely and reporting back to Crane.

We sit as Emanuel hands out bound copies of the Crystal River District Manifesto. He starts talking, updating us on the District’s improvements, the weather problems, their progresses and difficulties, their unruly Residents.

That’s where I interrupt him.

“You only have two-hundred Residents?” I ask Emanuel. “And you can’t control them? There was no point in us traveling all this way for two hundred people. We might as well consider this District a failure and close it, relocate the people, or release them.”

I close the Manifesto, trying not to slam the cover of it. Crane said this District was small, but this is tiny. I can’t see how Crane would let this District flounder for so long without a guiding hand to help it prosper.

“We had many more Residents and Sovereign, but they didn’t survive. We’ve lost too many to the heat, the hurricanes, diseases, and then there’s the alligators.” Emanuel turns to the other men who nod their heads in agreement.

I turn to Adam in disbelief. Alligators, he wants us to believe that he lost over half his population to alligators? That’s like saying he lost half the population to zombies. I’m not getting what has happened here. What went wrong?

“Who is your Volker Sovereign, again?” Adam asks.

“Colonel Ramirez.” Emanuel motions to the man standing at the corner of the room.

At least they have a Volker Sovereign assigned. I wonder if he has anywhere near as much training as Adam does.

“Does your train work?” Alexander asks.

Emanuel shakes his head. “Hasn’t worked since early last year, but we were given orders not to use it until Crane gave the okay.”

“I’ll take a look at it. I designed them,” Alexander tells him.

Now I see why Alexander was sent with us, at least Crane was gracious enough to provide us with our own engineer.

“Where are your Residents?” I ask.

“They’re all in the auditorium, waiting out the storm.”

“Are they medicated? Or have your titrations begun?”

“They are undergoing the titrations and everyone has been assigned to a faction.”

“And how are they unruly?” I ask him.

“A lot of people have died. A lot. Family members, entire families. Once we started the titrations, and people continued to die, it affected the Residents. Hard. People are sad, morale is down.”

“How long until the weather turns?” I ask.

“This storm should be gone by morning,” Emanuel tells me.

I turn to Alexander. “I think we should stop the titrations and get everyone back up to full doses. I make the speech tonight and then we help turn this place around in the morning. What do you think?” I ask him.

“Sounds good to me,” Alexander replies.

“Oh, Emanuel,” I stop him as he’s walking toward the computer at the head of the table. “There’s one last thing. I need someone from your population, a local, someone that everyone knows.”

“That’s easy,” Javier replies. “Colonel Ramirez grew up here. He was their Sheriff, before the changes.” Emanuel nods, agreeing with Javier.

“Suit up, Ramirez.” I take in his jeans and t-shirt. “This outfit will not do. You’re going on stage with me.”

--

I change into the blue dress, hiding most of it under the large raincoat. I forget the makeup and the hair tips Blithe showed me. In this heat and humidity my hair is already curling into an unruly mess, and the makeup would probably just melt off my face. This will have to do.

Crane has sent the video he showed in the Phoenix District. The auditorium is small here, and it’s easy to see the Resident’s watch in awe as they see what happened to the United States. Emanuel reads from their Manifesto, which is almost word for word the same as the Phoenix one. Then it’s my turn to talk. I introduce myself and explain where we have come from, what our District went through. Somewhere in the middle I force out the words from my Phoenix speech, ending with the Sovereign promise to protect them and lead them towards a better life.

When I finish there is nothing but silence, two-hundred sets of eyes stare at me. I can see the closer ones looking between me and Ramirez, who is finally dressed in a Volker uniform. They’re trying to make the connection between someone they know and someone they can trust.

I turn to Adam and Emanuel, preparing for a retreat. It didn’t work. Then it starts with one person, a clapping, a chanting, “Cabecilla, cabecilla, cabecilla,” soon they are all repeating it.

I lean towards Ramirez. “What does that mean?”

“Leader, they say you are a leader, like a ringleader, for the rebels…”

Oh no. I am not their leader and I definitely don’t want them thinking this is a group of rebels taking over. This is something I have to fix, now.

“How do you say it different, a political leader?” I ask Ramirez.

“That would be líder,” he tells me.

I raise my hand and lean into the microphone, motioning to Ramirez. “Líder,” I repeat to them as best I can. Eventually the chanting and clapping stops and I’m not sure if they’ve picked up on my attempt to name Colonel Ramirez as their leader or not.

“You need to say something, something inspiring,” I tell Ramirez under my breath. I move to the side so he can have the microphone.

“I don’t know what to say,” he tells me under his breath, his eyes revealing how hesitant he really is to stand up and take this oath in front of these people. Perhaps I should have said something to him before. I should have warned him. But there is no time now. He can’t show them he’s weak or timid, if Colonel Ramirez is going to be the true Volker Sovereign he needs to get his shit together. Because I want to go home. I am not coming back to this place to fix their problems again.

“Just repeat what I said,” I encourage him. “This is where you get your shit together Ramirez.”

“Many of you may remember me as your local Sheriff, Goyo Ramirez. But now, in this new time, we are your Sovereign, we will protect you, we…” he holds his arm out, gesturing to the other Crystal River Sovereign, “will lead you to a better tomorrow.”

I reach to his side, pulling up his sleeve and thrusting his arm into the air, repeating my gesture from my Phoenix District speech. If anything, it shows the Residents that we are marked, we are easily identifiable, we are the ones they can easily seek out.

I step back, leaving Ramirez at the podium while the crowd murmurs to each other. Then it starts, just as it did when I was done speaking, the clapping, the chanting. “Líder," they say, this time at Ramirez and the other Crystal River Sovereign.

To me, that seemed a little too easy. But the medication must be acting quickly. And these people have been suffering long enough, with the storms, the loss of the population. It’s easy to see in their eyes, even from the stage, that they are desperate, and with desperation comes easy manipulation.

--

Alexander and our Volker have decided to bunk at Headquarters for the night. I tell Adam that I can’t sleep knowing all those people are in the building and I beg him to take me out to the train. He caves when I bring up that there are four Guardians to safeguard the train.

Once outside, I’m glad to see the rain has digressed to a light sprinkle, the wind has died down to a soft breeze. Emanuel must’ve been correct in his prediction that the morning will free us from the hurricane.

“You did well,” Adam tells me as I change into dry sleeping clothes.

“I did exactly what I didn’t want to do. I just ruined someone else’s life. Now Ramirez is the one they trust and he will forever have to help the other Sovereign keep control over this District.”

“You don’t know Ramirez, he might enjoy the position you just put him in.”

“If he enjoys it, then we have a problem. He can’t be allowed to skew control of the Residents. Maybe Crane got lucky with me. I have no problem hiding out at the Pasture and only making myself seen when he needs me or when he pisses me off.”

“I’d say Crane didn’t get what he expected when he chose you,” Adam tells me as he pulls his t-shirt off.

“I think that might be the understatement of the century.”

I let Adam pull me down next to him so my head resting on his bent arm. Instead of him tucking his hand under my hip, like he usually does, he lets it rest on my bulging abdomen, feeling the baby roll around under my shirt. I know I should be happy that we’ve made it through our first day alive, but all I can think about is what’s happening at home and if Lina and Sam are safe.

--

Morning brings sunlight and heat. I roll over to find Adam already up, dressing in his Volker uniform.

“Do you have to wear that today?” I ask. He didn’t wear it on the way down. He wore the same thing as the last time we tried to escape, black pants and a black jacket. “I prefer you in normal clothes.”

“It makes me look authoritative,” he tells me. “Something these people need. Something Ramirez needs to see.”

We dress and leave the train car, releasing the Guardians to wander with us for the day. I follow Adam to the Committee room. Alexander and Emanuel are already sitting at the table. Richard, Mateo, and Javier are there also, plates riddled with crumbs sit on the table in front of them. I scan the room quickly, looking for the source of breakfast, but it seems whatever was there is gone now. Emanuel stands when he sees the Guardians trail in behind us.

“What are those?” he asks, pointing to the large dogs.

“Don’t worry about them, after a while you’ll forget they’re here,” I tell him. “How do you communicate with Crane?” I ask.

He points to the laptop at the head of the table. I walk over to the laptop and open it. The screen is set up similar to the ones we have in Phoenix, but there is one thing different, an icon in the shape of a bird, just like the one etched into the glass door of our committee room. It must link back to Phoenix. I click on the bird and the image of an office pops up. It looks nothing like our Committee meeting room and I can only assume its Crane’s office.

“What are you doing?” Emanuel asks.

“Calling home,” I tell him.  The computer emits a sound, not a ring but a choppy tone, something sounding similar to Morse code.

“No, stop!” Emanuel starts walking towards me. “I’m only allowed to contact him on Wednesdays. He gets very angry if I call on other days.”

“Well, it’s not you calling, it’s me.” I turn back to the screen and see Crane sit down in front of the computer.

“Ah, Andromeda, what a pleasant surprise,” Crane greets me, leaning towards the computer screen. “How are things in Florida?” he asks, folding his hands on the desk.

“Why didn’t you tell us Crystal River was a train-wreck? They’re down to two-hundred Residents.”

“Yes, well, if I had told you it would have only made it that much harder to get you to go there,” he replies with his smug smile.

“What are we suppose to do here?” I ask. “We can’t leave them like this.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out, that’s why I sent my best Sovereign.”

“This could take months, Crane, and I don’t have that kind of time.”

“Well then, I suggest you work quickly.”

I watch him press a button and the video screen disappears. Great, just great. I didn’t agree to this, not that I agreed to anything about this trip. But helping this District get back on its feet is something I don’t have time for.

This time I call the Committee meeting. And while I usually sit and listen at the Phoenix meetings, I take Crane’s place and manage this one. Even though I don’t want to. I just don’t have time to watch things fall into place. I have a deadline to get home and now we are falling hours, maybe even days, behind. I get no arguments from Alexander or Adam. I have the feeling that just like me, they want to get out of here, they would rather be elsewhere.

I find out that Crystal River was one of the last Districts to be set up. Their EMP went off right before the U.S. bombings. There wasn’t time to secure supplies or send help from Japan. Emanuel tells me the electrified fence still isn’t complete. Thankfully what is up is electrified by their nuclear reactor. Javier informs us they weren’t even able to collect all the people on the Funding Entities’ list to run the District. They have a small Volker force, an even smaller medical staff, and barely enough Residents to spread between the working factions. There are so many problems with this District that I don’t even know where to start.

Adam makes the first suggestion. “Since we’re unfamiliar with your region, let’s see some maps. Where your boundaries lie, where your main buildings are, how you have your factions divided.”

I let the men talk maps, my concentration interrupted by the grumbling of my stomach. I circle the room looking for any food they might have, but I find nothing. I head for the door, intending to go back to the train and get something from the rations we brought, secretly hoping that the quiet walk might help me form a plan for this place.

I leave the Committee room door open, knowing that at least two of the Guardians will trail behind me. As I near the front door I am greeted by a delicious smell. The Volker guarding the door holds it open as I walk outside, towards the large group of Residents standing in clusters around the parking lot. At the far end of the paved lot I can see smoke rising and something being turned over a fire. It smells like roasted meat, like bacon or steak, or a mixture of the two.

Just as I’m wishing I had eaten something for breakfast before leaving the train, and my stomach growls louder, someone hands me a plate with a steaming pile of the delicious smelling meat. I watch everyone around me talking and eating. I pull a piece of meat from the pile and chew it. It tastes just like it smells, smoky and savory. I put another piece in my mouth just as one of the Guardians walks over, knocking the plate out of my hand and onto the ground. It begins barking a roaring, deep bark. I remember that the Guardians don’t bark unless they sense danger, or when I’m doing something truly dumb. I just stare at the dog, feeling the savory meat hit my stomach, filling me with a sense of ease and relaxation. The Guardian continues to bark. Time seems to slow as I watch the dog. I turn around when I feel the pressure of a hand on my shoulder. It’s Adam, staring into my face, talking at me. At least, I think he’s talking at me. For some reason I feel like I can’t quite hear him. I try to focus hard on his lips as he speaks until I can make out what he’s saying.

“What happened?” he repeats.

I simply smile at him, feeling the muscles in my body relax.

“She ate the manatee,” a deeply tanned Crystal River Volker says from behind Adam.

“Manatee?” Adam asks. “You eat Manatee here?”

Emanuel appears at his side. “We don’t eat Manatee. The Residents do. It contains their medication.”

I see Adam’s face twist into a scowl and I’m not sure why. I want to get him some of the delicious manatee meat so he can feel like this too. So he can feel this warmth, this relaxing, blissful warmth. I haven’t felt this tranquil in years. But he’s holding onto my arm, pulling me back to him each time I try to wander away.

“Stop moving, Andie,” he tells me. I do as he says, standing at his side, watching the conversation going on around me. My desire to move is lost. “How much of the medication?” he asks Emanuel.

“It’s saturated with a full dose. She said to get them back up to full doses,” Emanuel points at me. Looking between us, then he seems to settle a little. “Don’t worry, Colonel Waters. It should wear off in about a day.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry,” Adam snaps back at him. “She’s pregnant. That medication made the women in our District deliver early, all of the infants died.”

For a moment I think to correct Adam. Not all of the infants died. Ian’s baby survived. But I don’t feel much like doing anything. I guess I really have no desire right now. I let the thought pass and continue to stand there, basking in this wonderful relaxed feeling, waiting for someone to tell me what to do.

I stand complacently at Adam’s side and listen as he barks out orders. “Alexander, get their train fixed. Ramirez, take the other Sovereign and get the Residents to start cleaning up some of the debris from the storm.” I feel his warm hand wrap around my wrist. “Come with me, Andie.” I follow him obediently as he walks back to Headquarters, leading me to the committee room. He tells one of our Volker to get food and water from the train and tells Emanuel to fetch the District Doctor.

“We don’t have a doctor anymore,” Emanuel replies. “He died eight months ago, contracted Malaria. It’s been a bad mosquito season.” I watch Emanuel as he shrugs. “We only have a small staff of nurses and a few nurse practitioners left.”

“Forget it then. They can’t help.” Adam paces the room in front of me. His boots make heavy thuds on the linoleum floor. “How do you know it will wear off in a day?”

“We had a Sovereign eat the medicated rations before. It was actually quite comical, he did everything we told him, and in the morning he remembered nothing. I think that’s why they make us titrate the doses down, so the Residents will remember something.”

Adam stops in front of me. “Sit down, Andie.”

I sit in the chair behind me, folding my hands in my lap.

“How does the medication affect pregnant women?” he asks me.

“It’s the hormones,” I reply. “They send the body into premature labor.”

“Is there a way to stop it?” he asks.

“Stop the medication,” I answer.

Adam crouches down in front of me. “What happens if a pregnant woman receives one dose?”

“I’m not sure. All the ones in Phoenix had received multiple doses.”

He lets out a sigh of exasperation, rubbing his hands over his face. The door opens and our Volker enters carrying a plate of food and bottle of water. Adam takes it from him, setting them in my lap. “Eat this, Andie.” I look down at the plate containing two apples and half a loaf of bread and start eating, just as he told me.

“What are you going to do?” Emanuel asks.

“I have to call Crane.” He walks to the laptop. After a few moments I hear the same choppy tone as before.

“Colonel Waters, how can I help you?” I hear Crane’s voice.

“Someone gave Andie food laced with the Resident’s medication,” Adam tells him, evading all pleasantries.

“Ah, well, she should work quite efficiently today then, without her conscience and poor attitude getting in the way.” I think I might hear him chuckle a little.

“What can I do to get it out of her system?” I watch him lean into the computer, his hands curled into fists on each side of the table.

“Nothing,” Crane replies.

“She’s pregnant,” Adam argues. “She can’t deliver down here, neither of them will survive.”

“Andromeda will be fine. Let the medication wear off.”

“And the baby?” Adam stands, crossing his arms over his chest.

I think about telling him to get some of the manatee meat, it might help calm him down. I let the urge pass, biting off another chunk of the bread.

“Let me ask you this, Colonel Waters, why are you so worried about her baby?” Crane asks.

Adam hesitates, “…because it’s mine.”

“Well now, Colonel Waters,” Crane replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Of all the people, you’re the last I would expect to put yourself in such a predicament. I suggest you remember what your job is and who you work for.”

I’m not sure if the conversation continues. I can’t hear much over the sound of biting into the crisp apples that were brought to me. I sit in my seat, sipping at the bottle of water, watching the men deep in conversation at the table in front of me. Time seems to languish, but I am happy to sit in my seat. I have no desire to get up and leave, or involve myself in their conversations. People leave the room. Adam brings me more food, two of the Guardians lay down on the floor, one on each side of me. I start to think that these men talk far too much.

“Andie, come with me, it’s time for bed,” Adam tells me.

I realize that we are alone in the room. And I am suddenly feeling overtired. I stand and follow Adam out of the room, obediently. My legs prickle from sitting for so long. I follow him down the long hallway, out of Headquarters, and to the train platform. I barely notice the diamond filled night sky that floats above us.

“What do you sleep in?” Adam asks picking through my luggage, a flashlight pinched between his ear and shoulder, shining into the bag.

“There’s a long t-shirt in there,” I respond from the bed, where he told me to sit. “I think.”

“I can’t find it.”

I hear him rustling through another bag, not mine. Then he is kneeling in front of me, setting the light on the bed. Casting a bright glow on the wall and leaving the rest of the sleeping bunk in dark shadows.

He reaches for my foot. “Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he tells me, pulling my sandals off, reaching for the button to my slacks. He tells me to stand up and I do, watching him pull the pants down over my hips, leaving me in my top and underwear. Usually I have no problem dressing myself, but I just continue doing what he tells me. He stands, reaching for the hemline of my blouse, pulling it off over my head. A moment later he pulls a dark shirt over my head, taking my hands and pushing them through the armholes. The material is soft and it smells wonderful, it smells just like Adam. I look down at the black shirt as it falls to my knees.

“It’s one of my shirts,” he tells me.

“I like it.” I run my hand over the worn fabric. “Can I keep it?”

“Sure,” he laughs a little, looking around the train car, his mood shifting. “Sit down, Andie. I have to ask you a few things.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting passively for his questions.

“How long have you known about the other Districts?” he asks.

I answer without hesitation, “Since Crane had me analyze the first set of data, over a year ago.”

“How did you find them from the data?”

“There were extra samples, the people looked like they were from different places.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain what I see when I look at their genetic data. I see what they look like.”

“And you told no one?”

“No.”

He moves on to what I saw the day of the bombings, if I asked about him when I was relocated to the Pasture, if I told anyone about our relationship. I tell him what I saw, that I didn’t ask anyone about him, that I never told a single soul about us. Then he turns to questions about Ian. How long we were married for, what did Ian do at the nuclear power plant and why I didn’t argue to save Ian.

“Crane didn’t give me a choice,” I tell him. “I had to protect my child.”

“Do you love Ian?” he asks.

“I’ve always loved Ian. He was my first, my first everything. He’s Lina’s father.”

Adam stands, pacing the narrow walkway between the bunks. “Who is the father of your baby?”

“You are, Adam.” I smile at him. The question seems strange to me, he knows who the father is.

“Do you want me to tell the others about us?”

It takes me a moment to answer this question. It isn’t as simple as the others. There’s something I need to remember, something I’ve been ordered to do. “You can’t,” I tell him. “I’ve been ordered to choose my own pair before the baby comes, before I become a Funding Entity. They offered to give me Ian back.”

Adam stops in his tracks, his features soften. “What did you tell them?”

“Nothing,” I reply.

“Who have you chosen, Andie?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He kneels in front of me again, his voice changed, now thick with emotion. “Do you love me?”

This question confuses me, and I’m not sure how to answer, because I’m not sure if I can love two men, if it’s right to love two men at the same time. I like Adam, I like him a lot, the way he smells, the way I feel when he touches me, and I feel safe when he’s around. But is that enough to constitute love?

“Do you love me?” Adam repeats himself, the soldier tone returning to his voice, demanding me to answer.

“I’m not sure. I’m confused,” I tell him. “There are so many things. I think I might, I think I could…” I search for the right words in my foggy mind.

He pulls my hands to his chest and I can feel the thumping of his heart under his bare skin. “Do you trust me?”

Finally, an easy question. “Yes,” I tell him.

Of course I trust him, every word he says, every motion he makes. Right now I trust him more than I trust myself. Still, there’s something blinking in the back of my brain, a warning maybe, a memory. I ignore it, pushing it into the darkest sections of my brain, it can’t possibly be more important that what Adam is asking me right now. It can’t possibly be more important than his hands on my distended abdomen and whatever he is searching my eyes for.

CHAPTER twenty

I wake to the motions of the train moving. I look down to see that I’m wearing nothing but a black t-shirt, which smells just like Adam. And when I look out the window, I see the tan blur of what I can only assume is the desert. I get the sense that something happened, that I’m forgetting something. I just can’t place it.

Adam enters the sleeping car just as I try to stand up, my wobbly legs threatening to collapse underneath me. I grab the support beam for the bunk. Adam rushes towards me. “Sit down,” he says in a stern voice.

“Since when did you start ordering me around?” I ask him.

He stops, seemingly shocked at my response. “I just didn’t want you to fall.”

“Why are we moving? What happened?” I ask him.

“We are headed to the District in Arizona, the Tonopah District.”

“What happened to Crystal River? All I can remember was we were in a meeting and then, I’m not sure what happened…” I look around the car, and down at my bare legs, hoping something might trigger a memory.

“We had to leave Crystal River. We can consult with them later. It wasn’t safe for you there,” Adam tells me.

“But they’re not secure, that District is in shambles.” I look around the small room for my bag. I locate it in the corner of the room. It’s open, the clothes spilling out.

“Alexander and I put some things into place. It’s better now,” Adam tells me, searching my face. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Last I remember it was Tuesday, so Wednesday?” I ask as I make my ways towards my bag to find some clothes.

I catch him shaking his head. “Thursday,” he says.

“What happened?”

“You ate food with the Residents’ medication.”

“Oh God,” I put both my hands on my stomach, feeling the smooth motion of the baby moving inside me. I sigh in relief. I escaped the side effects of the medication, at least for now. “How much of it did I eat?”

“I’m guessing about half a manatee steak.”

I press my fingers to my lips, repulsed. “I ate manatee? They are an endangered species.”

“Not in Crystal River,” he tells me.

“I don’t remember any of it. I don’t remember eating, nothing. I shouldn’t have lost so much time. Two days. Did you talk to Morris? What’s happening at home?” I grab onto his arm to steady myself. “Is Lina okay?”

“Well, Dr. Akiyama thinks you got too large of a dose for your size. And Morris says Lina and Sam are fine, he’s keeping an eye on them.”

“What did I do for two days? I don’t remember anything.”

Adam crouches in front of me. I suspect he’s using his method of determining if I’m lying. “You don’t remember anything?” he asks.

I shake my head no.

“You mostly slept and ate.”

“You took care of me?” I ask, reaching out to touch his dark hair.

“Yeah.” He smiles.

“What else did I do?”

“Nothing.” He brushes my hair off my forehead, and moves closer to me, much too close for me to think clearly. “Could you just promise me one thing, for the rest of this trip?”

“Sure,” I reply, tipping my head as he trails his fingers down my cheek and neck.

“Don’t eat anything that doesn’t come off this train.”

--

The train ride to Arizona is much different from the ride to Florida. For one thing, it’s taking much longer. The other thing is, the tracks are barely hidden. There’s a complete lack of forest cover over the second leg of the trip. Instead, there’s a sprawling, flat landscape, thick with shrubbery and littered with rocky formations.

The humid atmosphere of Florida has been replaced with an arid heat, the humidity burned from the air. Water formations are few and far between. A few times we’ve seen shallow lakes with clusters of tents and rough shacks surrounding them.

“Survivors,” each of us mutters under our breath as we crane are necks to watch in passing.

From so far away we couldn’t tell if anyone noticed the train. Being fast and silent, we hoped that we passed by unnoticed. Not because we didn’t want to find Survivors, we just aren’t stocked to defend ourselves against them. The remainder of the ride possesses an eerie silence. This is the first time we’ve seen evidence of people living outside the Districts. One of the Volker has already mentioned the dense population of Phoenix, Arizona and how he had hoped it was blasted to smithereens so we don’t have to defend ourselves. Alexander tells us that the tracks follow a wide path away from the city, but Tonopah is a mere 50 miles from it. As we get closer the Guardians raise themselves off the floor, wandering the train car, pressing their noses to the windows. They sense something.

At night we can see a few fires burning off in the distance. Nothing is close enough to the tracks to make us concerned. Still, that doesn’t help any of us sleep at night. Not that we could with the pacing footsteps of the Guardians all night long.

By morning our greatest fear is realized. We pass a group of men on horseback, riding parallel to the tracks. The horses can’t keep up with a train travelling at 150 miles per hour, but that doesn’t stop the men from trying. We watch as the horses kick up a cloud of dust behind us, running as fast as they can.

I turn to Adam. “I hope this District is secure. I get the sense the Survivors might know about it.”

“Tonopah has greater defenses than we do in Phoenix,” Alexander speaks up. “We should be fine.”

Adam slows the train to a crawl as we see an upcoming chain-link fence. It opens just as we reach the entrance. Instantly our hands fly to cover our ears in response to the high pitch humming sound. This fence is different than the ones we’ve seen before. Instead of reaching out around the District, it follows the tracks in a narrow corridor of protection. One can see this precaution has been taken for good reason. Tents have been pitched in the nearby sand, tattered cloth and singed body parts hang off the fencing. As our train passes, clusters of people start to form a line at the fence, most keeping a safe distance. An unlucky few wander too close, and trickles of blood start to drain from their noses and ears. They back up, brushing the blood off their faces, resuming a safer distance from the fence.

This tells me one thing, the Survivors definitely know about this District, and it looks like they want in.

“Must be stronger than ours,” one of the Volker points out, his face twisted in pain from the high pitch ringing.

“Much stronger.” I turn my attention to Alexander as he speaks. “This District is about five times the size of ours, in population and acreage. For that reason, the greatest energy producing nuclear reactors were chosen. I suggest you take every precaution to maintain a safe distance from the fence.”

I resume looking out the window at the Survivors watching with hope at what could be inside. I take in the tattered clothes, the dirty faces, the bones that jut from the skin of the Survivors standing at the fence. I wonder if this is how we could be living if we hadn’t been chosen for the District. We could resemble these Survivors, if we even lived this long.

A few miles later the corridor of fencing splits to the sides for what I assume is hundreds of miles, enclosing the Tonopah District. Finally, the loud humming dissipates and we all let our hands drop from our ears. I watch as the Survivors give up on the possibility that we might stop, returning to their tents, escaping the desert heat.

A large cement wall comes into view, much like ours, and a narrow passage allows the train to pass before another gate rolls over the tracks, enclosing the District further. The change in scenery is drastic. Rows of crops replace the sandy desert, complete with a sophisticated irrigation system. There are perfectly spaced rows of fruiting trees, rows of corn, and far off in the distance rows of small adobe houses.

As we near the train platform the number of Volker present outnumber us by at least double. They crowd around the door of the engine car as Adam brings the train to a stop. I notice they carry large rifles, in addition to the pistols carried by our Volker. Not only does this District seem well secured, they are well armed.

“Do you think it’s safe?” I ask Adam.

“Yes, they’re expecting us.”

“We’ll be fine,” Alexander tells us with confidence. When I turn around to look at him, he nods at me. It doesn’t help me feel any better.

Once on the platform, a Volker with tanned skin and slicked black hair, secured in a ponytail, salutes Adam. “Colonel Waters, I’m Colonel Yuma. I’ll be your escort to Headquarters. Welcome to the Tonopah District.”

He tells us to leave the Guardians in the train. We follow him to waiting vehicles.

There is one main road in Tonopah. One long, dry pebbled road. On each side there are neatly placed mobile homes and what look like newly built houses. Groupings of people wait on the side of the road, all dressed in the same white uniforms and straw hats.

“Residents headed for the fields,” Yuma tells us. “Going to be a hot one today, lucky for them, they only work half shifts.”

Yuma and Adam talk Volker. How many staff they have, the assigned patrols. It’s when Adam asks if they’ve had any crime since the District was secured that Yuma pauses.

“Not within our walls, there’s plenty outside though. Sakima keeps a tight rein on Residents and Sovereign.”

“Who’s Sakima?” I ask. I stare at the image burned into his wrist. I can see portions of it each time he adjusts his hands on the steering wheel, it looks like three large raindrops arranged in a triangle.

Yuma leans back to look at me. “I’d say he’s Tonopah’s version of Crane.”

“How do you know Crane?” I ask.

“Everyone knows Crane, ma’am.”

I find it annoying that everyone knows Crane. Everyone seems to know something that I don’t, whether it is about Crane or about the Districts. Right now I’m wishing I had been more prepared for this trip. Actually, I’m wishing I had never been forced to take part in this trip. I was content living in my little bubble, raising my child where I was safe, where I didn’t have to meet new people and see Survivors from the terror inflicted by the Funding Entities.

He brings us to a building that resembles an old post office. Once inside the space has been cleared, all that remains is a large circular table. A tall man walks towards us, looking much like Yuma. His skin tanned, starting to wrinkle in the corners of his eyes, and his long black hair arranged in a braid down his back, graying at his temples. I come to the conclusion that their genetic makeup here must be mostly Native American, just like I saw in the samples. Despite the hot weather he wears a black suit and a thin necklace of turquoise.

This is Tonopah’s Crane.

He walks straight towards me. And while I’d like to step back and hide behind Adam, I stand my ground.

“You must be Andromeda,” he reaches for my hand, turning it over in his palm. “I am Sakima. Welcome to Tonopah. Please, make yourself at home.” He glances down quickly at our hands, and I can see that he has the Phoenix District on my wrist face up so he can see it.

I watch as he greets Adam and Alexander, using the same manipulation to view their District brand. I take note that he wears the same image on his wrist as Yuma, who is standing at my side. I lean towards him, whispering. “Why three raindrops?” I ask, pointing at his wrist.

“Tonopah sits on the largest subterranean aquifer for thousands of miles,” Yuma answers.

Now it makes sense. Why choose the desert to be the largest District? When it contains the most powerful nuclear reactors and the largest water resource, it’s the perfect location. The only downside is it’s close to one of the largest cities in the U.S. Well, it was one of the largest cities.

Sakima brings us to the large table and just like in Crystal River he hands us copies of the Tonopah District Manifesto. He delves into a long speech about how the District was formed, how fast they got the fence up, the population under control, the crops started. I start to wonder why we are here. From all points it looks like this District is under control, the complete opposite of Crystal River.

Sakima excuses himself for a moment, picking up a phone at the far end of the table.

“Why are we here?” I ask Adam who is sitting at my side. “If this place is so perfectly organized, what are we doing here?”

“Not everything that sounds perfect and looks perfect is without flaws. I’m sure we’ll find out soon.”

I see Alexander watching me from the opposite side of Adam. He nods his head in agreement.

“Well, you’ve all traveled so far, let us provide a short meal to you before we continue.”

Sakima waves at the door and workers enter carrying trays of food. There is fruit salad, freshly baked corn bread with the steam still rising off it, rice with beans, and a variety of other local themed dishes. It all smells absolutely wonderful and my mouth waters at the trays which have been placed in front of us. I remember what Adam said, about not eating anything that wasn’t from our train. I watch as our Volker and Alexander fill their plates with food. I give Adam an uneasy glance as my stomach grumbles at the decadent aromas filling the room.

Sakima encourages everyone in the room to take a plate, but I can’t help but remember how I lost two days of my life from eating unfamiliar food. I reach for a tall glass of water that has slices of lemon and lime in it. I watch Adam reach for a plate.

“Will we meet your other Sovereign?” I ask Sakima, trying to take my focus off the food.

“We shall see, they are busy today. Everyone in Tonopah has a job to do, or else it would not run so smoothly.” He smiles at me.

I decide not to wait for him to tell us why we are there. “Excuse me for pushing things a bit, but why exactly are we here? It seems as though you have everything under control.” I sip at the cold glass of water in my hand.

“Well, we have no children here. No Sovereign Children’s Training Program. No future Sovereign to prepare. Crane thought you could help us with that. I see the Phoenix District has overcome this hurdle, since you are with child yourself.”

I find it odd that this place has been running since shortly after Phoenix was taken over. And while our population is slowly rebuilding, they have nothing here. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the smells in the room, trying to clear my mind. The sounds of Alexander and the Volker eating are distracting. So is watching Adam push food around on his plate.

“So you need me to set up your genetic pairing program?” I ask.

“No, Crane has sent us your work, your pairings, as you call them.” He glances at my stomach. “Please, eat something. You’ve traveled so far and we still have so much to do.”

This is not making sense to me. Crane sent us to unite the Districts. He said there were uprisings and that I had to repeat my speech. But Sakima has spoken nothing of uprisings. Of course Crystal River was not what we expected either. I’m guessing Crane will have some enjoyment hearing of us trying to decipher our purpose here. It’s the thought of uprisings which makes me think of the medication.

“When did you begin your titrations?” I ask Sakima.

He chokes out a small laugh. “There have not been titrations here.”

“Why not?”

“Things would not run so smoothly without the medication. Everyone gets the medication, a full dose.”

“And your Sovereign, the Volker?”

“They get a very small dose, just enough so they know who is in control.”

“And who is in control here?”

“I am, of course.” Sakima smiles at me again, adjusting his tie, clearing his throat. Now I know why Yuma leaned back to look at me when he told me Sakima was Tonopah’s version of Crane. He was trying to relay that Sakima possesses the same sociopathic tendencies as Crane.

“Then you will never have children to train,” I tell him. “I’m sure Crane has told you that the medication and pregnancy do not mix.”

“Yes.”

“Then how have you populated this District?”

“Well, Andromeda, that is actually very easy. Did you see all those desperate people outside our walls? They are more than willing to have food in their stomachs and a bed to sleep in. They don’t much care if it involves eating food laced with mind numbing medication. Of all the survivors we’ve brought in I’ve never had a single complaint.”

I look to Adam to make sure he’s getting this. He takes a bite of the cornbread and I notice his plate is half empty. He’s been eating the whole time we’ve been talking. Instantly I realize why Sakima wants us to eat. What better way to get us strangers to cooperate? The food has to be laced with the Resident’s medication.

I pull the plate from Adam’s hand. “Spit it out, Adam.”

Adam opens his mouth, pushing out the cornbread and chewed bits of food. It’s too late for Alexander and our Volker. They’re scraping their plates before I have time to say anything to them.

I would expect that the news of Sakima trying to feed us the medicated food would send Adam into one of his irate moods. I would expect to see his jaw tightly clenched. I would expect to see him confront Sakima and escort me out of here. But none of that happens. Which can only mean one thing: Adam ingested enough of the medication for it to affect him.

Sakima truly is another version of Crane. And I’m beginning to realize that maybe this trip wasn’t to place a target on my back, but a target on the child growing inside me.

Before, I could count on Adam protecting me, or Alexander placidly talking us out of this situation, or our Volker using force, none of that will happen today. Now it is just the self-appointed grand ruler of Tonopah and me.

“Give me your gun, Adam.” I hold my hand out as Adam removes his Volker issued pistol from the holster at his hip, placing it in my open palm.

“Now, now, Andromeda, that’s not necessary. You are my guests. No harm will come to you here.” His voice rises and falls as he tries to convince me of our safety.

“I find that hard to believe,” I reply, trying to hide the disdain in my voice as I glare into his liquid black eyes.

“Crane did warn me that you were quite the spitfire. I’m not sure why he runs the Phoenix District with such lackadaisical regulations when it comes to the Sovereign. It will not be tolerated here.” He raises his hand to Adam. “Colonel Waters, take the pistol from Andromeda.”

Adam moves faster than I had anticipated. Before I have a chance to take two steps away from him he has the pistol back in his holster and my arm twisted behind my back. In all the training sessions we’ve had, where he’s taught me to fight, I’ve never seen him move so quickly. And with those few swift movements I recognize what I’ve always suspected to be true. He’s always held himself back from me, from letting me know what he’s truly capable of.

I try to pull away from him, my struggles only making him tighten his grasp around my wrist, pulling my arm up. The pain in my shoulder tells me he’s threatening to pop my shoulder out of the socket.

“Perhaps, you should settle down,” Sakima tells me, the smile still playing on his thin lips. “We don’t want you to harm yourself, or your child.”

I resign at the fact that he has control over the current situation. To get myself out of here I need to solve his problem. “What do you need done here?” I ask.

“First, I need you to watch.” He motions to Adam who is standing behind my back. “Come, Colonel Waters, bring Andromeda with us.”

Sakima drives. I study Adam from the back seat of Sakima’s vehicle. But he doesn’t look back. He stares straight ahead, waiting for his next set of orders. I look down at my throbbing wrist, the one that Adam had twisted behind my back. The lines of his hand slowly appearing across my skin in the form of a deep purple bruise.

When I see the large cement wall come into view my heart starts beating fast in my chest. I have no desire to go near the Tonopah District gates. For a moment I fear Sakima might throw me out. Maybe that was Crane’s plan all along. Deposit my body in the desert, since Baillie did such a poor job throwing me in the river. I don’t want to be one of those Survivors standing outside, desperate to get in.

When Sakima stops the vehicle, Adam gets out and opens my door. He waits expectantly. I look up at him. His expression is cold, he’s tense, and it’s utterly terrifying seeing him like this. I fear for whoever has to experience him as a prisoner.

We enter a heavily guarded building. It’s made of painted white cement blocks, reflecting the desert heat. As the Volker open the door for us, there is a cool breeze from inside the building. Even though the temperature has dropped at least twenty degrees, it doesn’t help hide the fact that I’m sweating nervously.

The Volker are heavily armed, carrying guns, grenades, and long sticks that look like an extended baton. We enter a room with ten people seated at a long table, facing out a large window. Outside I can see more guards and a row of people, Survivors, each holding a numbered card in front of them.

“What is this place?” I ask.

As the words escape my lips the ten seated people turn and stare at us. Their eyes are cold, slightly dull. They examine me up and down, each glancing at my wrist, at my District branding.

“Let me introduce you to the Tonopah District Sovereign,” Sakima tells me. He turns his attention to the table of people. “Continue with your work,” he instructs them.

I watch as one of the Sovereign men seated in the middle of the long table leans forward into a microphone. “Number four and number seven,” he says.

The Survivors holding the cards step forward and two of the heavily armed Volker lead them away from the group. Now, more Volker step forward, their batons pointing at the remaining Survivors, the bright line of electricity visible at the tip of each baton. The Survivors back up, walking towards a small opening in the electrified fencing. They walk through the opening, heads hanging in defeat, except for the last one. The last Survivor tries running back towards us, pushing at the Volker, reaching for their weapons. He’s quickly subdued by the shock of five batons and a gun pointed at his head. The Volker grab under his arms, tossing him back outside the gates.

Another ten Survivors are allowed in. They walk to the window, each picking up the discarded cards from the dusty ground. They wait as the ten Sovereign inspect them and their sunken eyes, tattered clothes, the silent pleas being whispered off their lips.

The middle Sovereign, a man, leans towards the microphone again. “Number one, state your name and previous occupation.”

A tall woman steps forward, wearing something that looks like it used to be a suit. Now the pants are stained various shades of brown, tattered on the end, hanging off her slim hips. “Liz Miller, I was a math teacher,” she answers, her voice shaky.

This continues as each Survivor steps forward, men and women alike. Some were mechanics, or housewives, most were unemployed from the poor economic status of the U.S. before the bombings. Number ten admits he manufactured methamphetamines in his basement and sold them. If he was hoping his honesty might get him inside, he was wrong. The Volker immediately remove him from the line-up, allowing a new Survivor to step forward and hope for acceptance.

With each name revealed I watch the Sovereign type it into a small computer. Sakima notices my observation. “This is how we find the chosen ones, the Sovereign suggested on the Funding Entities’ list,” he tells me.

“How many of them have you found?” I ask, curious.

“A few dozen.” He shrugs as though it is no big deal. “They have been assigned duties throughout the District. But the teachers, we aren’t sure what to do with the teachers, since there are no children yet.”

“Number two, number four,” the Sovereign man says into the microphone.

The woman named Liz falls to her knees, screaming, begging, the tears leaving strips of cleansed skin down the sides of her face, all in a last ditch effort to be chosen. It doesn’t work, the Volker drag her out to the gate and allow another group of Survivors in.

“I think I’ve seen enough of this,” I tell Sakima.

The whole display makes me sick. When Crane told me we would allow Survivors in, the ones that found our fence, I never suspected it could be like this. I guess I never thought much about it considering how hidden we are. But now, after seeing this example of choosing Survivors to live within the District walls, I’m thoroughly disgusted.

“Would you like to see our processing facility?” he asks as we walk out of the building. “It’s quite impressive. The chosen get cleaned, provided with clothing, tested, assigned duties and living quarters. They get their first meal also. It’s very interesting to watch. The transformation these people go through, the look in their eyes when they are handed a plate of warm food, and how the food changes them, returns them to civility.”

“That sounds really great,” I tell Sakima. “But I think I’ll pass.” I stop, staring at the busload of dirty faces as it passes us.

“Are you sure?” he pressures me. “We could follow that busload right now.”

I hear the shifting of feet behind me. When I turn I see Adam, he’s been so quiet this entire time that I almost forgot he was here. I look back, towards the bus as it pulls away. Some of the Survivors smile.

“I’m sure,” I tell Sakima. “I don’t want to see it.”

The bus kicks up a dust cloud as it pulls out of the parking lot. The sun beats down on us, warming me. It’s so hot it’s almost hard to breathe, but I take comfort in the warmth. The warmth helps me think. I watch the bus drive away from us, the sun glinting off of its windows. I realize something. I realize that Sakima has discovered the cog in the machine when it comes to the medication the Funding Entities have developed and dispensed at will. Whereas our Residents struggled with trusting Crane, Sakima has found that the medication-combined with the Survivors’ strong desire to live at all costs- makes them trust anyone.

And now Sakima, no, the Entities want me to solve this problem. I can feel it, the idea forming in my mind. And as Sakima drives back to Headquarters I’m able to form a solution to their problem here. And it’s a truly terrible idea, violating every moral fiber in my body.

Do you want to leave, or do you want to try and save these people? I ask myself. Staying here will only delay my ability to return home. It only keeps us in danger. It only keeps me away from Lina and Sam.

“So, do you have any suggestions to solve our child dilemma?” Sakima asks as we enter Headquarters. I notice Alexander and our Volker eating more of the medicated food. Right now they are worthless to me. They won’t help me, they can’t help me.

“You never plan on titrating the medication out of their systems?” I ask Sakima.

“It will never happen here,” he tells me with conviction.

“Of all that has been told to me, all of the ideas and guidelines set forth by the Funding Entities, this violates much of them,” I tell him.

He smiles. It’s an eerie smile. “This is your lesson from my District, Andromeda. A lesson you need to learn before you take your place as an Entity. The guidelines set forth to develop these Districts may be altered as we see fit. Failure of a District is not an option. And I am not about to risk my life, for the life of a few thousand sickly Survivors.”

I take a deep breath and steady myself before I give Sakima his solution, a truly terrible solution. “Well then,” I tell him. “Here is my suggestion to your District. You breed the Survivors before they are allowed in.”

“How do you suggest we do that?” He asks inquisitively.

Hearing myself say the words makes this idea seem so much worse. “You have more than enough food to feed some of them. Create a lottery, provide them rations, clothes, a shower, whatever. You breed them while they are outside the gates, then you let in the women and you let in the infants. Or you let in just the infants. You take their children. However, genetic pairing will not work in this situation, unless you can get the Survivors to cooperate without the medication. So you will have to work with whatever is brought to you, whatever those Survivors create amongst themselves will populate your District.”

If I have ever thought it could be hard to be a horrible person, I’ve just proven myself wrong. It was much too easy for me to come up with a solution. Much too easy for me to think of a way to exploit the Survivors to better this District and myself. I have reached the point in my life where I have the ability to be extremely disappointed in myself.

Sakima claps his hands together, much like I’ve seen Crane do. “Brilliant! Now, this is something I can work with. Crane was right to send you here.”

“So we are done then?” I ask him. “I want to leave, immediately.”

“Yes, Yes. Now I see why Crane chose you and why he found it so hard to let you leave his grasp. Even if it is for a single week. You may leave soon enough. There is one more thing.” He starts walking towards a closed door at the back of the room.

I stand my ground, afraid to move, afraid of whatever he needs to show me that is behind that door. “Come now, Andromeda, or I will have to employ the suggestive forces of Colonel Waters.”

Adam stands at my side. Just as he has the entire day. There is no indication that he is back to normal. He will still do whatever Sakima tells him.

I walk quickly, following Sakima. Not because I’m afraid of Adam, because I don’t want him to find any extra bruises on me when he comes out of this. There’s no way I can hide where they came from.

I have a small sense of relief when Sakima opens the door. It’s nothing but an office, much like mine, except larger. There is a laptop and phone, which no doubt may connect me back to Phoenix. I’m sure he will be filling in the other Entities as soon as we leave. Still, I want to pick up the receiver and call home. I want to hear Lina’s voice, Sam’s voice. It’s been too long already.

Sakima waits for me to enter the room, followed by Adam.

“This would have been much easier had you eaten something,” he says, closing the door behind us.

“I don’t understand why you are trying to medicate me, there was no need. You risk my life, my child’s life,” I tell him.

“Let me tell you a little secret, Andromeda.” Sakima leans close to my face. I can see the pores on his face, a faint mole near his left eye. “This tour you are on, has nothing to do with us. You may give us some suggestions, but it is a continuation of your training.”

I step back in disbelief. “I’m not in a training program. I’m only responsible for the pairings. I was sent to repeat my speech, to unite the Districts. That is what Crane told me.”

“Do you pay attention to the things Crane tells you? Do you notice they usually hold an alternate meaning?” he pauses, giving me time to think. “Have you ever sat back and thought about what has happened to you, Andromeda? You’ve had to face the task of abandoning people in need to save your family. You’ve had to escape a city enraged with terror and crime to find your family. You did this with minimal assistance, without weapons, without combat training. You’ve fought to save your daughter, you’ve given Crane the ability to tweak the genetic code and create another breed of human, which is something he’s been working on for a long, long time. You’ve attempted escape and survived the punishment. You’ve recovered at the Pasture. We all know what’s been happening to you. We’ve been watching the whole time. You’ve managed to pass each test, each hurdle we’ve thrown at you, finding a way to survive, overcome it all while nurturing a very gifted child and now a fetus who will no doubt follow in your footsteps. Most would have given up by now. Don’t underestimate yourself, your worth, or what Crane asks of you. Because you have been being trained since the beginning.”

“You know nothing about me,” I tell him calmly, trying to control the anger that’s been bubbling up inside me during his speech.

“I know plenty. I also know that before you move up in the ranks, before you move on with your training, you have a task to complete in each District. And that task will come with a lesson, a lesson that is necessary for anyone who has been chosen as an Entity.”

“Why do you people feel the need to teach me so many lessons? I didn’t choose this. I was never even asked.”

“You are being primed.”

“Primed for what?”

“Perhaps I should give you a moment to figure it out. I’m sure it won’t take you long.” I watch as he picks up a small metal object from the table.  “And neither will this.” It looks just like the instruments from tattooing day. Square and smooth. “Colonel Waters, I need her right shoulder.” Sakima orders Adam.

Adam moves quickly, twisting my arm behind my back, just like he did earlier. He unbuttons the back of my blouse with his free hand, just far enough to push the fabric off my shoulder. Sakima walks towards me, the tattooing instrument in his hand and a stick of what I hope is the numbing agent in the other. He rubs the numbing cream on my exposed shoulder, allowing just a few moments for it to take effect.

“With each lesson you learn,” Sakima continues. “You will earn the brand of that District. So you will never forget the decisions you have made. So you will never forget that being a leader of men takes sacrifice, sacrifice in many forms.”

“This didn’t happen in Crystal River.”

“Crystal River was an exception, it will be revisited, in time.”

He presses the instrument to my skin and soon the air is filled with the stench of burning flesh. I twist my head and watch as the symbol of the Tonopah District slowly burns into my skin. Three drops of water arranged in a triangle.

When he is done he leans towards me, whispering in my ear, “Do not be angry with Colonel Waters, he was not himself today. I have every confidence that tomorrow he will be back to normal. You may go. Enjoy the rest of your trip. I hear Washington is beautiful this time of the year.”

CHAPTER twenty-one

Colonel Yuma returns us to our train. The Guardians press their noses to the windows and push by me as I open the door. They growl and hiss at Yuma, herding my drugged companions into the engine car.

“Goodbye, Andromeda,” Yuma tells me as I reach for the door. “Perhaps we will see you sometime soon?” He even smiles. He’s oblivious.

“No, Yuma, I don’t plan on ever stepping foot in the Tonopah District again-not for the rest of my life.”

I close the door, lock it and instruct our Volker to shoot anything that walks through it. I tell Alexander to go to his sleeping bunk and I give our Volker instructions to keep the train secure. Since I don’t have the code to run the train, we can’t leave tonight. I will have to wait for Adam to sleep off the medication before we can leave.

I watch Adam as he lies in my narrow bunk. The realization comes to me that I could ask him anything right now. And he would answer me without hesitation, truthfully. There are a few questions that I can bring to mind. But I’m not sure if I could live with myself afterwards. After all, we promised to trust each other. Besides, he would never take advantage of me in this situation. He had the chance in Crystal River.

I change into the black t-shirt that he gave me and lay on the bed next to him. “Put your arm around me, Adam,” I tell him.

I wait for a moment to lay my head on his shoulder as he stretches his arm out, wrapping it around me. His heartbeat is the same, so is his smell and the heat that radiates off his body. It’s all the same, comforting. I lift my arm, staring at the purple imprint of Adam’s hand across my wrist. “Go to sleep, Adam. In the morning, we are leaving this godforsaken place.”

After this insightful day I can’t wait to escape the walls of the Tonopah District. I hope to never return. Nothing good will come of this place, only depraved people with little humanity left in them.

--

The route to Washington State takes over two days. It’s more than enough time to fill my travel companions in on what happened. Still, we’ve been gone for almost a week already, and with three stops left I find it hard to believe we’ll make it home on time as Crane promised.

I scold Alexander for not filling me in on the true meaning of this tour. Then I drill him on the Hanford District. Alexander is uncomfortable for much of the trip. There’s no place for him to hide from me, besides pulling the thin door closed in his sleeping bunk. He has always been so passive, so quiet, always weighing his words and decisions. When I think about him, I find that he is much like I used to be; quiet, reserved. He’s much like I still am, when I’m not being pushed by the founding fathers of the Districts.

Adam doesn’t take well to the news of what happened. I woke to find him inspecting the bruise on my wrist. As he held my hand up in the morning light, it only took him a moment to realize that the bruise across my wrist matched his hand perfectly. I didn’t show him my new brand from the Tonopah District. I didn’t have time. He pulled away from me, mumbling that he was sorry, that he had a headache, and then he hid at the helm of the engine car for the rest of the day.

I could tell that he was angry, from his clenched jaw to his rigid posture. It didn’t help me deal with what we just went through, what I had learned from Sakima, what they had decided for me.

That night he took the first shift navigating. I had been awake the whole night, staring out the window at the passing landscape, afraid to sleep, afraid what would show up in my dreams. I was surprised when he slid into the narrow bunk during the early hours of the morning when it was still dark enough to be considered night. He pressed his body close to mine. His hands roamed over me, merely hovering, sometimes kneading my shoulders and back. He whispered things in my ear, long strings of apologies, promises, lulling me to sleep. I still had so much to tell him, so much that he had missed.

--

The Hanford District happens to be an old nuclear site, originally a small town condemned by the Federal Government for a failed nuclear power plant. Leaving behind millions of cubic feet of radioactive waste, it gave the government the perfect guise for what was built on the property. The electrified fence has been in place here for decades. And when they removed the contaminated soil during the cleanup they dug down deep, building levels upon levels of underground facilities and moving the nuclear reactors underground. The cleanup gave them the perfect excuse to build even more facilities above ground, all in the name of research.

The government funded research brought hundreds of scientists and engineers to the area. And they brought their families, more scientists, children who became scientists, medical personnel, doctors. The area was flooded with the intellectually elite. They studied radiation, medical radiation, manufactured weapons of mass destruction. You name it and they did it in Hanford.

I expect there will be many Sovereign here.

When I think I’ve learned enough about the Hanford District to not be surprised, I am finally able to relax. Alexander won’t tell me about the problem with this District. He tells me that the Entities need to be able to judge my reactions, reactions without preparation. I feel bad for yelling at him, since he is usually such a genuinely nice person. But I’m still angry that he didn’t fill me in on all the details.

A sign comes into view as the train slows, entering the Hanford District. It’s pale, rusted, blue and white, stating this is a Restricted Government Area, property of the United States Department of Energy. Whatever was written on the bottom half of the sign has rubbed off from years of exposure to the elements. We are all thankful to see there are no Survivors camped outside this fence begging to get in.

According to Alexander they used to provide tours here. Tours highlighting the abandoned high school and telling the tourists that it was used for SWAT and firefighter training. From the smashed out windows and blackened walls, it looks like it’s abandoned, except for the tracks and freshly built platform next to the aged building. There is one person waiting on the platform for us. One man, dressed in khaki pants and a red button down shirt. The summer breeze blows at his bangs, covering up the thick glasses perched on the end of his nose. He takes the glasses off, cleaning them on his shirt as we prepare to step off the train. There’s not a single Volker within view.

Adam puts on a backpack. It’s filled with food, water and guns. Just in case. We let the Guardians exit first. The man doesn’t seem surprised at all to see the large dogs.

“Hello,” he greets us immediately. “You all must be from Phoenix. I’m George, George Crossbender. We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to the Hanford District.”

Since no one else moves I step forward, holding out my hand to greet him. He smiles, showing a row of crooked teeth. “Ah yes, Andromeda, right?” he gives me a firm handshake.

“Call me Andie. Where are your Volker?” I ask him.

“Well, we don’t use many of them here, they aren’t necessary.”

I continue shaking his hand, turning it just slightly, so I can see the District brand on his wrist, the same way Sakima did to each of us when we arrived in Tonopah. Their brand has a dark circular center, and thin elliptical lines surrounding it. I have to stare for a moment before I realize I’m looking at the image of an atom, complete with tiny electrons and their orbits.

“Ah yes, the brand.” George has noticed me inspecting his wrist. “The atom. Fundamental to all living organisms, but you know that already.” I release his hand and step away so he can greet the others.

George reminds me of the few guys I used to hang out with in high school and college. The sweet super geeky ones who were great to talk to and willing to help you with anything. I miss those kinds of people. I miss their awkward laughs and quirky ticks. It makes me wonder how he got mixed up with the Funding Entities.

“So, what would you like to see first?” George asks, pushing his glasses into place with his index finger.

For a moment no one says anything. Then Alexander speaks up, “I would like to see the engineering laboratories. Andie might be interested in your genetics lab or the nuclear medicine lab. And I’m sure Colonel Waters would find your experimental artillery lab interesting.”

“I don’t think we should be splitting up,” Adam tells Alexander.

“Forgive me, Colonel Waters, for interjecting, but it is safe here. I can assure you.” George holds his three fingers up in the air. “Boy scouts honor.”

I exchange an uneasy glance with Adam. George seems so innocent, so easy to trust. He’s not like the others. I hope.

“Well, we still have to make it to the lower levels, so decide on the way. Follow me.” George walks down the steps leading off the platform, headed for the desolate high school building.

Alexander walks with George while our Volker and the Guardians disperse themselves between us. George leads us into the abandoned building. There’s broken glass and burned boards strewn about. We walk to the middle of the building, stopping underneath the stairwell which would have been used to climb to the upper levels of the building-if it weren’t in such a dilapidated state. There is a partially burned door. George reaches for the doorknob, pulling it open. Inside there is a small room, it’s freshly painted, well lit, and contains a set of stainless steel elevator doors. This room definitely looks out of place in this building. He pushes the arrow pointed down and in an instant there is a light ding and the elevator doors open.

George steps into the shiny elevator, holding the door open for us. “Everybody on, we can all fit,” he encourages us.

There’s enough space, but barely. I can feel the heat from one of the Guardian’s hot breath on the back of my leg and I’m pushed so close to Adam that I can feel his heartbeat thumping against my shoulder, against my right shoulder, which now bears the Tonopah District image. I hold in a flinch as he moves slightly, my shirt rubbing against the sore skin.

The moment the elevator doors open, which only takes a few seconds, we rush out of the cramped area into a space which I can only describe as looking like the inside of a shopping mall. There are wide open walkways, what look like store fronts, balconies, and bright sunlight. I walk to the edge of the balcony, and standing against the railing, I look up to see a glass ceiling with the slightest cover of tan sand, just enough to block the sun’s harmful rays, yet allowing in most of the natural light. I look down and see the levels extend into the earth for at least another seven floors.

Then the faces start to appear. All of them leaning against the balcony railings, hundreds of them, looking up at us.

“I’m headed to the lab.” Alexander waves at us as he walks away, down one of the long hallways.

I turn to George, surprised at Alexander abandoning us so quickly in this new place. “I’m guessing he never told you he’s been here before?” George tells me.

“No, not ever,” I reply.

“He worked here, before all this started. He has children, grandchildren, other family members living here. He’s probably off to see them. So, have you decided what you would like to see first?”

The laboratory sounds interesting, but after being stuck on the train for so long I just want to stretch my legs and relax. “Actually, I think I would like to see the artillery lab,” I tell them. This way Adam can do all the talking and I can wander behind them and try to figure out what the problem is here.

We follow George down another long hallway. I peer into what I thought were store windows, only to find each space filled with people sitting at desks.

“Classrooms,” George tells me. “This upper level houses the high school classrooms, there are more on the lower levels, many more. You’ll have to excuse the mess. We’re just running out of space down here.”

“There are so many students,” I say. Each room is filled.

“Yes, yes, there are.” George picks up his pace, apparently lost in thought as our conversation dies out.

The hallway seems to extend for forever, and just as I’m about to tell them I need to sit and take a break, we come upon an elevator. George presses the down button and we descend further into the earth. This time, when the doors open, we are at an underground train platform.

“We have to take the subway to the artillery unit,” George tells us.

The train arrives almost immediately, packed with a load of people. They empty out, weaving around us, talking quietly, smiling. Each of us selects a seat in the now cleared subway car. The subway car is immaculate, there’s not a speck of trash and the smooth metal walls are polished and shiny.

“You must have quite the Orderly faction to keep this place so clean?” I ask.

“No, not down here, there are no Residents underground. Up there,” he points to the ceiling, “there are a few, not many. We take it upon ourselves to run this District in its entirety. Everyone picks up after themselves. Everyone has assigned duties, as well as their duties as Sovereign.”

Before I can ask him more questions the subway comes to a stop. We follow George down a short hallway, and as we walk through the door of the glass walled area I try to control my jaw from letting my mouth hang open. It’s absolutely magnificent. The space is huge and cavernous, large enough to fit more than a few jumbo jets. It extends further than I can see. The rocky walls are lined with green vines, and the ceiling is the same as before, thick glass with a thin coating of sand, the bright sunlight that filters through lights most of the space.

We walk down a set of metal stairs, the Volker and Guardians trailing behind us as George talks. “This is the Artillery Research Unit, or the ARU, that’s what we call it. As you can see there’s plenty of space down here. It extends for almost fifteen miles to the South and then there are a few spaces off to the side. This space houses weapons development, aircraft, nuclear warfare research, and armor development.”

The work area is filled with people. Some sit at computers, others stand at tables. I let Adam and George fall into a conversation about bullets and armored vests. I trail behind, stopping at times to watch the workers. Three of them stand around a table. They file down bright metals, measure distances, discuss trajectories. To me it looks like they are working on some type of bullet. I watch their hands, noticing that almost everyone has the Hanford District brand on their wrists.

Through a large window cut into the rock wall I can see there are jets and small planes in the cavern next to us. I haven’t seen an airplane or a helicopter since I abandoned my patients over two years ago and left the hospital to return home. The discovery is slightly comforting, knowing that the Entities have not lost the technologies of aeronautics.

This is how the afternoon progresses, the men talking, me observing, taking in how much they are doing here. It isn’t long before I come to the conclusion that if the Hanford District has so many people devoted to artillery research, then they must have the largest arsenal of all the Districts. They must have the deadliest weapons here, weapons capable of taking out entire countries, weapons capable of destroying the United States, weapons capable of signaling the re-start of the human race. This seems to be the most Sovereign concentrated District of them all, and also, the most deadly. They seem so organized, functioning as a well-oiled machine.

It seems to me that there is no reason why the ultimate control over all the Districts isn’t coming from this location. Someone or something has control over them all. And just as it seemed in the other Districts, I’m sure it’s Crane.

“Would you like to see the Molecular Research Unit?” George interrupts my thoughts. I turn to see that he and Adam have circled back to where I am standing.

“Sure,” I tell him. Adam raises his eyebrows at me. I’m sure I had some odd look on my face, being so deep in thought.

We return to the subway. The Molecular Research Unit is above ground, in the government built research facilities. This subway ride is a little longer but getting above ground is nice. I’m not sure how they can live down there.

“You make the medication here?” I ask George, staring at the placard on the wall of the research facilities. It points towards what is called the “Resident Medication Manufacturing Lab.”

“Yes, it’s manufactured here. Actually, it’s named Halcyon.” He pushes at his glasses and his hair. “The others don’t like to use the name, they tell us it’s in case someone tries to trace where it’s manufactured.”

“Have you had a problem with someone trying to find out where it’s made?” I ask.

“No, not yet, but one can never be too careful.” He shrugs as he walks down a hallway. Adam and I follow him.

“Are you okay?” Adam asks me as we trail behind George.

“Yeah,” I respond. “Why?”

“You look, tired, or something.”

“Hmm. I’m fine. I think.” I tell him, realizing that I am suddenly quite tired.

The molecular genetics lab is impressive, but it’s not quite as large as the artillery lab. Still, it’s filled with expensive instruments, computers and plenty of scientists in white lab coats. Now I see how Crane was able to stock the lab he provided for me. They have at least three of everything here. After smiling and shaking dozens of hands, I begin to feel the effects of walking around all day. I reach for the backpack, digging for something to eat and drink. Just as I open a bottle of water George suggests we go to Headquarters and I agree without argument.

We walk outside now down a well traveled road, but there are no cars, only people walking on foot or riding bicycles. George points to buildings as we walk, naming off what they are used for. There’s a building to collect rations, a place to drop off the harvests, a place for fabrics and clothing, and a large medical facilities building. The path we walk is well worn, and people start to trickle out of the nearby buildings, watching us as we pass. It’s when we pass a building labeled “Natural Birthing Center” that I stop and stare. Inside I can see dozens of women, their lower abdomens fully extended in the last days of pregnancy, much further along than I am.

“You have a birthing center?” I ask George.

“Yes, well, we let them choose, they can birth here or at the medical facilities.” He starts to push at his glasses, but stops, rubbing at the back of his neck instead.

“There must be dozens of women in there, George, in their last trimester of pregnancy. How many more are there?” I ask.

“Perhaps we should go back to my office and talk. I don’t want them to see you upset.” He glances towards the birthing center. “The women here, they don’t take well to the men distressing those with child, such as yourself.”

We make our Volker and the Guardians wait outside the door. The office is small and piles of papers and books line the walls.

I cut to the chase. “How many are there, George?” I ask him.

“Well, I don’t have exact numbers, some of them don’t come in for care until they are about to deliver.” He gives a nervous laugh, pushing up his glasses. “You see the people here are so smart and they have so much education that they don’t feel the need to check in. They feel like they can care for themselves in these situations.”

“So how many do you know of, right now, who are ready to deliver?”

“Well, right now there’s about seventy-five…” he raises his eyebrows at me, hopeful that I can figure it out without him telling me.

Seventy-five pregnant women who are ready to deliver, that’s seventy-five new mouths to feed, new clothes to make. Then I remember what he told me not so long ago: we don’t have the room down here anymore. I remember the classrooms filled with students. I know the problem with Hanford, they need to stop having babies.

“George, what are you thinking?” I ask him. “Do you need some ruthless new leader here? You have to enforce the rules. The population needs to be controlled. Your Sovereign need to resume birth control methods, or ship them out. There’s room in Crystal City, there’s room in Tonopah and Phoenix. If they want to stay here, they need to start following the rules.”

George lets out a sigh of exasperation. “You don’t understand, Andie, the Sovereign are unified on many levels, but this one… I’m afraid we took in too many.”

“This is the reason the Funding Entities made the Districts. The reason why they tore apart this country and the rest of the world-overpopulation. If the others find out what’s going on here you know what’s going to happen. You’re going to lose this District, and I don’t mean lose control of it. Crane is going to decimate your population. We can’t stand to lose all these gifted people if he takes matters into his own hands.”

“Yes, yes, I suppose.” He continues to fidget, pushing at his glasses, swiping at his hair. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard to get them to listen.”

“You will be saddled with thousands of elderly Sovereign, then you will have to assign people to care for them. The resources aren’t there. You can't allow this any longer. You have to put your foot down, George.”

“Yes, I suppose I do.” He responds meekly.

It seems he’s not taking this seriously enough. He’s not stepping up and facing this problem. Of all the people I’ve met, I really like George. He’s the type of person I’d be friends with, if things weren’t the way they are. But I can’t let him continue on like this. I can’t bear to think of what Crane would do to him and this place.

Now I see why Crane and Sakima are so ruthless. And now, I have a tiniest bit of empathy for the control they've been able to gain over their people.

It only takes me a few moments to formulate my plan. I don’t even bother discussing it with George or Adam.

--

Against the wishes of George and Adam I walk to the birthing center. Adam trails behind me, close enough so I know he’s there, but far enough that others may not suspect him. I know it will be filled with women-women who need to hear this from me before they hear it from George. Just before I get to the door I signal for Adam to stay outside. This is my mission, not his.

I can see some of the women watching me approach through the glass front window. I reach for the metal door handle and pull the door open. The inside of the birthing center smells like baby soap. It smells like the NICU where I used to work. I push back the longing for my past life, the ease of it. I can’t deal with that right now. I smile at the room, placing my hands on my pregnant stomach. I’m not as far along as these women, but the action has the desired effect. They direct their attention down, noticing that I too am pregnant. Suddenly this pregnancy is a blessing, I am just like them. They will trust me, at least a little bit more now that they have a way to connect with me, we all have something in common.

A woman in a pink flowing dress and long dark hair steps forward. “You must be Andromeda, we’ve been expecting you.”

“You have?” I ask innocently.

“How are you feeling?” she asks. “We hear you’ve been travelling for a long time now.”

I smile. “I’m just tired,” I tell her with a slight sigh.

“Yes, dear, I’m sure you are. You must rest. Come, sit and eat something.” She takes my hand, leading me to a table filled with fresh fruits and vegetables. I know I can’t eat this, no matter how trusting these people seem. The events of the last two Districts are still too fresh in my mind.

“I’m sorry.” I do my best to smile at her. “I don’t really have time to relax. I have to be on the road soon. I have a daughter who I need to get home to.” At first, I’m worried as to how I might segue into what I need to tell them. So I decide to just say it. “I’m not sure if you know why I’m here, but I was sent by Crane to solve your District’s problem. Do you know who Crane is?” I watch as their heads bob up and down. Of course they know him. “Then you know that the failure of any District is forbidden and he will do whatever he can to ensure they prosper. I’ve been brought here because your population is out of control. While the other Districts have ample space for procreation, Hanford is running out of room. You can’t have more children. Not for at least fifteen years, maybe even longer.”

The women start mumbling amongst themselves, obviously agitated by my words. “I say this because things will change if it doesn’t stop. Things that you’ve never dreamed of will begin to happen. I’ve seen the other Districts. I’ve seen how they are run. And to be honest with you all, I much rather enjoy it here. But if this doesn’t stop, you will be assigned another District Manager, the Volker will come in the thousands, people will be shipped off to other Districts, families split up, and some will be asked to leave altogether, banished amongst the Survivors.”

I know the Entities are privy to the details of my life, but these women aren’t, so I tell them about it. I tell them everything about my life. About how I lost Ian, how I almost lost Lina, and how I have been ordered to tour the Districts, splitting me from my family. When I am done I show them the deep bruising across my wrist. I turn and pull up my shirt, showing them the scars across my back, the Tonopah seal burned into my skin, the lumps from healed bones.

They gasp in horror and grip their abdomens. They whisper and chat and sigh in sympathy for me. When this begins, I know what I have done will work. Because even intelligent women gossip. If I tell a few dozen now, they’ll have the word spread by bedtime. I do this with one expectation in mind, to instill fear in them. Fear is an excellent motivator. If these women don’t fear for themselves then they will fear for the safety of their children. And they will do exactly what I did: protect them at all costs.

--

“Well, Andie, your work is done here.” George tells me with a relieved smile. “You know what needs to be done now.”

How could I forget? “Yes, George.” I sigh. Adam’s eyes flit between us.

I unbutton the top three buttons of my shirt and pull my shoulder out. The image from Tonopah is only three days old and not completely healed. As George preps my skin I stare at the large map of North America that hangs on his wall. I avoid eye contact with Adam. I’m quite certain he doesn’t know about this. My mandatory branding for a job I never wanted, one I never got the chance to disagree about. When George is done, he places a transparent film over both of the brands.

“This will help them heal faster,” he tells me.

“George, is there any way you can connect me to Phoenix? To my home? I need to talk to my family, my daughter,” I ask.

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “Just let me find your number.”

I wait patiently as he searches a pile of papers on his desk. I find it odd. He is so kind, not cutthroat like the rest of them. He’s like Morris, and I will never forget his kindness.

“What was that all about?” Adam asks from behind me. “Why do you have the other District tattoos on your back?”

I look away from the deep crease forming between his eyes. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Ah, here it is!” George holds up a small piece of yellow paper. He picks up the phone on his desk, punches a few buttons, then hands the receiver to me. I hold my breath while the phone rings, praying someone will answer and that nothing has happened.

“Ah, hello?” I hear Sam’s voice answer.

“Sam? Is that you?”

“Yes, Andie?” he asks.

“Yes, Oh my God, Sam! I can’t believe it worked.”

Sam tells me that all is well at home. They are fine, nothing has happened. I’m able to talk to Lina for a short bit. Telling her I’ll be home soon. Hanging the phone up was almost as hard as leaving. I don’t want to be here. At least I had safety at the Pasture, I had protection, and I had my family. Out here I’m exposed and it’s a feeling I don’t like.

“Can you write down that number for us, George?” Adam asks.

He pulls a small piece of paper off the desk and transcribes the number onto it.

“What do you want the number for?” I ask Adam.

He leans close. “Because I have a cell phone and it works,” he whispers in my ear.

“Well, collect your things. I’ve been ordered to fly you to Alaska,” George tells us as he sorts through this messy desk, not noticing that Adam was whispering secrets in my ear.

I remember the planes from the artillery lab. “Flying?” I ask.

“Yes, you’re flying to Alaska. The District there is called Galena. Then you’ll fly back here to resume your travels. We’ve all agreed, the train is fast, but it will take too long. The Canadian territories are still in disarray, we can’t be sure the tracks haven’t been disrupted. Flying will be safer and faster.”

CHAPTER twenty-two

As we collect a few things from the train Adam tells me about his phone. It’s the cell phone he took off his contact during the bombings. He’s been holding on to it ever since, hopeful the secure tower will still be working. He found a charger in Crystal River, when they went outside the District walls to search for supplies and people. Since George has been so lax on keeping track of us here, Adam had time to plug the charger in and turn the phone on. Now we have a way to call home, Sam has a way to contact us, and Adam has a way to contact whoever is left of his government superiors.

When George told us we were flying I was expecting a plane. Instead he brings us to a long, double propeller helicopter. I’ve seen these before, flying over Phoenix on their way to the northern military bases.

“Haven’t seen one of these in a while.” Adam slaps the side of the dark green machine. “It’s a Boeing Chinook,” he turns to me. “Last time I was in one of these I was flying over Iraq.” His smile melts away as soon as the words roll of his tongue. He’s remembering.

“Let’s go, Colonel Waters.” I pull at his sleeve, thinking of ways I can distract him from remembering what happened to him in that sandy desert. As we round the back of the helicopter I see it is packed with crates and a few extra people. “What’s all this?” I ask George.

“Supplies for the Galena District and a few Sovereign to fly this beauty.” He turns to Adam. “There are weapons and ammunition for you and your Volker, if you should need them.”

Adam nods. He says nothing. His eyes have turned dark, his lips pressed into a straight line.

Alexander returns as I’m leading the four Guardians onto the helicopter. He is accompanied by a young man, who looks just like a younger version of himself. It’s easy to see Alexander does not want to leave this place, no more than I wanted to leave Phoenix. I think to myself how awful would it be if I were assigned to another District, leaving all my family behind, my children. I push the thought from my mind. That is something I will never let happen.

We say our goodbyes and board the Chinook. We meet our pilots, Captains Chase and Devin, who assure us they’ve flown these particular helicopters many times. Adam helps me with the strange belts, fastening me into the seat I’ve chosen near a small window. He sits next to me, fastening himself in. I watch George from the window. He shields his ears as the propellers start up. Then he’s backing away, almost tipping over from the force of the propeller blades. He points to someone standing near the wall. I notice something falling from the ceiling. It’s tan, almost clear. When I look up I see it’s sand falling from the glass ceiling as it opens just wide enough to let the airborne helicopter through. We rise into the atmosphere above Washington State.

--

We fly to the coast. Unable to avoid flying over Seattle, the pilots warn us as we approach, giving us the option to shy away or close our eyes. Instead we all peer out the small windows, eager. The devastation is the same as it’s been elsewhere-deep pockets of exploded earth, buildings blown in half. The Chinook flies low enough for us to see Survivors pointing at the sky.

The worst part is seeing the Seattle space needle. Everyone knows what the space needle is, even if you’ve never been there. It’s broken in half, the needled tower now pointing to the ground, instead of high in the sky, held together by a few pieces of blackened, bent metal.

The energy in the Chinook has changed in just a short time. There was a slight exhilaration, an excitement for our helicopter ride. Now it’s replaced by a collective somberness. The pilots do their best to avoid Vancouver, but they can’t get far enough away to hide the rising plumes of smoke coming from the city. Not soon enough we are at the coastline, following it to the tiny town in Alaska where the Galena District is.

The pictures out the window are replaced with nature, mountains, snow and ocean. There are no more demolished cities or towns to look at.

“Why did they choose Alaska?” I ask Alexander.

“We still need oil,” he tells me. “Oil production and alternative energy research. That is what the Galena District specializes in.”

“It seems kind of far away to me.”

“Yes, it is. But to be self sustaining, the Entities agreed to only use natural resources within our continent.”

“How do they plan on transporting across the Canadian territories?”

“Soon there will be no difference, Canada and the U.S. will become one. The Districts will work together.” Alexander leans his head against the wall, closing his eyes. I’m guessing he’s done talking for the time being.

I hear a soft tapping coming from Adam’s seat. I turn to find him rapidly tapping his fingers on his knee, the muscles in his jaw tightly clenched. Being transported in a military helicopter must be bringing back his memories of the Middle East. I’m sure when his broken body was transported to Germany it was in something similar to this helicopter.

I reach out and take his hand. It doesn’t do much. He just keeps tapping with the other hand. I wish that I could do something for him, that there was something I could say to reciprocate for all the times he has helped me escape the memories with soft conversations whispered in my ear. Up here I have nothing to work with. Everyone is pretending to be occupied or sleeping, but I’m sure they are watching us. I feel the slight throbbing in my abdomen, the baby kicking. I take his hand and place it over my stomach so he can feel the movement. It doesn’t stop the tapping, or the clenching in his face.

I lean over and whisper in his ear, “Perhaps you could close your eyes and think of a name for your son.”

I watch as his tapping slows and his face softens. I suddenly don’t care if anyone is watching us. I place my hand over his. They must have figured out what’s going on between us. It’s been over a week. I’m sure they’ve seen Adam sneaking into my bunk in the middle of the night, the way we watch each other. These people are too smart not to have figured out that Adam is the father of my baby and that we’ve been sneaking around, trying to hide it.

--

I’ve been watching the ocean, hopeful that I might see a whale for the first time in my life. But I see nothing, just vast blue sea. As the helicopter continues on I notice a change in the water. The dark blue turns into a slight purple color, then a deep rusted red.

The ocean is red.

I’ve heard of the toxic red tides, which have occurred all over the world, when harmful bacteria blooms threaten the wildlife. But this looks so different.

I kick at Alexander’s feet, trying to wake him from his fake sleep. “The ocean is red.”

He doesn’t even open his eyes. “Yes, I know this.”

“Why is it red?”

“Someone seeded it with iron, in hopes to pull carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere.”

I want to ask Alexander why he is being so distant, so standoffish. It’s getting annoying. I get the sense something bad may be in store for us here. Worse than what we’ve already encountered.

Devin warns us that we are about to land.

There is a small airport below us and a group of people waiting. As we get closer, one of our Volker speaks for the first time. “Oh my God, it’s President Berkley.”

I lean over to look out his window and see the President of the United States standing next to the landing pad. He wears a suit, a dark blue tie, a tiny pin of an eagle on his pocket.

As we unload and walk over to him he shakes my hand first. “I hear you like to be called Andie. Nice to finally meet you.” He has dark black skin and blue eyes. A combination I’ve never seen before in any person. It’s probably one of the reasons he was elected-his good looks, his charm. I’m sure they didn’t hinder him during the elections. Still, I can’t help but feel something about him reminds me of Baillie. Before I have a chance to respond he moves on to Adam. “Colonel Waters,” he salutes Adam. Whatever Adam is feeling by seeing President Berkley, he’s hiding it well. “Welcome to the Galena District,” Berkley tells all of us.

The pilots stay with the helicopter, refilling it with fuel for our flight home and unloading the crates sent from Hanford.

The small airport happens to be the District Headquarters, so we walk to the main entrance. The Volker stare. I stare. Adam stares. Alexander looks to his feet as he walks. I was told that Berkley took part in the planning, but seeing him in person makes it all too real.

“I take it you saw our red ocean on your way in?” He asks me as we walk.

“Alexander says it was seeded with iron,” I tell him.

“Yes, the result of a rogue scientist. Someone unaware of the changes which were about to take effect.” He looks directly at me. “By that I mean the bombings.” I catch him glance at Adam, who has been watching President Berkley intently since we arrived. “He had hoped to lower the atmospheric carbon dioxide levels caused by the large population, by the pollution. Well, they shifted, drastically. Without the pollution to counteract the effects of the seeding, the algae bloomed. Now, we have the red ocean. And we have no fish to eat, no fish to export, no fish for the wildlife to eat. We’ve resorted to hunting moose and bear in the mountains.”

It occurs to me this must be why our winter was so bad, why we had so much snow, more than I’ve ever seen. Without planning on it, this man changed the atmosphere.

“So what happened to the person who did this?” I ask.

“We have him in custody, of course.” President Berkley flashes me a bright smile, proud that he apprehended the offender.

Something tells me I should not trust this man. Not even a tiny bit. I already know from Adam that he is one of the masterminds of this. He must be a Funding Entity. I can tell I’m right by the look Adam gives me as he holds open the door to Headquarters. He stops each of our Volker, whispering some command to each of them. It’s another one of those moments where I want to turn around and run away.

Berkley stops in the reception area, turning to us and crossing his arms. I take note of the Volker guarding the doors. We are not taken to a Committee room, or given the local Manifesto to review. No, something seems odd with this visit.

“His name is Norman Eckstein,” Berkley tells us.

“Is that the man who put the iron in the water?” I ask.

“Yes, one of our Sovereign, and I need you to deal with him.”

“Deal with him?” I look to the others in my group, unsure of what he’s hinting at.

“He’s a criminal-look what he did to the ocean. This cannot be tolerated. An example needs to be made of him.”

“But if he’s a scientist, he’s Sovereign and he’s protected. Your District needs him.” I look to Alexander, who merely walks towards the door as if he’s going to leave. He will not help me talk my way out of this.

“Not anymore,” Berkley tells me. “We’ve done fine without him for this long. He can be replaced. Besides, Hanford is teeming with scientists.”

“What am I suppose to do with him? You want me to escort him to your gates, evict him from your District? Your Volker can do that for you.”

“No, he knows too much. What if he told the Survivors of our location? We can’t risk that.”

“Then I don’t understand what am I supposed to do,” I reply.

“Shoot him in the head, of course,” he tells me, matter-of-factly.

“I’m not shooting anyone,” I tell Berkley, sticking my chin out at him.

“You will, if you want to leave.” He flashes his bright smile at me again. “Norman is going to die today.”

Berkley waves to one of his Volker who leaves the reception area, returning a short time later with a short, bald man in handcuffs. He certainly doesn’t look like a criminal. He looks like someone’s father. He probably is someone’s father.

There are no trials in these Districts. Somehow, guilt is determined by the Entities and the Sovereign. The punishment, too. When the man named Norman looks at me, I lose it.

“I am not killing anyone!” I retract every step I’ve taken since arriving, turning and walking as fast as I can towards the door. I glare at Alexander as I get closer to the door. He simply steps back, avoiding my eyes. I can hear footsteps behind me. Just as I clear the door, pushing my way outside, someone grabs my arm, hard. I wince, turning to see who it is.

The President of what was the United States is screaming in my face. “You will do this. You have been ordered to do this! And I will not have to worry about Crane and his punishments. I will not deal with anymore of Crane’s threats hanging over my head. Complete the task! I do not want Crane’s minions on my land!”

Ah, yes, another Entity afraid of Crane. “Crane scares you, Mr. President?” I ask him mockingly.

Berkley doesn’t have time to respond because Adam is there, punching him in the face so hard he falls to the ground. “Keep your hands off her. In case you forgot, President Berkley, we are here to protect Andromeda. I can’t have her returned to Crane damaged.”

At first there is silence, and then a quiet laugh comes from Berkley as he lies on the ground. He turns, wiping the blood off his lips. “Well, Colonel Waters, I see what side you’ve chosen. I wonder if Crane would like to know the things you’ve done and what you are truly capable of.”

“Shut your mouth, Berkley!” Adam growls at him.

“Ha!” Berkley spits a mouthful of blood onto the ground. “What are you, her personal knight-in-shining-armor? Does she know what you’ve done, what you’ve promised to do?”

Adam pulls his pistol out of the holster and points it at Berkley. “Shut up or I’ll shut you up.” He turns to me. “We need to leave, Andie. Can you do this?”

“I… I can’t kill someone.” I shake my head at him, my hands shake and there’s an endless dropping feeling in my stomach. I can’t believe they sent me here to kill someone.

“Fine,” he replies, coldly. He closes his eyes, for just an instant, taking a deep breath in. He walks to the Volker who are escorting Norman, pulling the man away from them. He pushes Norman in front of him. “Walk fifteen paces, enough for an Our Father, or whomever you pray too,” Adam tells the man named Norman.

The rogue scientist walks, smiling oddly at Adam’s directions. He turns, saying something out loud in another language that I barely recognize as Arabic. Adam shoots him instantly, exactly between the eyes, before the man can continue in his foreign language taunting.

“Adam.” I run to him. “How could you do that, how could you just shoot him like a cold-blooded killer?” I can’t control the appalled tone of my voice.

He glares into my eyes. “I am no more a cold-blooded killer than this man.” He waves towards the lifeless body on the ground.

“But-” I start, the words escaping me.

“How could you keep secrets from me?” Adam asks. “Were you planning on telling me about your forced pairing, that they offered to give you back Ian?” I step away from him as his words rip through me. How could he have known? I don’t ever remember telling him that. “Do you want to know what he said before I shot him in the head? Do you even care?” He doesn’t wait for my response, and I’m so shaken I’m not sure I could give one. “He said to me, I thought we killed you once already.”

Oh shit. I think Adam just stepped into a trap. And for all the times he’s saved my life, I get the feeling I’m going to have to save his very soon, even if he did just kill one of his captors from the Middle East.

“Well, now that that’s taken care of, we have one last thing.” Berkley brushes the soil and grass clippings off his suit. He pats a handkerchief to his bleeding lip. One of his Volker hand him the tattooing instrument. “Although, I think Colonel Waters should be receiving this token, but daresay I go against the wishes of our great Crane.”

I wouldn’t have given him the pleasure of seeing me flinch when he pressed the instrument to my skin. That is, if he had used the numbing agent. But he didn’t. He burned the image of a large flame onto my shoulder, below the others, and walked away. All without a thanks, without a goodbye, without a come back soon.

Adam doesn’t stand by my side, he doesn’t question why I have the brands, he doesn’t ask me if I am okay. Instead he walks away from me towards the Chinook.

“We must leave, Andromeda.” Alexander has reappeared beside me. “Now.” He takes my elbow, leading me towards the Chinook.

“You knew this would happen,” I tell him.

“Unfortunately,” is all he replies.

“I don’t understand you, Alexander.”

“In time, you will. Just remember, that we are more alike than you may think.” He squeezes my elbow. I think he’s signaling that he just relayed an important piece of information to me. But I can’t decipher it, not right now, not after seeing Adam shoot that man in the head and then scorn me for keeping secrets. Everyone here keeps secrets, to the point where I barely know what the truth is anymore.

I’m not sure what just happened in the Galena District, but it brings forth a raging headache like none I’ve ever had before. I know, deep down, this has to be a sign that something worse is to come.

We fly back to Hanford in silence. The only noise comes from the heavy breathing of the four Guardians at my feet. Adam sits far from me at the other end of the empty cabin. His brow furrowed, his jaw clenched, his fingers tapping more rapidly than before. I close my eyes, feigning sleep. I can’t look at them anymore. I can’t look at Adam because each time I do, all I see is the bullet from his gun forcing itself into that man’s forehead and blasting out the back, spraying brain tissue and blood all over the tarmac. I can’t look at Alexander, because all I see is his silence and his unwillingness to help us out on this horrid trip. I can’t look at our Volker, afraid that their judging eyes might make me burst into tears. I keep my eyes closed and focus on the pounding of my head, trying to make it stop. I just want all of this to stop.

--

Returning to our train was just as silent as the helicopter ride returning us to Hanford. And Adam was just as distant, if not worse.

I can barely make sense of what happened. Who was Norman, really? Why did Crane instruct Berkley to have me kill him? I know that Adam killing that man may have dire effects. Sakima already warned me that this trip was a continuation of my training. Crane won’t take lightly to his orders being ignored.

I wait, afraid to sleep, listening to everyone else through the thin walls of the sleeping bunks around me. The headache which hit me in Galena has simmered to a dull roar. I try to relax to get it to stop. I try to focus on the smooth, rolling movements of the baby, pressing my hand to my abdomen, feeling him kick at the pressure of my hand. I decide I can’t take the silence any longer. I get up and walk to the engine car, stopping at the entrance. Adam stands alone, watching the track and landscape fly by in the night. I want to apologize for judging him so harshly. Because I know that there was nothing more I wanted than to shoot Crane between the eyes after he held me in the basement and let Baillie beat me. I am no better than him. And what happened to Adam in the Middle East was much worse than what happened to me, I can tell this from the scars riddling his body. Still, I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and find comfort in him. I can tell by the way he stands, stiff, straight, he won’t be having it.

He doesn’t turn around as I walk up beside him. He doesn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“I can’t do this much longer,” I tell him. I look down to my feet. I’m sure no one else has noticed the swelling, but I can see it. I can feel it with each step I take.

“You’re almost done, then we’ll move on. There’s one stop left before we’re back home.”

Home. The sound of that is almost comforting.

“No, we’ve been gone too long already.” I walk closer to him. “Look at me.” I point at my stomach. The clothes I brought are starting to stretch tight across the baby bulge. “My clothes don’t fit and I don’t feel well. We need to go home, Adam.”

He doesn’t bother looking, he just continues to stare out the window. “Can’t you wait just a little longer?”

“No. I need to go now.” Our eyes lock, finally. I take the moment to push the subject. “I need to go home now, Adam. Remember when Dr. Akiyama told me to take it easy or he would put me in the hospital? I’ve been getting headaches, which mean my blood pressure is high. I don’t want to be out here on a train when the baby comes. I can tell it’s going to be soon. However much of the medication I got in Crystal River, it’s starting to affect me.” I don’t tell him, it’s probably the stress of this trip that isn’t helping as well. I can’t take many more surprises.

“Then why don’t we go back to Hanford?” He asks. “They have medicine there. Their medical staff is more skilled that what we have in Phoenix. I can reverse the train, bring us back there.”

“No.” I shake my head at him. “I have to see Lina and Sam. If something happens, I can’t be stuck out here without them.”

“Two more days, Andie, all that is left is Kansas, then we’re done.” His voice is stoic, his affect flat.

I take the cell phone and paper from his pocket. He doesn’t even argue or ask what I’m doing. I punch in the number George gave us. It rings over ten times before Sam picks up. I must have woken him.

“Is everything all right?” he asks me.

“Yes,” I lie to him. “I just wanted to check on you and Lina.”

“Well, Lina is asleep. It’s the middle of the night here.” I hear him yawn into the phone.

“I know. I’m sorry, Sam. I just needed to check on you both. Nothing strange has happened?”

There is silence on the other end. “Something did happen yesterday.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, it was no big deal, Andie. It’s just that someone found the entrance to the Pasture.”

“Who was it?”

“Well, I was headed into town to get some rations from the store. And when I opened the gate Ian was standing in the road. All alone. He told me he was lost. The strangest part was he acted like he didn’t know who I was.”

“What did you do?” I ask him.

“I offered him a ride back to town. He got out at the store and just walked away. I have no idea where he went after that.”

So he found the Pasture. He knows where Lina is. Something is going on with Ian.

I say goodbye and push the phone and paper back into Adam’s pocket. Then I turn and walk away from him, annoyed at his sudden lack of concern. How quickly he has forgotten all the promises he made to me, that we made to each other.

“We need to stop this,” Adam tells me just as I reach the threshold to the sleeping bunks. I didn’t even hear him follow me.

“What?”

“Us. This. Whatever we’ve been doing.” He starts walking towards me, his eyes darker than they’ve ever been. “I'm no good for you, Andie. This has to stop.”

“What are you talking about?” I back up to the thin door of my sleeping bunk. To our sleeping bunk. I flick the door handle and back up into the room. Adam follows.

“I was wrong to think that I might have a chance at a normal life, that we could be something more. I can't bring you down with me. I might be able to keep you safe from the others, but I can't keep you safe from myself.” His face is still, no emotion.

“You're wrong, Adam,” I whisper, remembering Alexander is nearby and may hear us. “You haven't done anything to me.”

“You're wrong. I brought you here. I brought you into this.”

“But-”

“I did this to you.” He pulls my hand up so we can both see the deep purple bruising on my wrist from when he was medicated at the Tonopah District and twisted my arm. “I can't trust myself around you. I let my guard down and I can't let it happen again.”

“Don't do this, Adam,” I beg him.

“I've made the decision. I'm sorry. I thought I could change this, us, the way the world is now. I've done nothing but make this worse.” He pauses, looking down at his hands. “They trained me to do things that normal people wouldn’t.  Did you see how quickly I fell back into being that person?” He closes his eyes, squeezing his fists together. “You’re not safe with me, not anymore, not now.”

“Stop, please,” I try to argue with him. “You’ve done nothing to me.” I'm tired of people making decisions for me, tired of them thinking they know what's best for my life.

He turns to walk away but I pull at his arm and his shoulders as he walks out the door of my bunk. He simply shrugs me off. "You should get some sleep."

His suggestion is nothing but a slap in the face. He knows I won’t sleep. I can’t sleep. And now I may never sleep again.

Meanwhile,
in the Phoenix District…

Chapter twenty-three

Ian

I stare at my reflection in the small bathroom mirror. My face is slack, eyes partially glazed over. I think I’ve perfected it, the look of the Residents. I close my eyes, memorizing the feel of my face. I think I’ve got it now. When my eyes flick open I stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t look the same. But then, who would look the same after all of this? I touch the switch to the bathroom light immersing myself in darkness. I don’t remember much of what happened. The memories came back slowly. Much slower than I expected. Some days I still feel like I’m in a haze. Some days I am still confused. I think it must be a side-effect of taking that stuff for so long. Sometimes I stand here just like this, alone in the dark. It helps me remember. It helps me feel like I’m not living alone in a trailer on the grounds of the nuclear plant.

Sometimes I imagine I’m home. Sometimes the memories are so strong I can smell the lavender smell of our house, the strawberry smell of Lina’s hair, and Andie. I walk into the small living space. I no longer need the light. I can maneuver this place in the dark, with my eyes closed. There’s not much to the room. It’s a small bathroom, a single-bed, a closet for my clothes, a small table and two chairs. I don’t even have a kitchen or a couch or a television.

There’s a knock on the trailer door. It’s dinner. I know this because they bring it at the same time each night. I’m not sure why they knock. It’s not like I can open the door. It’s locked from the outside. Crane, he calls this my living quarters, but if a door locks from the outside it’s nothing more than a holding cell. I touch the light switch for the living space. A single bulb in the middle of the tiny room illuminates. The door opens. A man wearing the grey Volker uniform walks in carrying a tray. He sets the tray on the table, nods at me, and then leaves. I hear him lock the door from the outside.

Yea, it is definitely a cell.

I walk to the table and look at the tray. There’s a bottle of water, a bowl of brown gruel. I wrinkle my face in disgust remembering that I used to eat that shit.

Walking to the closet I open the door and find the jacket I wore to work yesterday. I reach in the pocket and pull out a shrink-wrapped set of snowballs. Junk food. Andie would kill me if she saw me eating this garbage. I check the date. It expired last year. I squeeze the package. The snack cakes still feel spongy. Opening the package I shove the entire snowball into my mouth. It’s still good, better than what’s slopped in that bowl. I walk to the table, chewing the spongy cake, trying to swallow it with a dry throat, trying to imagine it as a bacon cheeseburger. Not a sugary snack-cake with an over-dried coconut coating. I pick up the tray and carry it to the small bathroom. I dump the gruel in the toilet. Shoving the last snowball in my mouth I throw the package in the toilet. I stare longingly at the bottle of water. I’m so thirsty. Holding the bottle of water up to the light, I can see the particles floating in it. I could drink it. Just one swallow. But I’ve made that mistake before, that would put me behind. That would fuck up my head again. And then I would lose time, more time than I’ve already lost. And I’ve already lost years. I can’t afford to lose any more. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow. In the morning I can grab another one of those flat sodas from the vending machine and some more to eat. There’s not much left since I started this task of weaning myself off of their food. I’ve gone through all the chips, almost all the snack-cakes. There’s not much left now besides candy bars and gum. I’m going to need a new plan, soon.

It was bad when I stopped eating their meals. Two days without food was doable, but when it got to four something had to change. That’s when I shut down the third reactor. I took it offline, made it look like a computer error. And it worked. Then I found the vending machines. Not long after, the visits started from Crane.

I open the water and pour it into the toilet. My mouth is so dry it doesn’t even salivate at the image of the water. Maybe it’s because I know what it will do to me. I push the handle on the toilet and watch as it flushes. Hitting the light switch on my way out the door I stop in the doorway noticing the bound Manifesto on the floor. They handed me the Manifesto to read one night as I left my office. Bulletins were posted all over the boards at the plant explaining what happened, the bombings, the fall of the United States, this new regime that’s taken over. Then they took us to that assembly at the college. Things were still hazy, but I swear I saw Andie and Lina up on that stage.

I guess that man named Crane runs this place now. Picking up the Manifesto I flip to the dog-eared page of Andie. Memories. I wonder if she knows what they’ve done to me, or where they’re keeping me. I wonder what they’ve done to her.

There is a knock on the door. Usually there are no visitors after dinner. Just bed and then work in the morning. It’s funny that he would lock me up but still expect me to work for him. Unless it’s Tuesday, on Tuesdays they bring that woman and that child who looks just like me. He’s supposed to be mine, a boy. God, Andie and I tried so long for another baby. Anyways, I don’t remember having an affair with another woman. I’m sure I would remember cheating on my wife with another woman, someone I don’t know. She pretends to know me when she visits with the child.

I hear the jingle of keys outside the door. Closing the Manifesto I let my face go slack as the door opens.

“Ah, Ian,” I hear the voice of Crane. He looks to the Manifesto in my hand. “I see you’ve been reading up on the District.” Nodding at him I try not to breathe. I don’t want to smell his rotting-flower stench. “How have you been feeling?” he asks, searching my face. I shrug. “Hmm,” he scratches his chin. “It shouldn’t be long now, Ian, you’re almost weaned off of what we gave you.” I blink twice. “Let me see that Manifesto.” He holds his hand out. I place the Manifesto in his hand. I don’t ask questions. The Residents don’t ask questions. I’ve seen that from my co-workers. They do what they’re told. He flips to the page I was looking at. “You remember her?” He asks me, pointing to the picture of Andie. “Do you remember Andromeda?”

“I think so,” I say in a monotone voice. “I remember something about her,” I lie. I remember that she hates being called Andromeda. She likes to be called Andie.

He nods his head. I let my eyes flit to the open door. I could take him. He’s smaller than I am. Inches shorter, over a head shorter, and a little pudgy. I could take him down and finally get out of here. The problem is what do I do once I’ve made it out? I know Andie isn’t here. I saw her leave on that train. But Lina is, she’s at some place called the Pasture. No, I won’t punch him and run. I’ll keep up the act. It’s gotten me out of here a few times. And I got to see things, read things, sneak around when they expected me to be sitting in a chair for hours. The idiots.

Crane tosses the Manifesto on my bed. “Well, my boy.” He pats my arm. “You should be back to normal soon enough. Just a few more days and you’ll be done with your titration. And then…” He looks into my eyes, his are green, like Andie’s, and I hate that. “Then you will be back to normal and we can continue on with our plan.”

Good. Back to normal. I wonder if that means I get my family back? Either way, I can eat again without having that mind-numbing medication they put in the food cursing through me. Hopefully the acid-trip moments I’ve experience from time to time will go away. There’s nothing worse than coming-to and realizing you’ve lost hours, or days of your life.

“Good-night, Ian,” Crane tells me.

I just stare at him. I don’t want him to know that I’ve been off the medication for a while now.

He leaves, locking the door behind him.

Yup, still a holding cell.

I pick up the Manifesto and flop onto the bed. My body is jolted, the wind knocked out of me when I hit the hard bed frame under the mattress. No springs. Cheap-asses. I open the Manifesto to her picture.

There are some things that I remember. Yeah, some things I remember really well. I think it’s more than they had anticipated. I remember waking up to the earthquake. I remember how those people showed up right afterwards, stabbing me in the neck with a needle. Then it was foggy. I remember Catalina. But I was different. I couldn’t respond the right way to things. I can’t explain it, how it felt. But they took her, that lady in black with armed men. I wanted to do something-anything-to stop them, but I couldn’t. My mind, my muscles, they weren’t working together in the right ways. I just watched as they took her, wanting to run after them and take her back. I wanted to do something. I felt paralyzed.

I know Andie blames me for them taking Lina. That was apparent in her apprehension on the tracks. When she hugged me before she left. There was a look on her face, hesitation that shouldn’t have been there. I guess I would have blamed her too.

But now, too much time has passed. I have to get them back. If I play along I’ll get them back. I know I will. I have to.

Back to the tour.

CHAPTER twenty-four

Andie

To say the Wolf Creek District is beautiful would be an understatement. It’s amazing. The tracks are elevated, allowing us to see for miles within the fence. There are reservoirs on each side of the track and luscious prairies in-between. Spread throughout are herds of animals, roaming freely. From this distance I can’t tell exactly what they are, some look like buffalo, others look like horses and deer.

This District is responsible for wildlife repopulation. Helping domesticated animals learn to survive on their own, without human interference. The District brand is in the shape of a double helix, a single strand of DNA. I notice it as soon as John Blackmore, the Sovereign that greets us, shakes my hand. He’s warm, relaxed, he reminds me of Elvis.

I try to smile and be polite, but the dull headache from the day before remains. Then there’s the ache deep in my chest from Adam’s words, from him denying me. I denied him enough times, told him to go away, but he always came back. I wonder if this is how he felt, like there was a black-hole in his chest.

Alexander finally catches on that I’m not feeling well.

“John, how about you show us the enclosures, show Andie what you’ve been working on here,” he suggests.

“Sure, follow me.” John takes us to a bus and instructs the Volker at the wheel to take us to the breeding barns.

From the ground the District looks even more amazing. It seems to be split in half by another fencing system, the Residents and Sovereign on one side, animals on the other. I lean my forehead against the window and close my eyes. Hoping the cool glass may be able to hold off some of the headache. I’m tired, exhausted. There was no sleep for me last night. The discomfort of my body, and of knowing something wasn’t right with Adam kept me awake. For the first time on this trip he didn’t bother to sneak into my bunk, which can only mean he did not sleep either.

The tour of the barn starts off as I would expect any barn tour. I feel like I’m at the state fair. The scent of fresh hay mixed with animal waste permeates the barn. We start off looking at foals, goats, chickens, and various animals that have been domesticated for hundreds of years. Then, things start to get strange. As John walks, introducing the animals, how they’ve behaved being introduced to the wild, he becomes quiet towards the back end of the barn. Perhaps he was waiting to see our reactions before he said anything. We stare at the odd specimens before us. There are about twenty large rabbits with four ears instead of the usual two.

“This is where the troubling aspect of our work begins,” he tells us.

There’s a giraffe, its long graceful neck bent at odd angles, its head tipped off to the side. The next stall holds three large animals, what I assume are water buffalo, except there isn’t a strand of hair on their body, the horns have only developed into smooth nubs. As we progress on, the specimens in the breeding barn get worse, which I didn’t think was possible. There’s a herd of cows with extra limbs hanging off their bodies, their udders smooth and flat. Initially, the last animal looks as though the mutations may not be as grotesque. That is, until the black stallion raises its neck and turns towards us. There are two heads, melded together, three eyes, each of them a haze of white cataracts. I take a few steps back as the horse walks towards us, sniffing the air with three nostrils, sensing we are there. It whinnies out of its too wide mouth, with too many teeth.

“I thought you were breeding the animals here? What happened to these creatures?” I ask in disgust.

“Well, since you have such a strong background in genetics we were hoping you could help solve this problem,” John tells me calmly. He doesn’t seem to be as disturbed by these bizarre animals as we are.

“Who’s in charge of your genetics program?” I ask.

“Dr. Belamy Drake. He was chosen for this before we started, he was on the list as one of the best geneticists.”

I know this name. “Dr. Drake from Ohio? From the Institute for Genetic Enhancements?” I ask.

“Yes, that’s where he was taken from,” John replies

This means one thing. The man running their genetics program is my old boss, the reason why I stopped doing my research, the reason why I left and became a nurse. Dr. Drake was the first person I ever truly hated.

“Do you know him?” John asks, perplexed by my silence.

But he should know. I’m sure Crane knew, that’s why he was chosen for this task, for this test. “Yes, John, Dr. Drake was my old boss,” I tell him. “And I’m not looking forward to seeing him again,” I mumble to myself.

John brings us to another building next to the barn. There are cages of animals, laboratory equipment, a few people working at the lab benches. John crosses the room and knocks on a door. Of course, it wouldn’t surprise me that Dr. Drake would be hiding in his office and not taking part in the work. That’s what he always did.

The door opens and a man steps out. He’s wearing glasses and a lab coat. He’s younger than Dr. Drake, with clear eyes and dark hair. I can only assume he’s another one of the workers or his assistant. John brings him over to us.

“I would like to introduce you to Dr. Belamy Drake,” John tells us.

The man holds out his hand, ready to greet us, a smile on his face.

“That is not Dr. Drake,” I inform John.

Dr. Drake is older, much older, with yellowed eyes, and an alcoholic paunch. I’m almost relieved that it’s not him and I don’t have to feel his wandering gaze grazing over me. That gaze that reminds me how much he despises me. At least the feeling is mutual.

John looks from me to the impersonator. I can see the wheels churning. He’s making sense of why this program produced such horrid creatures. Something went drastically wrong here. The Sovereign were not properly identified. Someone was placed in charge of this project that had no background, no knowledge, no expertise. This is a failure. And failures are not allowed under any of the District guidelines.

By this time my head is pounding. My feet ache. I sit at one of the lab benches. John empties the lab, telling the workers to go home for the day. I listen as Adam and John interrogate the man.

“What was I suppose to do?” The impersonator repeats. “I had no choice, they were going to kill me.”

“Who was going to kill you?” Adam asks the man.

“Everyone, all of them. I couldn’t stay there in that wreckage. They were hunting us like animals.”

“Who was hunting you?” Adam asks.

“The Survivors.”

“And you were afraid of them?”

“Everyone was afraid of them. I’m sure whoever is left out there still fears them.”

“But you were a Survivor?” John asks the man.

“Not the same. I call them Survivors because that’s what you people call them. There are gangs. Groups of people fighting for power, for food. It’s just like hell out there. Maybe even worse.”

Adam crosses his arms and rocks back on his feet, contemplating his next move.

“You would have done the same thing.” The impersonator points at each of us. “You can’t tell me that every single one of you wouldn’t have done the same thing.” His eyes are red, panicked. “It’s like a little club you have here. You don’t know what it’s like, knowing that there were people allowed to live, to be safe, allowed to come here and live in peace!”

“So you thought impersonating a scientist was the right thing to do?” John asks the impersonator.

“You would have done the same,” he repeats. His shoulders slump in defeat, his lies discovered. “You would have done whatever you could to stay alive.”

“Where is the real Dr. Drake?” John asks.

“Hell if I know.” The man rubs his face and eyes. “There were bodies all over that lab. The only reason I hid there was because I figured the Survivors wouldn’t show up there a second time.”

“So you think he’s dead?” Adam asks.

The man shrugs. “Wouldn’t be surprised, lot of people died.”

“What’s your real name?” Adam asks.

“Garret Blum.”

“What did you do before all of this?”

“I was a plumber. Can you believe that? Not a toilet works in all that mess out there. But here, runs so smooth you don’t even need a plumber. I did good in science though. Read a lot. Couldn’t afford to go to a University. I know you are looking for people.”

I turn to Alexander who has decided to stand next to me. “Is he on the list?” I ask.

Alexander shakes his head.

“You sure?”

“He’s not on the list. He’s lying anyways. He’s not a plumber.”

“How can you tell?” I ask. He presses his lips into a thin line, thinking, deciding if he wants to tell me. I don’t give him a chance to explain. “Crane knew all along, didn’t he?”

Alexander doesn’t respond, instead he gives the slightest nod.

Adam instructs our Volker to watch the impersonator. Then he starts walking towards the office.

“What do you want to do now?” John asks Adam.

“We call Crane.”

“This place was designed to be run by a geneticist, by Dr. Drake. Now we have to replace him,” John says.

“Not my problem,” Adam tells him. “I’m sure Crane has some plan.”

Alexander looks at me.

“No way in hell,” I tell him. I don’t even give him a chance to ask me if I would relocate here. They can pluck a geneticist from Hanford if Dr. Drake is really dead.

I feel bad for this man. He was looking for safety and it was given to him. Still, this is unacceptable, intolerable by all the guidelines. There needs to be a better way to identify these people, to ensure new people, new Sovereign are who they say they are. Allowing another person to slip through the cracks like this could be devastating. It could prevent the growth of the Districts and it has been stressed far too often that failure is not an option. As much as I don’t want to admit it, someone needs to be punished. The proper guidelines were not followed. I doubt John will take the fall for this error, nor will any of the Volker or whoever went out there and brought this man back.

I listen as John contacts Crane from the computer in the impersonator’s office. Crane decides the fault does not fall upon any of them, but in the impersonator alone. He made the choice to lie and continue that lie, threatening the advancements of this District. And, of course, Crane has decided this infraction is punishable by death.

--

He has until dusk to do it. Fulfill an executive order from the Entities and Crane. They didn’t even suggest I do it this time. I couldn’t even do it last time. They know I could never kill a person. It would go against everything I believe in. Everything I’ve been fighting for. Preservation of some sense of humanity in this society that the Entities are creating.

Adam already shot a person in Alaska. I’m sure he’s shot people before. But this time, I think it ruined him. On top of that I did the worst thing I could. I called him a cold-blooded killer. I’m sure they wanted me to do it. They wanted me to kill someone. To be an assassin. That would be a sight. A pregnant woman, killing a defenseless man for seeding the ocean with iron. For going against the orders of Crane. Now, it’s been ordered again. And Adam said he would take care of this.

He changed when we stepped on that helicopter. Something in him shifted. I could sense it as much as I could sense the change in the cabin when we flew over Seattle. Everything is uncomfortable now. The air tense. My head throbs. I stare at him. He’s turning the pistol over and over in his hand, deciding, thinking. He stands motionless, the muscles in his back and arms tight. It’s when he turns the pistol over again I notice the slight shaking of his index finger. It’s a familiar movement. I remember my hands doing the same thing when I returned to my computer, after Morris rescued me from Crane and I was banished to the Pasture. Such a small token, the computer keyboard causing all those memories to come flooding back. I can see it now. All of his memories are coming back. The ones he shoved to the back of his subconscious during recovery.

Adam’s about to crack. He’s about to fall apart.

I feel like I haven’t done much for him since we’ve met. But he’s done plenty for me, and now I have to return the favor. Because right now, I realize how deceptive Crane and the other Entities are. How scheming they’ve been. They did this to us. They planned this godforsaken tour. Each and every detail. Putting Adam on that helicopter, they knew what it would do to him. It brought him back to a time when he would do anything to stay alive. When he would do anything for his country. When he could kill a person without flinching. Then, having one of his captors from the Middle East in Alaska taunting him, that did nothing but made him remember everything he’s been trying to forget for years. It cracked the solid government rehabilitation program he was put through. Now, he’s falling apart. Just like I did when I was banished to the Pasture. I can see it on his face, the way his eyes have darkened, his body has shifted to an unyielding tenseness. This is worse, much worse than what I experienced.

All this time I’ve been worried about them trying to medicate us by trying to sneak Halcyon into our food. They don’t need the medication to control us. They’ve already shown that they can do it quite well with just our own emotions. This is easy to see with the way Adam and I react to these situations they’ve put us in.

As I sit here thinking, watching Adam plummet into some unknown reality, I realize that Alaska was not a test for me. I did nothing there. It was a test for Adam. It was a test for him from the start. From the moment we walked into that hangar and that Chinook was waiting there for him. I know this because seeing that helicopter would have done nothing for me.

It only got worse with Adam seeing President Berkley, knowing he was supposed to be on a mission for the President. Then being forced to execute someone. Although, I think he did it freely. That man was one of his captors. One of the men that filled his chest with scars. That filled his head with scars. And I can’t say I blame him. After all, I was ready to shoot Crane in the head once.

The Entities haven't just been working on me. They've been testing the both of us. I think Adam was chosen for me long before I realized I wanted him. Out of all the people on the planet the Entities plucked us from the population and started priming us. I’m not sure what their final assignment will be for us, but I get the feeling that they are trying to create the perfect rulers: the ruthless soldier and the merciful scientist or nurse or mother. I guess I’m not perfectly certain what they are trying to turn me into. I just know that I’m not the same, and that I may never be the same. Who could be the same after all of this?

I just know that now I have to help him. I can’t let this weigh on his conscience along with everything else. It’s already ruining him. He took a bullet for me. Not in his chest or his body. He took it from me, and delivered it to someone else so I wouldn’t have that sin weighing on my conscience. I’m not sure if it was out of confusion or love or the need to protect. But there’s only one thing I can do. Something I’ve never done. I’ve never thought of doing before all of these changes. It’s something that I’ll never be able to forgive myself for doing. And when I’m done, I know it will change me for good, forever. It will probably drain the last drop of compassion left in my body. But I have no choice. I’m sure this must be another test for Adam, but I just can’t let him shoulder all this himself. Not again. I just hope Lina and Sam will recognize me when I get home. So much has happened out here that I’m not sure I’ll recognize myself when we get back.

I stand and walk towards Adam. If he notices me moving, he doesn’t let me know it. I reach out and take the pistol from Adam’s hand. He lets me take it and with its weight, I feel the burden of this task. I walk towards the impersonator who is waiting in an empty barn stall. His hands tied behind his back. Just another animal, I tell myself. I try to convince myself. Animals die every day. And we’re going to have to put down all those mutated animals. So one man for at least twenty animals. It sounds even, right?

“What are you doing, Andie?” Adam finally asks. He has walked up behind me. Silent. He’s always so silent.

I see out of my periphery that the others, Alexander and John, are just watching. Alexander must be taking notes. Waiting to see what unfolds so he can run back to Crane. So they can hold their own secretive meeting and decide if we’ve passed their tests. I don’t know why Alexander said he’s just like me. I might have seen it before. But not now.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to the impersonator as the pounding in my head worsens.

I don’t give myself time to think. I know there can be no hesitation whatsoever, because if I hesitate, I’ll never be able to do this. I have to do this. I have to do it for Adam. If it’s the last thing I can do for him.

I hear some strange sound coming from the back of someone’s throat. It comes from my throat. I remember how Adam taught me to shoot a gun. I grip the pistol with both hands and adjust my feet. Running my index finger over the cool metal, I set it on the trigger. And then, I do something I never thought I could. I shoot that man, the impersonator. I shoot him between the eyes. Like Adam did to Norman. Like I’ve envisioned doing to Crane so many times. Like the cold-blooded killer I accused Adam of being.

Why would I do that? How could I do that? I have to show them that they need to fear me. The Entities need to know that I could be ruthless, that I could be dangerous, that I am not afraid to end a threat.

I don’t have time to recover, to explain my actions for shooting this man in cold blood. Because my headache intensifies. Bright stars shoot across my vision, obstructing it. I click the safety on the pistol. Just in time as it falls out of my trembling hand clanging onto the ground. I try to grasp my hands together, to make it stop, but I can’t. They’re shaking too hard. The headache worsens. The stars become brighter. I hope to reach out and grab something as the trembling spreads to my legs, my knees. I have a sickening feeling in my stomach. Something is terribly wrong. When I open my mouth nothing comes out. Instead, I feel a cold breeze blow over my body, which is strange because it’s so hot here in the plains, in the middle of summer. Just as I feel my body sinking to the ground, my vision is gone. All I have of the sense is a blinding white brightness. My ears whistle with ringing. Then, there is just darkness.

CHAPTER twenty-five

I used to count things, the lines on the side of the road, signs, and window panes. I used to make sure they always added up to an even number. It was a compulsion, an obsession. It was how I coped with boredom. How I coped with a life I couldn’t control. How I coped when my mind was running a million miles an hour and I had no way to slow it down. But there are no lines painted on the asphalt, there is no asphalt. And there are no striped mile marker signs on the side of the rails. There are no houses out here. The train moves too fast, there's nothing to count, nothing to stop this fluttering in my head. It’s turned into headaches, sending stars of light screaming through my vision. I tell myself to sleep, to relax, but it is too hard knowing that we have more stops and I have more problems to solve. Problems that were never mine, that became mine when a group of men decided my future for me. I close my eyes, trying to close out the voices coming from the engine car and the shallow breathing coming from the Guardians. There is another sound. One that I can barely hear. A smooth, metallic flowing sound. I recognize it as the train sliding over the tracks. Every few moments there is a tiny almost imperceptible clack. It must be the breaks in the metal tracks where the lines are melded together. The sound seems to be evenly spaced. I listen closely, clack-clack, two. Clack-clack, four. Clack-clack, six.

--

There are few moments when I think I might be alert. When I can feel an annoying itch on my back, but I can’t quite reach it. It feels like it’s below the Galena District flame. It must be my new double-helix. At least John took the time to make sure the brand was there. To show that I completed the test before I was brought to the train.

I thought when Crane said we were going out to unite the Districts it was because there were uprising, because the people weren't coping with the changes. Now I see what he was really doing. He was uniting the Districts through us. It was a grand introduction. He was sending the both of us to meet the Entities, to pass our tests, to earn my badges, to solidify that this plan they had created was going to be successful. Now I understand much more than I ever wanted to. I understand why Crane made the decisions he did. Why he treated me the way he did. I may understand it. I don't have to like it.

--

I can hear them talking. By the smell I know I’m in the hospital. I am in Phoenix. I can hear the voice of Dr. Akiyama.

“It’s full blown eclampsia. We could have held it off if she had returned sooner. It’s too late now, she needs magnesium sulfate. We don’t have the means to manufacture that here.”

“What about the alcohol?” I hear Sam’s voice.

I keep my eyes closed. The pounding in my head is too strong to open them.

“Alcohol is easy to manufacture here, but it has nasty side effects. She can’t walk around drunk for weeks. And after she delivers there is still the chance the seizures could come back.”

Ah, yes, alcohol. A little yeast, a little heat, every chemist knows alcohol is easy to make. When I hear that’s what they’ve been giving me I struggle to open my eyes.

“Andie?” Adam sits at my side.

I try to move my head but it’s dizzy and foggy. I feel drunk.

“Where is Lina?” I slowly ask.

“She’s fine. She’s at home with Blithe and the other children,” Adam answers.

I see Sam and Dr. Akiyama walk to the bedside, noticing I’m awake.

“Take the baby,” I tell them. “Take the baby out.”

“It’s too early. You know that,” Dr. Akiyama replies.

“We could take her back to Hanford,” Adam suggests.

“No.” I try to shake my head. “I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving Lina again,” I mumble out unsure if they can even hear me.

“They don’t have the medication she needs there,” I hear Crane’s voice from the other side of the room. He must be watching, planning.

“Can’t they make it?” I hear Morris’ voice. I turn to see him sitting in a wheelchair at the end of my bed.

“That could take days, weeks even,” Crane replies.

“What about the hospitals out there?” Sam asks. “If there is any stock left at the abandoned hospitals couldn’t we use that?”

Dr. Akiyama rubs his forehead. “If you could find it and if it’s still sterile. Or if you could find the compounding agents from the hospital pharmacy we could use that.”

“I’ll go,” I hear Sam say.

“No,” I push out. “You can’t risk your life for mine. You don’t know what it’s like out there, Sam.”

The blood pressure cuff squeezes my arm. When it’s done I hear the monitor alarm behind me.

“You all need to leave. Her pressures are up again,” Dr. Akiyama tells the room. I watch as he turns the lock on my IV tubing. I get that foggy feeling in my head, worse than before. He just increased my dose of intravenous alcohol, it knocks me out instantly.

--

Sometimes I can hear them talking. Other times I can sense someone is in the room but I can’t bear to open my eyes with the headache and the feeling of being perpetually drunk. It’s an old method. A risky method. One that’s making my liver work harder and risking the baby being born with fetal alcohol syndrome. I can tell it hasn't been working. The headaches don’t go away. The blood pressure monitor keeps alarming. I need the magnesium.

I’ve seen this happen in the NICU before, when even the magnesium didn’t work. Mother’s delivering early only to have the eclampsia rebound and the seizures continue. A few even died while their infants survived, motherless.

I manage to open my eyes when I hear Lina singing at my bedside. Adam and Sam are there with her. I have just enough energy to reach out and push her hair out of her face before the monitors start beeping again and Sam takes her away.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Adam tells me from the foot of the bed.

“Where?” I ask. It feels like they lowered my dose. Moving seems easier, my head a little clearer. But my lips still feel a little numb.

“Crane spoke with Hanford. They’re making the medication. But we have to check the nearby hospitals to see if they still have the chemicals. Hanford is sending out a crew to check their nearby hospitals, also.”

“Don’t go,” I beg.

“It will be fine, Andie," Adam tells me. He looks out the window, not making any attempt to walk closer to me.

I look out the window, noticing for the first time snow is falling. “It’s winter?” I ask

“Yes.”

“It’s so early.” I can only assume it’s from the red ocean, it’s still disrupting the weather patterns. “Won’t the tracks be covered with snow and ice?”

“Yes, but someone has an idea about that. Ian got the third reactor running. We’re going to divert some of the current to the track. The heat will melt the snow and ice, keeping the tracks clear. Ian thinks it will work for a few hundred miles. Far enough to get us out of the bad weather.”

“How do you know it will work?”

“It will work.”

I don’t want him to leave. “Last time you left, you know what he did to me. I have no protection here. I can’t protect Lina from the hospital. I can’t do this. You can’t do this. You can’t leave me like this.”

“I'm sorry, Andie, but I’m going. I'm sorry I did this to you. I’m sorry that the baby is mine and it’s making you so sick. I just can’t seem to stop hurting you.”

It must be the stress of the conversation. I can feel my vision start to blur before the blood pressure monitor alarms. “Don’t go,” I continue to argue. My voice barely above a whisper.

He starts pacing the room. And turning to the window he says, “You’ll both be fine, Andie, because... because Crane is going with us.”

Suddenly my tongue is heavy. I have that cool feeling. Like after I shot that man. I can’t tell him it’s coming before it hits, another seizure. I hear Adam yell for the doctor.

--

I’m not sure how much time passes. At times I sense someone is in the room with me. A familiar smell. Not like Adam, but someone else. Someone else that I know who smells faintly of lemons. But I can’t find the energy to open my eyes.

The alcohol has warded off the nightmares I used to have. Now, I dream of colors, fields of flowers, Lina laughing in the sunlight. It’s nice, nicer than real life almost. Once, Ian was there, just standing in my dream, staring at me, until he opened his mouth and said, “Don’t you see?”

“See what?” I ask, my tongue heavy and thick.

“It’s like seeding a fish tank. The first few inhabitants are destined to death. Their only job is to prepare the waters for future inhabitants, so the future can have a better life.”

I truly am drunk.

--

“Is she awake?” I hear Crane’s voice.

“She should be lucid,” Dr. Akiyama replies. “I’ve weaned her off the alcohol. The magnesium should be taking affect now.”

“What do you want, Crane?” I ask, opening my eyes, the lids heavy, feeling like they’ve been glued shut.

He shifts nervously on his feet. Morris sits at his side in a wheelchair. He wheels out of the room without saying anything to me. For the first time since I’ve met Crane I can tell he doesn’t want to tell me something and he’s having a hard time hiding it.

“What do you want?” I repeat.

“We retrieved the medication. Dr Akiyama is prepping the operating room for you,” Crane replies.

I look around the room. It’s just Crane and the Doctor.

“Where’s Adam?” I ask.

Crane and Dr. Akiyama look at each other. Dr. Akiyama shrugs.

“Can she know?” Crane asks the doctor.

I find this strange, since Crane never asks anyone for their opinion when it comes to me. “Where’s Adam?” I repeat.

“He didn’t make it, Andromeda,” Crane tells me.

Something is wrong. He’s not speaking to me in that tone, that horribly condescending tone.

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

They wait, looking at each other then back to me.

“Adam! Adam!” I yell towards the hallway. I can see the shadow of a Volker outside my door.

“He’s not here,” Crane tells me.

“What do you mean he's not here? Adam!” I yell one last time.

Morris rolls into the room and up to my bedside, taking my hand in his he tells me, “He’s not here, Andie. I'm so sorry. He’s gone.”

“I don’t believe you,” I tell Morris. I turn towards Crane. “What did you do to him out there, Crane? Was that your reason for going? So you could get rid of him?”

“I did nothing to him. He died to save you, to save the baby. It was the ultimate act of bravery,” Crane replies.

“I don’t believe you. What happened?”

Crane doesn’t usually answer to questions, except this time he does. “We ran into a group of Survivors while gathering the supplies needed for the Hanford District to compound the magnesium sulfate. They were brutal. Savages. Just like I had feared.” Crane stops speaking to adjust his tie. Probably loosening it from around his guilty neck. “Crossbender was sending a helicopter to retrieve us from the hospital rooftop where we had been cornered. We lost twelve Volker up there, and Colonel Waters, just as the helicopter showed up. He threw me the package of chemicals, telling me to get on board, that he would cover me…”

“And?” I interrupt his pause.

“That’s when the Survivors broke through our barricade. He didn’t make it to the helicopter.”

“So what, you took off without him?”

“No, then I would have taken more of the blame. They had guns and other weapons. Crude weapons. Somehow. I wish we were outfitted with bulletproof gear. If we had just waited for the Hanford people to show up before going in. But Colonel Waters pushed us to go inside. He said we didn’t have time to sit around and wait. Anyways, he took a round to the chest, point blank.”

“So you just left him there? How could you?”

“You don’t understand, Andromeda, it was too dangerous.”

I swallow hard, fighting back the sensation which can only be tears. Adam had already given up on me. He told me so on the way to Wolf Creek. He had no reason to risk his life for me. It can't be true. None of this can be real. It has to be one of the nightmares that haunt me when Adam’s not there to hold me at night. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths, and try to wake myself.

After a few moments I hear the steady squeak of a rotating tire. The door closes. It’s over, finally, I think to myself. I open my eyes to see Crane sitting at the foot of my bed.

“Go away,” I tell Crane, trying to hide the shake in my voice. “I’m not afraid of you, or your lies.”

“You’re not dreaming, Andromeda.”

It can only be a dream. “This is just another nightmare,” I tell him.

I hear him take a deep sigh.

“I don’t apologize for my actions. They are always well thought out. With expected outcomes. But this was not what I intended. This is a dire loss for all of us.”

“Stop,” I warn him. “I don’t care to hear your words.”

“Andromeda, I’m truly sorry. I think... I never should have sent you to unite the Districts. I should have waited. Colonel Waters was a great asset to our District, irreplaceable. Your pairing still needs to be completed, so we have decided Ian is yours.”

“I don’t want anyone,” I tell him. “I just want to be alone, with my children. I just want peace from this.”

“You no longer get a choice. Fate has decided for you this time.”

I turn my eyes to the white ceiling tiles, focusing on the tiny holes, trying to blink back the tears, but it’s no use. One escapes, sliding down my cheek.

“I’m truly sorry, Andie.”

“Don’t call me Andie,” I tell him. That’s a nickname reserved for family and friends. Not for him. “Go away, Crane,” I tell him as calmly as I can manage without screaming at him.

The door opens again. I hear Dr Akiyama’s quiet footsteps. I watch him as he twists a syringe onto my IV port. “This is your sedation, for the c-section,” he tells me.

“But you said the baby’s too small. It’s too early,” I say.

“You’ve must’ve lost track of time. You’re about thirty-six weeks now.”

I look down at my stomach. It does look bigger. Only slightly though. It seems he might be telling me the truth. It doesn’t matter. I’m done trusting all of them. I let the warmth of sedative envelope me in a dark cocoon. My eyelids become heavy and after a few moments I can no longer keep them open. I let them close on their own, anticipating the numbness, welcoming it.

“Is she asleep?” I hear Crane ask.

“Yes. What do you want to do with the baby?” Dr Akiyama asks.

“Give it to her.”

“Are we aborting the original plan?”

“Yes, I think we’ve put her through enough. She’s done what we’ve asked, and there is still much more that needs to be done,” Crane replies. “If the child is even half as resourceful as its father, we can use it. Give her the child. We can have no more heartache for this one. Or she will be of no future use to us. Failure is not an option.”

--

I wake to find that my heart does not ache. Not for the loss of Adam, or hearing the words that passed between Crane and the doctor as the sedative was oozing through my veins. Ache is not an accurate description. It burns. It burns with an overwhelming sadness and sense of betrayal and need for revenge.

“Mommy?” I hear Lina and instantly lose that feeling.

Sam enters the room carrying something in his arms. “How are you feeling?” he asks me.

“Better,” I lie to him, trying to ignore the pain from both my body and my heart.

“Congratulations.” He walks towards me, holding out the bundle in his arms for me to take. I look down at my body noticing that my abdomen is deflated. “He’s two weeks old,” Sam tells me. I flash him a look of confusion. “When you didn’t wake up, they let me and Lina stay in the room next door and take care of the baby.”

“Where’s your shadow, Astrid?” I ask.

“She’s with Blithe until we go home.”

Sam places the bundled baby in my arms. I settle the bundle in my lap, pulling my knees up so the baby and I are face to face. He’s small. His skin not as pale as mine or Lina’s. I push his blue knit hat up revealing a head full of thick, black hair. His eyes flutter open in a dreamy infant motion. They are blue, light blue. There’s no arguing, this is Adam’s child, it looks just like him. I don’t even see a speck of myself. But he is my baby. The bond between us is already strong. Suddenly all those horrible things I did over the past few weeks are tucked into the back of my memory. I can’t even think of them right now. I hold him to my chest, kissing his soft cheeks, letting the tears flow out of my eyes.

“Isn’t he cute, mom?” Lina asks.

“He’s beautiful,” I tell her, wiping my face with the blanket covering my bed.

“What are you going to name him?” Lina asks.

I realize I never chose a name. I asked Adam on our way to Alaska but he never told me. I do the one thing that only seems right not having him here.

“What do you think we should name him?” I ask Lina.

I look up to see Sam smiling at us.

She holds her index finger to her chin, deep in thought. “I think his name should be Raven.”

“Why did you choose that name?” I ask her.

“Because Ms. Black says Ravens are smart. Smarter than most people. He’s already a smart baby. I can tell.”

I look down to the baby who seems to smile as Lina talks.

“I think that’s a good choice, Lina.” I kiss them both.

“Welcome, baby Raven,” Sam says as he reaches forward, tugging on Lina’s long braided hair.

CHAPTER twenty-six

I get the feeling that someone felt very sorry for me as I look around my bedroom at the Pasture. I had nothing for this baby. But now a hospital bassinet is in my bedroom, along with stacks of cloth diapers, piles of hospital blankets, and small infant gowns. I feel like the appropriate response would be to cry in thanks. But I can’t seem to produce any tears.

I hear the creak of floorboards behind me. And when I turn Lina is there doing her best to tip toe into the room. “I didn’t want to wake him,” she whispers to me.

I sit in the rocking chair that has been moved to my room. Setting the baby in one arm I reach out and pull her onto my lap. “I love you, my little Catalina,” I tell her, kissing her forehead.

“Isn’t it great, mom?”

“What’s that?” I  ask.

“We’re all together again. You and me, the baby, and Daddy.”

“What do you mean Daddy?”

“He moved in yesterday, before you came home. He’s at the barn with Elvis. He’s just like he was before those people came, remember when I was a little kid?”

“Show me,” I tell her, trying to ignore the fluttering of my heart and the tingling of fear in my fingers. I’m not sure why I feel scared of Ian. I should be happy. But it’s been two years, two years without him knowing us, and now he’s back, and I’ve just had a child, another man’s child.

I stand and set the sleeping baby in the bassinet, covering him with an extra blanket. Lina takes my hand leading me to the room that used to be my office. Now there is a single bed, a dresser with a small framed picture. When I get closer I see it is one of our family pictures from years ago with Ian, me, and Catalina when she was three.

She takes me out to the porch, where I stop. She doesn’t need to take me any farther. I can see him from here. Ian, tall and pale. His blonde hair is sticking out from under his winter cap. Elvis is talking to him, pointing at the barns and the fields. He must be giving him a tour of the Pasture. I see Ian notice us standing on the porch. Even though he is far across the lawn I can see it clear as day when he winks at me.

--

I don’t know what Crane is planning with this move. But until Morris dies I have no other choice than to play along. I have to follow orders. The orders of the Entities, until I become one.

I am sick to death of this game.

I sit here rocking Adam’s child, listening to Lina sing to him, knowing that I will never see Adam again. I know that he is dead. Now I must go on with Ian. After all, he was given back to me. Crane still doesn’t seem to understand that people aren’t so easily replaceable.

I have no choice but to play along if I ever intend to get control over my life again. Maybe if I take Morris’s position as an Entity, I might be able to change something and stop all of this.

What happens outside the

Phoenix District walls,

Stays outside the

Phoenix District walls.

epilogue

Adam

We have guns, twenty Volker, and Crane. I can’t think of a worse mix for a mission outside the walls. At least the Volker will listen to me. I’m hoping no one will listen to him.

He stares at my back. He’s been staring for hours. I would like to suggest he go to one of the sleeping cars. But the train is packed. The cars weren’t designed to hold twenty men. We left the cargo cars back in Phoenix. Alexander suggested that, so we could go faster. Now my men sit on the floor and the beds of the sleeping car.

He looks almost normal today. Like a normal person. He’s not wearing a suit or a tie. He’s wearing Volker training uniform, black boots, black cargo pants, black undershirt, knit cap, and black coat. His orange hair is hidden under the cap. He looks eerily normal.

“First stop is a pharmacy outside of Fort Wayne, Indiana,” Crane tells me.

“A hospital pharmacy?”

“No. Pharmaceutical company.”

“Thought we were sticking to hospitals?”

“There’s a few we might try. But everyone goes to the hospitals for supplies, they don’t think of the pharmaceutical companies.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I just know.”

He stands and moves next to me.

“You didn’t have to come,” I tell him. “I could have handled this mission myself.”

“I needed to come.”

I stare straight ahead. The Volker speak quietly to themselves. This is the first time outside the walls for all of them and for Crane.

Miles pass. The day carries on. Crane stands next to me. He’s still. So still I’m concerned that he may be sleeping on his feet. The sun reaches directly over us as we reach the frozen flats of Ohio.

Crane turns to me. And in his quietest voice he asks, “What would you do if she died?”

I try not to stiffen at the question. “She’s not going to die.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I will find what she needs. I’ll search the entire country for the magnesium and bring it to Hanford and back to her.”

“Women die in childbirth all the time. They died before modern medicine. They died with modern medicine. You might run out of time. So what will you do if she dies, Colonel Waters?”

“She’s not going to die.”

He smiles. That same smile he gives Andie. The one she hates. I hate.

--

Fort Wayne was a bust. The pharmacy was located on the outskirts of the city and it was trashed. It seems the city was a target for one of the missiles, just like most cities were. During the two-mile trek we ran into a few Survivors. Not as many as in Tonopah. Just a few. And they hid from us. I wasn’t expecting to find many Survivors but like that plumber, Garrett, told us in Wolf Creek, they are out here. Gangs and swarms trying to survive.

It seems the winter has sent the Survivors to the South. Where it’s warm. It’s cold as hell here.

I have five men on Crane. I tried to get him to stay with the train but he was adamant about going with us. He did surprisingly well. He was quiet, took orders, kept out of trouble. He said he knew how to use the Volker issued pistols. I didn’t want to give him one, but I had to, just in case.

“Have you decided what you will do if she dies?” Crane asks me as I start the train and head for the next stop.

“She’s not going to die.”

“We haven’t found the medicine that she needs.”

“There are more stops.”

“Yes, there are. There’s a hospital in Normal, Indiana.”

“How are you choosing these locations?”

“I have my ways.”

He pulls a phone out of his pocket. The touch screen lights up with the image of a map.

“Thought those were a thing of the past?” I ask him.

“We can’t very well send society into the dark ages. And we need to communicate with Hanford.”

He slides the phone into his inner jacket pocket and pats his chest.

“Are you doing this for her or the baby?” he asks.

“Does it matter?”

“It always matters.”

“There’s no good answer to that question.”

“Ah, but it is a question that should be asked. Are you risking your life to save her or the child in her womb? Which do you value more? Which drives you to succeed in this mission?”

“I don’t value one more than the other.”

“So the same then.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t need to believe me. You gave me a mission to complete and I’m doing it.”

He smiles.

--

There are more Survivors here. I leave three men to guard the train. Two men are on Crane as we head for the hospital. There are Survivors on the streets. They watch as we run for the Hospital. Some run away. Others huddle behind garbage cans, buildings, and abandoned cars.

The hospital, or The Regional Medical Center, in Normal is intact. A small, single-story building. I lead the men to the front door. The glass is already broken out of the frame. We enter the building in pairs, pausing, searching for signs of trouble. The building seems empty. We follow the signs to the pharmacy.

Men guard the door as we search for the magnesium. It looks like someone has been here already. Scanning the rows of medications I can see the pain pills are gone, and the antibiotics. Crane searches a refrigerator. The remaining Volker explore the room with us.

“I’ve got something,” one of the men yells.

Crane walks towards him. The Volker holds a brown glass bottle. I head towards them.

“Is is enough?” I ask trying to hide the hopefulness in my voice.

Crane holds the glass bottle up to the light that shines in the windows.

It’s less than half-full.

“It’s not enough, but we’ll take this.” He looks at me.

“Head out.” I tell the men.

On the train the men rest. Most of them are doubled up in the sleeping car rooms. A few others lay on the floor of the engine car.

It’s night.

“Have you decided what you will do if she dies?” Crane asks me in the moonlit dark.

“Would you stop asking me the same question,” I tell him.

“I need your answer.”

“I gave you one. I don’t value the baby more than Andie. Or Andie more than the baby.”

“Yes. You told me in the most appeasing manner that you don’t value one more than the other.”

“And that doesn’t satisfy you?”

“No.”

“Well it should. Why are you even here, Crane? I could have brought five less men with me. I could have risked five less lives on this mission if I didn’t have you here.”

“I needed answers.”

“I gave them to you.”

“No, you haven’t. But you will give them to me.”

“I am doing this to save them both. I don’t value one more than the other. Where’s the next stop?”

“Independence, Missouri. Hanford will meet us. There is a major compounding facility in Independence.” He pulls out the phone and types something. “So, Colonel Waters, have you decided what you will do if she dies?”

“No,” I tell him.

“You know in some cultures, when it comes down to choosing between their spouse and their children, they always choose their spouse. Do you know what their reasoning is?”

“No.”

“Because they can always make more children. But they will never be able to replace their husband or wife.”

“Sounds like bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.”

“You don’t tell many truths.”

“Would you like to hear a story?” he asks, his tone lightening.

“No.” I just want the talking to stop.

“Good. Once upon a time there was a young boy and he had parents who were very poor. Now, they shouldn’t have been so poor. After all, his mother was from a wealthy family but she chose a man from the wrong side of the tracks. You know how they say that? The wrong side of the tracks. So they were happy in their poor bliss, then they had a baby, a boy. And the boy was loved and grew. It didn’t matter if he didn’t have shoes or clothes that fit well or a full stomach every night. He was loved and that was all that mattered. But one day this boy’s father became ill. And you know how the poor and proud are, they don’t seek medical treatment. So the father was ill for years. One day when the father was so sick he was unable to get out of bed the mother broke down and called the ambulance. Do you know what the dispatcher told this poor woman who was watching her husband die?”

“No.”

“She was told that due to the high volume of calls there was an hour wait. Back in their time ambulance calls were reserved for emergencies but it turned into people calling for stubbed toes, fevers, sprained ankles, all with hopes to see the doctor. Because, well, if you walked into the emergency room there was hours worth of waiting to do. But if you called the ambulance you got right in. So this mother waited, and she and her son watched the father die. The ambulance showed up to declare the death and call the hearse. Now there was a mother and a son. A mother so poor and alone that she felt she had no choice but to go back to her rich family. And so she went. After a short period of time she was introduced to an older man with a graying beard and a paunch belly. That older man had money and he needed a wife to spend it on. Not so much a child.” Crane holds his finger up. “A wife. But this young wife came with a child and sometimes that boy would get into trouble, and you know what that new father would say? ‘He’s just a bad kid, ingrained in his genes, can’t get it out.’ You know what that mother did? She agreed with her new husband. ‘To please him,’ she would say on the nights that she found her son crying in his room. Oh how she loved her son, but she had to side with the new father because he had the money, he could keep them healthy and fed and warm. He could give them a future. So she smiled for her new husband but most nights she could be found drowning her tears in a glass of wine. And that boy wasn’t really bad. He was smart and he was special and he missed his dead father.

“One day when he was at school, his Aunt Edith came to pick him up. It was strange because he only saw his Aunt Edith once a year at Christmas time. Well his Aunt Edith wore a look upon her face, one that can only be construed as the bearer of bad news. Aunt Edith lead that boy away and told him that his mother and new step-father were dead, both of them, in an apparent murder-suicide. Now, there was no indication that this boy’s parents were troubled, just that they had a troubled son. Either way, oh how a child’s life can change.

“The family riches were placed in a trust and the boy was sent to live with distant relatives, the only ones who would take a child with such a reputation. They were backwoods-country-poor. They had two teeth between them and the same number of brain cells. But that boy lived with them. And they held onto him good because they got a paycheck each week to go towards the boys expenses. But you know what happens with that money. It goes to beer, pizza, cigarettes. So when that boy was old enough, he tested out of school and he went to college. The scholarships kept him afloat until he got the trust fund money. And that was the history of the poor boy from Rochester.”

He stops, finally, looking at me expectantly.

“That’s a sad story,” I tell him.

“Not sad. Poignant maybe. You see, Colonel Waters, you can tell a lot about a person by the choices they make when it comes to the ones they love, their children. And when a loved one dies sometimes people do things that they wouldn’t normally do. But it’s like flipping a coin. They become stronger or they become weak. They hold onto the ones that remain or they shun everyone because they cannot bear to be reminded of that long lost person they loved so much. So I wonder who will you become if she dies?”

“In case you forgot I already lost my family. They died in a car accident.”

“Ah, Colonel Waters, but this is so much different. You loved them but it was a different love. No one ever gets over losing a child or the love of their life, their soul-mate.”

“You think she is my soul-mate?” The idea gnaws at me.

“She is something special to you.”

“You’re wrong. I’m just doing my job. We ended it on the way home from the tour. We both agreed. It’s over.”

I had to end it. I remember what I did to her. The bruises on her arm from Tonopah. I am not good for her, the things they trained me to do. I was hoping something could change, that I could have a normal life.  But it was too easy for me to be that person again. It was too easy for me to kill that bastard in Galena. It was too easy to remember everything as soon as I saw that Chinook.

“So you chose the unborn child then?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” I can’t choose either of them. I can do this one last thing, get the medicine for Andie. “Maybe you should get some rest. We will be to Independence by morning.”

“Perhaps that is a good idea. Wake me up when you need a break.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Hmm, why’s that?”

“I’ll sleep when I get the medication back to Andie.”

Crane smiles.

--

Seeing the signs for Independence, I slow the train.

Crane is passing out rations to the Volker. Bottles of water and bread.

He offers me some. I shake my head. He returns the leftovers to the bin we brought containing the food. He goes to a bag near his seat and takes out a bottle of water and crackers. He takes a separate bottle of water out and holds it out to me. This time I take it from him.

“How far to the hospital?” I ask him.

“It’s not far from here, a few miles. But I suggest we wait for Hanford to show up.” He pulls the phone out of his pocket and types something. “Backup might be needed here.”

I can’t stand in this train car with him any longer and listen to his banter. “Let’s just get this done. Tell them to meet us there.”

“I strongly recommend backup,” Crane tells me.

“Are you in charge of this mission, Crane? You put me in charge for a reason. I am tired of wasting time.”

“If you insist.”

--

The hospital pharmacy is intact. The door still locked. I kick it open. The movement stirring the thick layer of dust on the countertops. The shelves are still as stocked as the day the bombs dropped.

“How is it, Crane,” I ask, “that you bring us to the only pharmacy in the country that hasn’t been ravaged by the Survivors?”

“Luck, I guess,” he replies.

I don’t believe it.

Crane and I walk to the shelves. It’s in alphabetical order. We scan the shelves.

“Ah!” Crane exclaims reaching forward. “Jackpot!”

He takes the bag off his shoulder and places the three full bottles of powdered magnesium sulfate into his pack.

I start to feel that hopefulness that I feel only when a mission is almost complete. We’ve found the medication now we just have to get it to Hanford so they can prepare it. Then back to Phoenix.

We exit the pharmacy. Medication secured, ready to leave this place. I notice the men ahead of me stop. I look down the hallway and see why.

Survivors. An ambush. They have weapons. Guns. More than we have. I can easily see that we are outnumbered. They don’t give us a chance to say anything or to move. They raise their guns and fire.

“Retreat!” I holler to the men closest to me.

I grab Crane’s jacket and drag him down the hallway with me. As we round the corner the gunfire has stopped. Our backs are against the wall as we retreat down the empty hallway.

“The roof,” Crane suggests.

“No, we’ll just be trapped there.”

“Hanford is almost here. They have a helicopter.”

I look to the remaining men. We’ve lost twelve already. They’re injured. Panicked. I have to get them out of here.

Crane pulls the phone out of his pocket. I hear it vibrate in his hand.

“They’re less than ten minutes out,” he tells me.

He’s calm, too calm for the situation we are in right now.

“Where’s the stairwell?” I ask him.

I look to the remaining men. They’re calm. Too calm.

“Around the corner.”

“Let’s go.” I signal the men.

We rise and run. I push against the stairwell door and wait as the men run through.

“To the roof.”

We run up the stairs.

“You still haven’t told me, Colonel Waters,” Crane starts, he’s barely out of breath, taking two steps at a time. “You haven’t told me what you will do if she dies.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“We have plans for her,” he tells me as though he’s telling a secret.

“Seems you have a plan for everything,” I reply.

My eyes are on the stairs and my men.

“In time she will become something more, more important to the Districts.”

“I don’t need to hear your bullshit stories right now, Crane.” I turn around, seeing the men panting behind us as we run up the stairs. I can hear the Survivors yelling from below us. The metal doors bang against the walls of the stairwell as they follow us. “I had to waste Volker to protect you,” I tell Crane. “We’ve lost twelve already. You shouldn't have come. I could done this myself.”

“I know. I have every confidence in you.”

“Then why did you come?”

We reach the last flight.

“We needed to talk. And this is the only way I could get out from under the golden thumb of the Entities.”

“What do you want to talk about?” I shove the rooftop door open.

The remaining eight men run through.

“Secure the door,” I instruct them. “Hanford is on their way.”

“We have plans for you, Colonel Waters,” Crane says from behind me.

“Who’s we?” I walk to the ledge of the hospital roof and look down. There’s a swarm of Survivors looking to the rooftop. They have trucks, guns. I turn back to Crane.

“Me and them.”

He points to the door. It bulges with the force of the Survivors trying to get through. I can hear the beating of the Hanford helicopter. It’s approaching fast.

Crane adjusts the pack with the medication over his shoulder.

“You were on a mission before. A mission for the President. To find out who the Entities are, to find out who’s involved.”

“You knew about that?”

“I know about a lot. Much more than you would expect.”

The helicopter hovers to the side of the building, the door slides open and I see the familiar faces from Hanford. I point for the men to get in the helicopter. Without question they leap over the side of the hospital roof into the open helicopter door. When they are to safety I turn to Crane, expecting him to go. But he just stands next to me.

“I would like to congratulate you.”

“For what?”

“For finding out the truth. Well, you’re about to find out. Just remember, you have Andromeda to thank for this. She was told not to tell anyone about the Funding Entities. You know too much. You can’t go back.”

In an instant I know what he’s telling me. “Fuck you. I’ll kill you,” I yell to him over the beating of the helicopter blades.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He steps onto the rooftop ledge, ready to leap into the open helicopter doors and raises his gun.

He shoots. Point blank into my chest.

The Phoenix Project Book III

Revelation

chapter one

He was given back to me. I didn’t have to choose this time. My whole family was returned. We are back to being a complete unit. All it cost was Adam’s life.

Now, he is down the hall in the small room I used for an office, sleeping in his bed. A single bed. Alone. Not where a married man usually sleeps. Not next to his wife as he should be.

I stretch my hand out, feeling the cool sheets of the empty half of the bed. I can hear the steady, even breaths of Raven sleeping in the crib that’s pushed against the far wall. They’re interrupted by the grinding squeak of the old spring mattress Ian sleeps on. Pulling my arm back, clutching it close to my body, I know he’s not asleep. I know this for certain because these are the hours when he’s more ghost-like than ever. I pull the sheets tighter around myself and hold my breath.

It is hard falling in love with a ghost.

His mattress springs grind again, followed by the soft thudding of his feet on the hardwood floors. I know what comes next: the soft noise of his door opening further, his footsteps in the hallway. He stops outside my open door. Just like every night.

I could close the door, but I like to be able to hear what’s going on in the house. I want to be ready, the first to hear if there is a problem so I can react. But nothing happens here at the Pasture. Except for Ian waking each night, walking the hall, and stopping at my door.

If there were a light on, his shadow might stretch into the room where I sleep. But being the middle of the night, it is pitch black here. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face if I tried. I can hear him though. He stops and holds his breath, just like I hold mine. I could speak. I could tell him to come here and talk to me. But I’m not ready for him. Not yet. Not feeling this mixture of emotions bombarding me at every second. Not knowing that Adam died to save us and his son sleeps just feet from me.

It’s all too fresh.

Ian gives up, just like he has each night since he came back, his footsteps quiet as he walks down the hallway. What comes next is the same each night: he flicks on the kitchen light and shadows stretch down the hall, the dull light illuminating a portion of my room. He opens the refrigerator door. He closes the refrigerator door. He opens a cupboard. He closes the cupboard. He paces the kitchen, the floor creaking as he does. Then, he stops. And this is where he becomes a true ghost, slipping out of our lives each night almost as soundlessly as he did years ago when the Funding Entities took over. He walks across the kitchen to the hallway and out the front door. He’s been doing this since he arrived.

Holding my breath, I wait to hear the soft click of the lock as he closes the door. Every night this is how it happens. This is the moment in which he leaves me just like I left him. The only difference is he comes back each morning. He doesn’t abandon me for years. I’m not sure where he goes or what he does. All I know is that I fall asleep and in the morning he walks down the hall and into the kitchen for breakfast as though he spent the night in his single bed, sleeping.

Whatever he does, wherever he goes, he somehow gets enough sleep to continue on with his duty of running the nuclear reactor. Crane wouldn’t take kindly to his home life negatively impacting his work. After all, the reactor keeps the District safe, providing the fence with enough electricity to roast a chicken in thirty seconds. I’m sure if Crane caught wind of Ian functioning poorly he’d take him away again. He would hide Ian back in whatever hole he had him in before and we’d never see him again. And since I am not allowed to raise fatherless children, I’d have to choose someone else. These are the rules described in the District Manifesto. These are the demands of the Phoenix District Entities.

Unsure of what keeps Ian awake at night, I do know that I can finally sleep. The nightmares stopped the day Crane told me Adam died. When his soul left the earth he must have taken them with him, all the dark, horrid images. I never had another one. I have never awoken in the still of the night covered in sweat, my heart racing, screaming things I can’t remember. That’s all done with. Now, I close my eyes at night and open them in the morning. There’s nothing in between. No nightmares, no dreams, nothing. Just sleep and rest and peace.

Actually, I take that back. There is no peace while Burton Crane is still alive. This I know for certain, just as I know it’s only a matter of time before he requests that I finish my tasks in Florida.

--

As the morning sun rises outside, I sit in a rocking chair feeding Raven. My eyes wander the room to the simple green bedspread, the whitewash walls, the thin white curtains hanging at each window, eventually stopping at the canvas bag at the foot of the bed. Even with all the sleep I still haven’t found the energy to unpack my suitcase from that trip. The tour, the moments when it became glaringly clear that Crane had bigger plans for me and much less for my daughter. I stare at the suitcase. Perhaps it has nothing to do with energy and more to do with my emotions. It sits at the foot of my bed nothing more than a canvas headstone.

I look at Raven in my arms. My son. Adam’s son. The son he never met and will never meet. Adam’s dead.

Setting down Raven would free my arms and I could finally unpack. He probably won’t even wake up and even if he does, he won’t make a sound. He hasn’t cried, he hasn’t cooed. He has never made a sound since the day he was born.

Finally deciding to do something about the suitcase, I stand and set him in the bassinet. As I wrap his swaddling blanket a little tighter, he stirs but doesn’t open his eyes.

Moving to the foot of the bed and kneeling down, I tip the suitcase on its side. My hands tremble. Taking a clear breath and steadying my fingers, I unzip the suitcase. There’s an assortment of clothes. Black slacks, dark colored blouses, a light sweater. My clothes. The same clothes I always wear. But there’s something else. Something I wasn’t prepared for. I can smell it before I see it. Lying on the top of my things is a T-shirt, a black T-shirt, Adam’s T-shirt.

Never has a piece of cloth intimidated me so.

I fearfully stare at it, knowing what’s going to happen if I touch it or smell it for more than just a slight whiff. I know how my brain will react, how it will remember. The olfactory receptors are part of the limbic system, and if I smell that shirt, that emotional part of my brain, the amygdala, it’s going to remember. It’s going to remember everything great and everything bad and every moment I ever had with him.

The amygdala is not my friend.

I’ve had to alter it in the Residents, shrink it down to the point where it can no longer think for itself, to the point where it will trust everyone and do what it’s told. I’ve engineered it to curtail their emotions, but that’s not what’s going to happen to me. I am Sovereign. My amygdala is intact, fully operational, fully capable of absorbing all of those neurotransmitters that are going to flood my brain as soon as I take a deep breath of that shirt that smells just like him.

The amygdala is definitely not my friend. It is nothing more than a drug dealer and I am about to take my first addictive hit.

In a desperate move, I reach for the shirt, moving faster than I have in weeks and I press it to my face, breathing in deep. The reaction is instantaneous. The breath pushes from my chest, my heart shudders, my head goes fuzzy. Oh God, they bombard me in one great wave: memories.

The rational part of my brain knows this isn’t real, but when I open my eyes, it’s almost as if he’s standing in front of me. His image wavers. His hair is dark, his skin tanned, his eyes still the same pale blue. His hands are in his pockets and he seems to rock back on his heels. This is not real, just a wavering memory of him, his ghost. He’s dead. Even though I know this, I still want him to kneel down next to me and wrap his arms around me.

“Adam?” I whisper. His image seems to flutter and fade. I press the shirt to my face and breathe in deep. When I open my eyes, he’s still there, his image a little brighter, a little stronger. “Adam?” I whisper again, wanting him to respond, wanting him to say something to me even though I know he’s not real. Even though I remember what he told me on that train.

“This was a mistake. It’s over,” he says to me.

Yes, it’s over. The memory before me seems to falter and fade and disappear. The hope that once filled my chest at seeing his memory is now replaced with an empty void. One cannot have an affair with a ghost. Yet, it seems I am married to a ghost most days.

“Andie?” I hear Ian’s voice in the hallway.

I choke out a fresh breath and shove the shirt back into the suitcase, hiding it under my clothes. There’s a knock on the bedroom door.

“Andie?” Ian asks.

“Come in.” My voice sounds strained.

Ian walks into the room, stopping when he notices Raven sleeping in the bassinet. “Hey,” he says, his voice hushed and completely nonchalant, as if we were just a normal married couple standing in a room together. He seems so tall in this old farmhouse.

“Hi.” I look away from him.

“Unpacking finally?” he asks, motioning to the suitcase.

With the faint lingering smell of Adam’s shirt and the memories still so fresh in my mind, I can barely look at Ian right now. “Yeah,” I respond, my eyes fixed on the floor.

“I thought I heard you talking to someone.” He gives me a worrisome gaze and looks around the room.

“Um, no.” I press my fingertips to my forehead, trying to force the image of Adam from my mind. “I was just…” Unable to think of a good excuse I trail off and never complete the sentence.

An awkward five heartbeats pass between us before Ian breaks the silence, “I’m headed to the barn.”

I nod. I don’t look up at him. I know what I’ll see if I do: the hopeful brown eyes, the creases around his mouth and locks of blonde hair falling across his forehead. I’ve become accustomed to this look upon his face and I can hear it in his voice right now. It’s the only thing about him that makes me believe that he is truly real and not a ghost; you can’t fake the concern that Ian exudes and there’s no way a ghost could fill a room up like he does.

“I’ll see you for dinner?” he asks.

“Okay.” I finally look up and force a smile. I don’t know why I smile, it doesn’t help the discomfort of our current situation.

“Okay.” He nods and closes the door as he leaves.

Staring at the lump of clothes in front of me, I try to control the urge to pull the shirt out again. My thoughts are interrupted by a voice outside my door as Ian’s footsteps echo down the hall. Sam. I can hear them talking. Just a quick conversation and it’s only a few moments before there is another knock on the door.

“Sis?” I hear Sam’s voice.

“Yeah?” I ask with a sigh.

He opens the door. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, Sam. I just… I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”

He brushes a brown lock of hair out of his eyes and fidgets with his clothes. They’re new, in the sense that Sam hasn’t worn them before. There are worn patterns in the thighs of his jeans and the button-down shirt sleeves seem a little too short on him.

“New clothes?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He smiles and presses his hand over the front of the blue shirt. “They finally found some hand-me-downs that fit me.”

“Good.”

Sam looks towards the bassinet where Raven sleeps and back to me, still kneeling on the floor in front of the open suitcase.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him as I stand and move away from the suitcase.

“Crane wants to see me,” he responds with a frown.

“And?”

“And I was hoping you would go with me.” He raises his eyebrows, his face turning hopeful.

“What does he need to see you for?” I busy myself with folding a basket of Raven’s laundry.

“He said it’s something about my training.”

“Why do you need me to go?” I ask.

Sam runs a hand across the back of his neck. “Truthfully, I thought you might like to get out of the house. You’ve been cooped up here for weeks.”

Six weeks actually. I’ve been here for six weeks and I haven’t left, not once. Dr. Akiyama, the District physician, has stopped in to check on me and the baby a few times, but I’ve never left.

Glancing around the room, my eyes stop on the suitcase. I am tired of being here. I am tired of sitting in this rocking chair and thinking about Adam’s death. Part of me wants to hate him for not waiting for Hanford to show up and assist them. Maybe if he had, if he had waited for backup instead of rushing into that building, maybe he’d still be alive today. He could meet his son and I’d have more than just an old T-shirt to remind me of him. I hate him for risking his life to save mine. I just wish I could stop thinking about him.

Suddenly I feel claustrophobic. Maybe getting out of here is a good idea. “Sure Sam, just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“Meet you out front.” He closes the door and I listen to his footsteps echo down the hall.

Looking at the clock, I find that it’s nearly noon. I definitely have enough time to make it back before Lina gets done with her schooling. I head for my closet to find something to wear.

When I am dressed, I glance at myself in the mirror. I still look the same even after everything that’s happened. Green eyes, pale skin, brown curly hair. Hair that’s too long. Almost three years without a haircut has allowed it to grow down to the middle of my back, almost to my waist. It’s too heavy, too tangled, and I don’t want to deal with it when summer comes around. I twist it into a bun, telling myself to ask Blithe, or Ms. Black as the children know her, if she can cut it for me.

I give up with the mirror and take a khaki jacket from my closet, putting it on before wrapping Raven in an extra blanket and layering two hats on his head. I carry him into the living room where Sam stands.

“Bringing the baby?” Sam asks.

“Yeah.” I look longingly out the window. It’s still snowing. Thankfully, it’s not as bad as last year when the drifts reached the second story of the house. That was when the ocean was seeded with iron by a rogue scientist-I stop that memory. I know where it leads, remembering what we did out there on the Tour. I don’t want to remember that.

“The fresh air is good for him,” I tell Sam.

“I’ll go get the truck so you don’t have to walk across the yard in this.”

As Sam steps out, cold wind and snow blows into the house before he closes the door. Sam jogs to the SUV and drives it to the front of the house. I open the door and walk out onto the porch as Sam pulls up. When I open the passenger, door he looks at me then the baby.

“What?” I ask.

“Aren’t we supposed to use a car seat or something?”

“I don’t even know if those exist anymore.” I sit in the passenger seat with Raven on my lap. “Just drive slow,” I tell Sam as I buckle in and tuck Raven under the chest belt.

Sam drives down the ice-encrusted driveway, the heavy SUV breaking the thin ice and crunching the gravel of the driveway. There was a time when leaving the enclosure of the Pasture brought on a fear that I could barely control. Now it’s different. I no longer fear Crane, or the Entities, or their plan here. I look forward to leaving the seclusion of the Pasture, for this moment at least.

As Sam drives down the long country roads that lead into town, he slows to a crawl when he comes across a snow-drift covering the road.

“Wish they’d run the plows,” he says as he accelerates through almost a foot of snow. The tires of the SUV grip and push us through.

“Why don’t they?” I ask him.

“Fuel is low. And we’re the only ones out here. Crane doesn’t see it as an acceptable use of the fuel.”

“Figures.”

I watch out the window as he pulls into town. It’s the same. Just like a Rockwell painting, as Adam had described it. The houses are all painted white. Some have been demolished to make room for community gardens and greenhouses. Sam pulls up behind a bus. It stops at the corner. Residents unload. Some walk to the nearby houses while others, already equipped with shovels, begin shoveling the sidewalks. The factions are working just as diligently as they have always been. Some probably more, since Crane manufactured the vectors to alter their genetics and shrink their amygdalae. Their faces look placid-almost happy-as they work in the blustering snow. Just like Crane wants them to.

The bus turns the corner. Sam accelerates. We pass more houses, an empty gas station, the grocery store where the Sovereign can go to collect their rations, an old fast-food restaurant, an empty hotel, a few bars, the old town cinema with movie posters still hanging from before the Reformation. They’re empty. All of those buildings where people used to get together to eat or celebrate; they’re empty and dusty and will probably never be filled again.

Sam takes the long way to Headquarters, avoiding the chemistry building where Crane once held me and Lina. He knows I don’t like that place. He pulls up to the front of Headquarters. The Phoenix District flag whips in the harsh wind that blows in from the lake. Someone should tell them to take it down or it won’t last. The brutal lakeside storms will ruin it.

There are Volker guards standing just inside the entrance. They hold the doors open as we walk through. I walk beside Sam as we take the familiar path to Crane’s office. It’s in the middle of the building now. He cleared the entire third floor of its furnishings.

As we step off the elevator there are tables with maps, stacks of papers, and a desk where he sits behind a computer.

“Ah, Andromeda,” he begins, failing to greet Sam. “So good to see you outside the walls of the Pasture.” He looks at Raven in my arms. “The good Doctor tells me the baby is well.” I nod at him. “And you’ve fully recovered from your illness?”

“Yes.” I may have recovered from being sick, but I’m not sure about recovering from causing two deaths. Because that’s what I did. I shot a man and then I caused Adam’s death. If it weren’t for me, he would have never gone into that building without assistance from Hanford.

Now Crane stands before me, wearing his usual suit. Today it’s a yellow tie with dark blue dots, a chipper choice considering the weather outside. His orange hair has been neatly trimmed closer to his head so he looks less like a clown and more like a leader. He looks fully rested, barely a wrinkle around his eye. He does not display the worrisome face of some leaders, like when President Berkley had to do that press conference and announce the dire straits of our country nearly six years ago. It seemed Berkley’s hair grew a shade grayer with each question from the press. That was before the Reformation. Crane doesn’t even resemble a person who just lost his best Volker and nearly lost the District Matchmaker. He resembles a person who thinks he’s fully in control, one with a plan.

I dislike Crane’s arrogance very much.

Just as I am reminding myself how much I dislike him, his eyes seem to soften a bit as though his heart just started beating, as though he might be a real human with an ounce of compassion. And then he turns to Sam. “Thank you for meeting me, Sam.” Crane reaches out and gives Sam a hearty handshake. “Let us sit.” He guides Sam to a set of plush chairs near the window.

It’s strange seeing them walk side-by-side, with Sam towering over Crane. They ignore me now and I don’t mind. Rubbing Raven’s back as he sleeps, I wander the large room, stopping at each table and looking at the maps he has set out. He has one of our county, complete with the fence; the occupied and unoccupied buildings are all marked. The roads that are in use are marked with a red line and the roads that have been left in disrepair marked in black. It seems he knows every inch of this town.

I stop and focus on Crane’s conversation with Sam.

“Your test scores are very high in all areas of focus,” Crane tells him.

“Yes,” Sam replies. “Ms. Black told me this also.”

“You had plans to join the air force before you were brought here?”

“Yes.”

I hear rustling and turn to see Crane has a handful of papers. He flips through them, stopping on a few pages to read. “Very well then, I am assigning you to Volker training,” Crane tells him.

I hold my breath. The last thing I want Sam training for is to be a Volker. I don’t want him responsible for defending the District, just like I didn’t want him responsible for defending our country when he tried to join the air force.

Making a swift walk to where they are conversing, I interrupt. “I don’t want him training for Volker,” I tell Crane.

“Why, Andromeda.” Crane smiles as he focuses on me. “Did you ever once ask Sam what he wanted to do or what training he prefers?”

“No,” I tell him.

“Perhaps you should.” Crane turns expectantly to Sam.

“I chose this, Andie,” Sam tells me. “Actually… I requested it.”

“What? Sam, don’t do this. You don’t know what you’re getting into. You don’t know what you will be responsible for.”

“Yes,” he tells me. “Yes, I do, Andie. I will be responsible for looking after the District and the Sovereign. For keeping the people I love safe. Just let me do this without an argument.”

“And if there is ever a war or a breach at the gates you will be required to risk your life to save this place. I don’t want that, Sam. I want better for you.” I turn to Crane. “I don’t want him finding the same fate as the last Volker Sovereign.” They both know what I mean. I don’t want Sam to die just like Adam did.

“You are no longer speaking about your brother’s future,” Crane notes the change in topic. He tips his head and smiles. He doesn’t bother to redirect me back to the original issue.

I guess it’s about time I confronted him about what happened.

“I don’t understand why you took everyone out there to search for the medication,” I tell Crane.

Sam stands.

“We had to,” Crane replies, standing also.

“It doesn’t make sense, Crane. You could have let nature take its course. After all, isn’t that what you’re trying to do here? You’re letting Morris die. You restrict medications for the other Sovereign and Residents. Why was I the exception?”

“We had to.” His face downturns, as though he regrets the trip or something about it.

“I don’t believe you. You had to risk the lives of twenty Volker, the life of the Volker Sovereign. How many did you lose? Fifteen?”

“And it was worth it.”

“My life was not worth the lives of fifteen other people, Crane.” I point at Sam. “What if next time it’s him?”

“Would you rather have the alternative? You would have preferred your children to go on with their lives without their mother?”

I stop, my heart screaming at the thought of dying and my children never knowing any more of me.

“Yes, you see, Andromeda,” Crane continues, “you were worth the risk. You may not understand this now, but in time you shall.”

“And now what?” I ask him, shifting the sleeping baby in my arms.

“Now you move on. You have work to do and so does your brother.”

“I’m not ready to move on,” I tell him with an unexpected surge of honesty. I immediately wish I had said nothing.

For some reason Crane seems kinder than he used to be. Ever since he informed me of Adam’s death, it’s like he’s been trying to make up for it. He hasn’t threatened to take my children, he hasn’t threatened to take Ian back, and he hasn’t pushed me to get back to work with the pairings or reminded me of my future as an Entity. Perhaps he does have a drop of humanity left in him.

Crane tips his head in the opposite direction, like a robot changing its course. “Very well then, you may go,” he dismisses us. “You will commence Volker training in the morning,” he tells Sam as we leave.

I stop and turn towards Crane. “You should take that flag down in this weather. You know it’s not going to last long with the wind and snow beating on it.”

A pale red eyebrow rises. “That flag will never be lowered.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because I don’t want anyone in this District to forget who is in charge.”

Newlyweds for fourteen weeks
and counting…

chapter two

“Hello, Andie, how are things today?” Elvis asks, looking at Raven.

“Fine,” I tell him.

“You sure?” Elvis eyes me suspiciously.

I think I am. I’ve never felt more calm and in control. So I must be fine. It’s the only word I can think of to describe how I feel right now. Lina and Raven are safe. And Ian has been released to me. For fourteen weeks he’s been a stranger in the house. Or maybe I’ve forgotten how he used to be. How he used to act. I’m sure I’m not like he remembers either.

“Never felt better,” I tell Elvis, forcing a determined tone to my voice.

I look away from him and pull Raven’s knit cap over his ears. It’s blue with brown stripes. Someone made it for him, along with some of his other clothes. I’m not sure who. They just seem to show up every few weeks. Clothes, blankets, there was even one of those soft baby brushes. When I pulled it out of the bag, I brushed his dark baby-fine hair; parting it on the side, tucking the longer pieces behind his ears. He looked like a little man. He looked just like his father.

Elvis looks across the courtyard from which I’ve just walked. It’s cold, the ground frozen and covered with a layer of hard-packed snow. “Isn’t it too cold to have a baby out here?” Elvis asks me.

“Fresh air, it’s good for him.”

“Hmm.” Elvis scratches his ear.

I’ve been working up the courage to ask Elvis this question. Here goes nothing. “I want a gravestone.”

His eyes widen a bit at my request. “For what?” he asks.

“For Adam.”

“We don’t have a body.”

“I don’t care. I want a gravestone. It’s been fourteen weeks since he died. Normal people would have had a service months ago. Normal people bury their dead and mourn,” I say.

Elvis nods his head as though he agrees. “Where?”

“Out near the water tower, I think.”

He presses his lips together. He’s going to tell me no.

“Elvis, just do it.”

After a long period of silence, he answers, “Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t call me ma’am.” As a passive threat, I mutter to him, “I know who you are.” He is an Entity and soon-once Morris dies-I will join him and Crane and Alexander and whoever else is part of that group.

He nods and turns to open the door to his office.

“Elvis.” I stop him. “There’s one more thing.”

“That is?”

“I want my own car.” Elvis has been hiding his keys from me for months, ever since I took his SUV on tattooing day, and I dislike not having the freedom to go where I want when I want.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Make me happy, Elvis. Either share your keys or get me my own.”

He adjusts the brim of his hat. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” I walk away, baby in tow, two Guardians following me. I’m not sure where I want to go or what I want to do. I just need to stretch my legs, to try and quell the unease in my gut from finally telling Elvis what I want. I feel Raven stir in my arms and, looking down, I see his eyes open.

“Want to meet the animals?” I ask him.

He blinks and sighs as though I’ve bored him. What more could I expect from a three month old baby?

Walking through the barn, I introduce Raven to the cows, the horses, the alpacas, the ponies, the chickens, the geese, and the handful of Guardians that roam the barn and the pens that we are walking by. This is enough to lull him into a deep sleep and I’m sure he has listened to none of my rambling. Soon I become bored with myself. Finding I have walked a full circle around the barn, I decide to make my way home.

I set Raven in his crib and turning around in the room, I stop when my eyes fall upon my dresser.

Damn you, amygdala.

As soon as I take that first step I know what I am about to do is wrong. But the memories propel me forward, they tell me to open that drawer, to lift up my old shirts and pull out the one that doesn’t belong. The black one that smells just like Adam.

I sit on the edge of my bed, holding the shirt in my hands, rubbing my fingers over the soft fabric. This is so wrong. I shouldn’t do this, not when I can’t even hold a conversation with my husband. Still, I close my eyes and press the shirt to my face, taking a deep breath in.

In this moment I realize fully that I am an addict. All I need are the jittery hands and the sunken eyes and the look of despair to be complete. Even with the wrongness of this moment, I get to remember him, if only for a few minutes. I press my eyes harder together, letting his image form in my mind. It wavers and wanes. He gives a short smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, before disappearing.

I open my eyes and look at the shirt in my hands. The guilt I’m now feeling is as fresh as the newly fallen snow. Cold, crisp, and heavy. I need to stop this. Folding the shirt into a small square, I walk it back to the dresser and hide it behind my clothes. Just as I’m closing the drawer, I hear the rapid running of small feet. Lina bursts in the bedroom, followed by Astrid and Stevie.

“Mom!” Lina starts as Stevie trots to where Raven sleeps and presses her nose between the crib slats.

Mouthing, “Quiet,” I point at the crib, where Raven merely flutters his eyes open and then closes them again. Herding the girls out of the room and closing the door, I turn to find Lina ready to burst.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“The mare, she’s having her babies! Come watch with us.”

“Okay, okay.” Looking up and down the hall, my eyes fall on a sleeping Guardian. “Watch the baby,” I tell the Guardian. It rises, dwarfing Stevie in its size, lumbers to the bedroom door and lies down, almost silently, in front of the door. “Come on girls.” I take Lina and Astrid’s hands and head for the coat rack.

chapter three

Morris hasn’t been confined to the hospital. Yet. Instead, he has taken up his residence in one of the local Queen Anne historic homes. We sit in a walnut-paneled living room with an ornately carved fireplace. There’s a tin ceiling, beveled glass windows, and an alabaster chandelier. A small fire warms the room. It’s strange that he has a fire going, being almost spring now. But then, the weather hasn’t exactly been cooperating. We’ve had blizzards followed by seventy degree days. It seems the earth is confused as to what seasons belong where.

“Are you ready for your lesson today?” Morris asks between bouts of coughing.

“If I said no would it matter, Morris?”

“No,” he replies.

“Fine then. I’m ready.”

He looks at Raven sleeping in my lap. “No babysitters available today?”

“He’s a baby, Morris. He’s not going to disclose your secrets. What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Self-sufficiency,” he replies with a weak voice.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “Here? We are already self-sufficient.”

It’s been a few months since we returned from the tour with a small amount of scavenged supplies. Other than that, with the farms and local workers, the District has been independent.

He shakes his head slowly. “The other countries.” I wait as he takes a shaky breath, preparing himself for the lecture. “Remember what Crane told you? This is global. While you were gone, Canada was Reformed, as well as the South American countries.”

I remember about Canada; George Crossbender from the Hanford District told us it was the reason for flying us in the helicopter to Alaska. That, and I am quite certain it was the starting point for chipping away at Adam’s sanity.

He continues, “When this started, the Funding Entities built the Reformation on the idea that each country was to regain a sense of self-sufficiency. The loss of this is what some think helped with the downward spiral of civilization. People lost the knowledge to grow food and how to repair clothing with simple sewing techniques. Everything was imported; food, clothes, natural resources that already resided under our noses. And as each country developed their own main export, the other countries lost their ability to provide that resource for themselves. So we had food from the south, oil from the north and middle-east, mechanics and technologies from Asia. And when people could no longer buy what they needed, be it clothes or shoes or potatoes, they simply floundered without, unsure of what to do or where to start. And this is where the creation of the industrialized world went wrong. The new initiative: no trade, no swapping, no monetary exchanges. A District may bargain with another from their own continent, but never with another continent.”

“I don’t see how this would work, Morris. Self-sufficiency is hard enough to obtain let alone to have it happen overnight,” I say.

“The gears have been turning for a while now. A process has been set up, just like here. Hanford wasn’t built overnight, Andromeda. Each continent has its own District just like Hanford. Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia are slated for Reformation in the upcoming weeks.”

“You don’t think they’ll fight back, Morris? You don’t think people will see what’s going on over here and try to prevent it in the eastern countries?”

“They may, but the ones in power, the ones with the money and weapons, they are all on board. This is going to happen. This will happen. It’s already happened here with success. Failure is not an option.”

I think of the Residents, how they’ve worked to make the Phoenix District run as a well-oiled machine. There is order; everyone knows what is expected of them. And since I made that speech, the one to unite the District, to help gain the Resident’s trust, they’ve been weaned off their mind-numbing medications. They are a bit too grateful for being alive, for being allowed to reside within these walls of safety. Still, there are all those people who died in the bombings and who will die in these bombings.

“So who’s taking the responsibility for killing all those people?” I ask him. “The ones who die from the bombings? Who’s going to take on that guilt?”

Morris sighs and looks at his hands, his eyes widen slightly as though he could see the blood there. “We all will. Each Entity will live with this guilt. It will make them better.”

I think back to my life, before all this. We had a garden, we grew our own vegetables. We were trying. We didn’t deserve this. No one deserves this. To be plucked from the population, to serve and better mankind against your will. Or the alternative: to die, bettering the population through death. Neither option is one that I like.

Raven nudges his head into the crook of my arm.

“Does that mean they will be responsible for their own genetic pairings?” I ask.

Morris begins to cough, so much that he can’t catch his breath. I reach for the oxygen tank at his side, pulling the mask to his face and turning the flow up. “Can’t they give you some inhaled steroids to help?” I ask.

He shakes his head as the coughing slows. “I don’t want them.”

“Why?”

“This is how it is to be. Self-sufficiency in the District, in life, in health.”

“But Crane went out and sought medication for me, to save me. He took some of our most important people. One who didn’t come back.” I argue. “Your self-sacrifice doesn’t make sense, Morris. You are one of the original Funding Entities. Are you telling me your life is not important?”

“There are few exceptions, you were one of them. I am replaceable. You are not.”

“You people keep saying this, but I find it hard to believe you can’t find anyone else to do what I do. So what about the other countries, who does their genetic pairings?” I have to ask this. I want to know because my ability to do this job, to pair the Residents and their children, to help Crane create a race of passive, obedient humans, is the only thing keeping me and my family alive right now. I’m sure of it.

“That is a conversation for another day, Andromeda. I must rest now.”

I stand, adjusting Raven in my arms.

“Andromeda?” Morris stops me.

“Yes?”

“Are you working things out with Ian?”

“That is none of your business, Morris.”

He nods, sleepily. “Just remember, you are…” he falls asleep midsentence.

I watch him for a moment, holding my hand over his lips to make sure he is still breathing and didn’t actually just die in front of me. Feeling the warm bursts of breath coming from his mouth, I leave Morris to rest and head home to the comfort and seclusion of the Pasture.

chapter four

Staring at the wall, ignoring Dr. Akiyama, for the first time I notice that there are no pictures here; no artwork, nothing but dull gray paint on the walls. I wonder how he can work in here with all of its lifelessness. A couch and chair have been added. The couch is small, simple, covered in a dark blue fabric. The chair Dr. Akiyama sits in is of a similar style, its fabric a deep burgundy. Besides the furniture we are currently sitting in, the dark cherry wooden desk is the only other piece of furniture providing color to this room.

“How are you, Andromeda?” Dr. Akiyama asks.

Crane has ordered me to come here. Morris confided in me that they think this will help me become more approachable towards Ian. They can’t have me ruining the values of the District, one of their own Sovereign, imagine that. Either way, I’ve been coming here for weeks now, and it’s done nothing to help.

“Andromeda?” Dr. Akiyama asks.

When I look at him, his face is placid and smooth, his fine Asian characteristics a stark contrast to the now whiteness of his hair. How am I feeling? I cringe inwardly at the thought. I killed a man in cold blood, shot him in the head. I took a life out of this world, someone who was no threat to me. In my rush to get home, I didn’t even give him a chance. I was selfish. A murderer. And then Adam died because of me. So in total I killed two people. So how do I feel? The only way I can: I hate myself.

I hate everything I’ve done and everything I’ve become. I went against everything I ever believed in; to do good and to preserve life. And I know if Ian knew this he would most certainly never look at me again. He would never trust me, and maybe he’d even take Lina away.

“How has the baby been?” Dr. Akiyama asks, changing the subject.

I nod at him, remembering his visits he made to see me after the baby was born. He would take my blood pressure, my temperature, and then he would turn to the baby, looking him over and judging his growth between visits. But Raven’s not really a baby anymore.

“He doesn’t ever seem to cry,” Dr. Akiyama says.

“I know.” I look at the child sleeping on the couch next to me. “How was my surgery?” I ask about the cesarean section he performed to deliver Raven.

“About the same as any,” Dr. Akiyama responds his voice devoid of any tone which might make me think otherwise.

“It is very strange that I had this baby. I wasn’t able to get pregnant before. Ian and I tried for years. So why this time?”

“You know I can’t answer that, Andie. You were a nurse once, you know these things sometimes happen when they are least expected.”

Being less than satisfied with his answer, I press on. “You didn’t implant anything inside of me, did you? I know how Crane is with his transmitters and medications.”

He seems to squirm a bit before replying with a firm, “No.”

“I sure hope you’re not lying to me.”

“Andromeda,” he says. “I take my position as District Physician very seriously. I have not harmed you, or anyone else, in any manner. Why are you asking me this? Is it because you feel different?”

I nod and turn back to the window, watching the snow flutter between the branches of the leafless trees. Of course I feel different.

“Andie?” he presses on. “I’m here to help and listen. I know you don’t want to be here, but Crane demands this. You need to work towards coming here with…” he pauses as I turn to him, “with Ian.”

“I don’t want to do couples therapy, Dr. Akiyama. This isn’t going to help us. I’m not sure if anything will.”

“Maybe we need to think about some medication?” he asks, raising his thin white eyebrow. “You could be experiencing postpartum depression.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, knowing full well that all non-essential mediations and medical procedures have been done away with. Crane let the cardiac and diabetic Residents die rather than continue them on with their medications. To weed out the weak, he had told me once. “There are no medications for mundane illness anymore. Besides, Raven is hardly a baby anymore.”

“We have another medication.” He dips his chin as he looks at me. “The Residents’ medication.”

“No. That’s the last thing I need, walking around all happy, not caring what happens or what people tell me to do.”

He crosses his legs and adjusts the notebook on his lap, marking the paper as he does. “Just a small dose, you’ve experienced it before. How did it make you feel?”

“I don’t remember any of it. And I don’t care how it made me feel. I’m not taking that medication. I see what it does to those people.” I point towards the window.

“They’ve never been happier.”

“No. Never.” The dose I received was an accident and no doubt the cause of my illness at the end of my pregnancy.

He takes a deep breath in, blinking slowly as he exhales. Dr. Akiyama never loses his cool. He’s always level headed and I’m sure I’m annoying the crap out of him right now. “You have to do something. We can’t let you go back to the way you were the first time you went to the Pasture. If you hadn’t come out of that-”

“I don’t want the medication.” I tell him. “I don’t want any medication.”

“Then speak.”

I glare at him for a long time before finally talking. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Start at the beginning,” he suggests.

“Will you tell it all to Crane?”

He shrugs a little. “He likes to be informed of everything.”

“You owe me still,” I tell him. “You were supposed to keep my pregnancy a secret and he found out before I could tell anyone else.”

“It’s hard to hide things from Burton Crane. He…” Dr. Akiyama grips the top of his pen between his front teeth for a moment as he forms the thought. “He likes to know all things that are going on with those he cares most about.”

I snort out a laugh. “He doesn’t care about me, only what I can do for him.” I adjust myself on the couch, tucking a leg under myself. “So, will you tell him?”

“I’ll do my best to keep this private.”

“I’m sure patient doctor confidentiality doesn’t matter anymore?”

“It never really did.” He closes the notebook on his lap and uncrosses his legs. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

“There are too many beginnings.”

“How about when you woke up after having the baby,” he suggests, motioning to Raven who continues to sleep.

“Yes.” I gaze at him, remembering the first time I met him. Raven had been two weeks old. The aftereffect of the seizures and the medication kept me in some state between a coma and a stupor during those two weeks. “I woke up and Sam and Lina came in the room with the baby.”

“How did you feel?”

“Confused. A lot had happened before I delivered him and I felt foggy from the alcohol and the magnesium.”

“Is that what you’d like to talk about?” he suggests.

“There’s so much.” I pull my sweater tighter around me and button it a little higher. “So much happened.”

“What is the one thing that happened that keeps you from speaking with Ian?” he asks.

My heart rate picks up and feeling a sudden flush of shame. I unbutton the sweater to its original state. “There’s more than one thing,” I admit.

“There’s Adam?” he suggests.

I close my eyes when he says his name, flinching. “He’s dead,” I say. “He died.”

“He died to save you.”

“He died because of me. Because I am weak.”

“No one could have guessed you would become sick during the pregnancy.”

“It doesn’t matter. I killed him.” And I killed an innocent man. I shot him in the head, without a thought.

“You can’t blame yourself for his death.”

“I can blame myself for having an affair with him.”

“Do you see your infant as a reminder of his death?”

“No,” I answer quickly. I could never see Raven connected with his death. He is innocent, a child brought into this world by lust. He is just a reminder of my sins, not of Adam’s death.

“How is your routine, with the children and your work at the Pasture? It’s not overwhelming at all?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m managing it all just fine.”

“You? By yourself?” he asks. “Ian doesn’t help you?”

“I’ve never asked him to. I haven’t needed his help.”

“You cannot bear the burdens of the entire household as well as your work as District Matchmaker on just your shoulders. You are a family, a workable unit. Ian is there as the father figure to help and support you.”

“I’ve just…” I brush a lock of hair out of my face and tuck it into the bun holding my hair. “It’s easier doing it myself. He’s been through so much already.”

“And you feel guilty about what he’s been through?”

“I feel guilty that I didn’t fight to save him when this all started. I let Crane take him away and do whatever he did with him. And I moved on.”

“You were under excessive circumstances and stress,” Dr. Akiyama offers. “I’m sure Ian would understand, if not have compassion for all that you went through.”

“No.” I fumble with my sweater buttons. “No husband would have compassion for me, not after the things that I’ve done.”

“Do you speak to him?”

“Sometimes.”

Dr. Akiyama clears his throat. “When I say speak, I mean, do you produce full sentences and converse about things directly related to your life now?”

“Not really,” I admit.

“Have you resumed relations with him?”

“That’s none of your business.” I look away, feeling the flush of red heading for my cheeks.

“You’re well over eight weeks post-partum,” he tells me. “There’s no reason why you-”

“I know!” I interrupt him. “That’s so personal and it’s not a topic I want to discuss.”

“He still has a separate room doesn’t he?”

“You speak with him. I’m sure he’s already told you this. Besides, I’m sure he wouldn’t want me anyway, not after what I’ve done.”

“I sense…” Dr. Akiyama leans forward, closer to me. “I sense you are speaking of something else, something other than this affair that worries you.”

I simply stare at him. He must know. I’m sure all of the Funding Entities were informed of it. It was a test, after all. Every stop on that tour was a test, for both of us.

“Andie?”

He must know.

“What else is there?”

I pull the sweater tighter, pressing the edge of the button under my fingernail and the sharp pain focuses me. “I killed someone,” I tell him. “I killed a man in cold-blood. I murdered him.” Moving my hands to my face, I notice that they shake slightly.

“This bothers you immensely?”

“Wouldn’t it you?”

“The world is different now.”

“How different? Does it no longer matter if we kill each other?”

“The person you killed was meant to die.”

“No,” I argue. “No. We don’t decide who dies. I don’t decide who dies. I’m just supposed to sort genes, and pair the Residents up, and create these people for Crane.”

“You will do more. I know this.” He sets the notebook and pen on the table next to him and leans forward again, clasping his hands together. “Andie, sometimes… sometimes the higher we are in the pyramid of life, the harder the decisions we must make to better those below us.”

“I wasn’t brought up to believe that. I was brought up to believe that murder is wrong. What do I tell my children if they find out? That it’s okay, sometimes? That it’s okay if someone wants you to do it. They are supposed to look up to me. I am supposed to guide them through life. How can they believe anything I say to them, or suggest to them, when they know I performed the greatest sin of life? I killed someone. I shot him in the head. I took his life!”

Dr. Akiyama waves his hand in an arc in front of me. “There was another reason why you shot that man. You didn’t just do it because someone told you that you had to. What is the other reason?”

I bite my lip, hard. I remember the look on his face. That lost, hopeless look as he passed the gun between his hands. And he had already killed one man on that trip, the one that seeded the ocean with iron. Or at least that is what they told us. The man that taunted Adam, the one from the Middle East. I did it for him. But I don’t want to say his name. I don’t want to hear it on my lips.

“Andie?”

“I did it so he didn’t have to,” I finally say.

“So who didn’t have to?”

“Adam!” I almost shout. “I killed that man so Adam didn’t have to.”

“Why?”

“Because he had already been through so much. And I could see it on his face. It was killing him. Everything that happened to him came back the moment he looked at that helicopter as we prepared to leave for Galena.” Remembering the look on his haunted face, I stand and start pacing the office as I speak. “I could see it in his eyes. The way he carried himself. He wouldn’t talk to me anymore. They ruined him. They taunted him with that Chinook and that man from the Middle East, and then told him to kill again. I couldn’t just watch him fall apart like that. Not after all he’s done-did, after all he did.” I stop, now standing behind the couch where I was sitting. I place my hands on the back of it. “I couldn’t watch him fall apart like that. It was killing me.” I take a deep breath and look up to see Dr. Akiyama lean back in his seat.

“There is something honorable in taking a life so someone you love doesn’t have to. There is something honorable in settling that on your conscience, so someone you love doesn’t have to suffer with that guilt for the rest of their lives. You did Adam a favor.”

I push off the back of the couch and turn away from Dr. Akiyama, walking towards the window, my arms crossed tightly across my chest. “He’s dead now. So I guess it doesn’t matter,” I mumble.

“He died to honor you. For all that you’ve done for him.”

“I did nothing for him besides get him killed.”

“You birthed his child. A firstborn son. Something I’m sure he was proud of.”

I turn around to face him. “I wouldn’t know. After he looked at that Chinook he never said another meaningful sentence to me about the baby. We didn’t even pick out a name. Never once did he suggest anything.”

Dr. Akiyama simply nods his head slowly and lifts his left leg, crossing it over the knee of his opposite leg. “Who else have you told this to?” he asks.

“Told what to?”

“That you killed a man and that this weighs heavily on your conscience.”

“No one.”

“Not even Ian?”

“No.” I move to return to my seat on the couch, across from the doctor. “I can’t tell Ian. He would definitely never speak to me again.”

“Why is that?”

“You don’t know him, his beliefs. He was raised in a strict Roman Catholic home. He’s the reason why Lina went to Catholic School. Those were his beliefs and I followed them with him because I loved him. He doesn’t believe in capital punishment or death for a good cause. None of that. He believes if you kill someone then your soul will rot in hell for all of eternity.”

“You don’t like that he fears for your soul? That you may never ascend into heaven together when this life is over?”

“I don’t like that this will cause him to think even less of me.”

“What makes you think he would think less of you?”

“Because of everything I did.”

“Andromeda, this conversation is going around in circles. You need to set forth a plan to put your relationship on the mend. Ian is your husband. You are both Sovereign. The first married Sovereign couple in this District. You need to set the stage for others to follow in your footprints. You can’t have a marriage that doesn’t work, this will not be allowed.”

“What do I do? Where am I supposed to start with him?”

“Talk to him.”

“About what?”

“Anything, everything. Start with the day to day topics and then move on from there.”

“And tell him what I did.” I bite my lip in anticipation of his answer.

“If you mean tell him that you killed that man, then yes. There should be no secrets between you both.”

“And if that means he never speaks to me again?”

“Then at least he knows the truth and you have nothing left to hide. What does it feel like right now? How would you describe the way you feel?”

“It feels like…” I swallow hard, trying to catch my breath; this is how it always is when I thinking of all of these things together. “It feels like I’m drowning.”

“Have you been sleeping at night?”

“Yes.” I turn to look directly at him so he knows I’m serious, telling the truth. “I sleep perfectly fine every night.”

“No nightmares like you used to have?”

I shake my head. Only someone with a severe problem can kill a person and still sleep at night.

Newlyweds for fourteen months,
and counting…

chapter five

Maybe the gravestone was a bad idea. I walk to it every day carrying Raven. I tell him stories, stories of our life before this. Fairytales, really. It all seems like fairytales now. He will never see the world as I once knew it. He will never know what it’s like to go to the mall on Christmas, to play sports in school, to go to prom. My children will never know the life we had before.

I get the sense Lina may remember some of it, but not much.

I take one last look at the cold marble before heading to pick up Lina from the schoolhouse.

“Mommy?” she asks me as we walk to the alpaca pen to feed them. Stevie trots behind us, her tail wagging with excitement at seeing the animals. “Why did everything change?”

“What do you mean, Lina?”

“Everything is different now. I miss our old house and my old school.”

“That was years ago, Lina. You still remember all of that?”

“Yes. Why did it all change?”

“Well, some people thought it would be a good way to keep our planet healthy.”

“Why does our planet need to be healthy?” she asks and I wonder to myself if we really had sheltered her that much during her first five years of life.

“Because there were a lot of people and there was no one to teach them how to… Well, to control them, to stop them from polluting the earth.” I search for the appropriate words to help an eight year old understand why Crane and his Entities did this.

“Maybe people don’t want to be controlled. Maybe they want to be free.”

“I’m sure you are right, honey.”

“Do you still love Daddy?” She asks, staring intently with her green flecked eyes.

I stop dead in my tracks. I was not prepared for this. “Yes.”

“Then why don’t you hug him or kiss him like you used to?” she asks, tipping her head to the side, waiting, as I fight inside my brain for the best answer.

“Do you remember when he wasn’t living with us?” I ask her.

“Yes.”

“Well, when two people go through something like that, sometimes it’s hard for them to remember how much they loved each other before.”

She stares at me and reaches down for Raven’s hand. “So if someone took me away, or baby Raven, you would forget that you loved us?”

My heart breaks in that instant, as she stares so intently at me, trying to make sense of what is happening to her parents.

“No, Lina,” I kneel and pull them both close to me. “I would never forget how much I love you both. It is impossible for a mother to no longer love her children.”

And then I pull them so close, kissing them both on their cheeks.

“Mom,” Lina continues. “Why didn’t Adam ever come back?”

“There was an accident,” I hold her away from me so I can look at her while I speak. “There was an accident when mommy was sick and in the hospital, and Adam was hurt really bad.”

“And he died?”

“Yes.” I nod at her.

“I miss him sometimes,” she says with a quiver in her voice.

I pull her close again and I realize at this moment that this conversation is long overdue, about fourteen months overdue. “I miss him too,” I whisper to her and squeeze my eyes closed, feeling the swell of tears behind them. I take a deep breath and open my eyes, feeling Raven’s little hand resting on my cheek and his other hand resting on Lina’s head.

--

Raven still doesn’t cry. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t even try to utter a sound. It’s abnormal for a toddler. Dr. Akiyama worries that he suffered some in-utero damage, that he could be handicapped. I know he’s not. He’s just quiet. Observant. His eyes are inquisitive. I’ve watched him do things most toddlers don’t. He started walking when he was eight months old. He’s stopped using diapers. He listens, he understands. Raven is far from handicapped. But then, that’s the same thing Baillie thought about me. He told me so, when he hung me by my neck over the bridge.

I feel Raven rub his fingers over my face. He must be tired or bored.

“Say goodbye,” I tell him.

Raven waves at the gravestone and then to the Guardians that watch us from the forest edge. I’ve never pointed out that the large dogs watch us from the forest edge, but somehow Raven knows they are there.

I walk back to our house, stopping when I see Ian’s car parked near the barn. He should be at work for a few more hours. I get that tight feeling in my chest thinking about us being alone in the house as Lina finishes class and Raven sleeps. I’m still not ready for a real conversation with him. Instead of heading home, I walk to the barn and collect the SUV keys from Elvis’s desk.

“Going somewhere?” Elvis asks from the doorway as I’m walking towards him.

“Just for a ride.” I motion to Raven. “He’s having trouble sleeping. I thought a quiet ride might help.”

Raven scowls at me, or maybe at my lie.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’ll be back before the children are done with class.” I walk out of the barn and towards the SUV that I share with Elvis.

“Should I tell Ian?” he asks as he follows me.

“You can tell Ian whatever you want,” I reply loudly, a little too loudly. Instantly wishing I hadn’t because I can see Ian’s figure standing on the front porch of the house as I walk away.

I buckle Raven into an old car seat Sam found. One of the Guardians waits expectantly for me to move so it can jump into the vehicle. I get into the driver’s seat and drive away, my heart thudding in my chest the entire time. I don’t know why I’m such a jerk to him,  I don’t know why I don’t even try to make things better.

It’s been fourteen months of us living together, never really saying much to each other. And each night he paces and then walks out the front door to places unknown. I can’t bring myself to stand in the same room with him without the children there as a distraction, and I don’t even know why. I wanted him back so badly and now I don’t even know what to do with him.

It doesn’t help that Crane has made Ian Sovereign and has spent the last few months teaching Ian everything he missed when he was under the same medication regimen as the Residents.

Sometimes when we are in Committee meetings and Ian doesn’t understand something, creases form across his forehead and around his mouth. I’m sure he wants to ask me questions, maybe have deep conversations about what happened and how this place is being run, but I have no desire to speak of the Sovereign Committee meetings. I have no desire to speak of any of it.

I drive along the quiet country roads until I realize where I’ve brought myself; the county graveyard. I pull over to the side of the road and look out the window. Raven kicks my seat. He must be bored.

“Want to go for a walk?” I ask him. I know he’s not going to answer, but I assume he’d say yes. I get out and release the Guardian. I pick up Raven and carry him up the overgrown, pebbled driveway.

There are scores of locals buried here, families that have lived in this area for centuries. My family as well; my parents and grandparents. I look at Raven, wondering if he’d like to hear about his ancestors. I walk towards the family plot, someplace I haven’t been in years, at least not since before I had Lina. I walk up the hill, taking the trail that leads to the left. I see the old mausoleum, and knowing that our family plot should be behind that area, I head in that direction.

We walk through the sea of stones. I stop when I come to the familiar granite stones adorned with small angels seated at the corners.  The last time I was here, I had to bury my mother next to my father.

“Ah, here we are,” I tell Raven as I set him down. He toddles over to the gravestone and places his hand on it.

“Those were your grandparents, your grandfather and grandmother,” I tell him. “Your grandfather was lots of fun. He was a professor at the college, knew lots of crazy things about the Greeks. That’s how I got my name, Andromeda; she was a Greek princess and when her parents declared that she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, she was chained to a rock as a sacrifice to protect her land from a sea monster.” Raven’s eyes narrow on me as he judges the truthfulness of my story. “Perhaps this is a little much for you,” I tell him. “Anyways, it means leader of men-” I stop short, digesting the information I’ve just told my son, information that I haven’t thought about in a long time. Strange.

Raven runs his finger over the names etched in the stone. He moves to the stone next to it, placing his hand on the plain granite. This stone is much less adorned than the one my mother chose for herself and my father. “Those are your great-grandparents,” I tell him. His fingers rove over the etchings. “Constance S. Salk and Franklin E. Salk. Your great-grandmother was an orphan,” I tell him. “She swore that she would keep the Salk name going as homage to the family that adopted her. Your great-grandfather Frank even changed his last name, something that was unheard of.” Raven turns to stare at me. “Yes, our last name is Somers. I took your fath-… umm… Ian’s last name when we married. I wanted to be a bit normal and Sam could carry on the Salk name. I wish they could have met you, Raven. I wish they could have been around, all of them, they would have loved you so much.”

He looks at the gravestone of his great-grandparents and then down at the ground before he moves to the next gravestone. He sets his hand on the half-crumbled, lichen-consumed stone.

“No,” I shake my head at him. The etching says B. C. Bertrand. “I don’t know who that is-”

I hear a loud cawing from the other side of the graveyard and turn, looking across the hill. A large blackbird sits in a giant oak tree cawing towards us. For a second I think I see another person standing in the graveyard near where Adam’s family is buried. I see a shadow, movement, an image of a man with dark hair. It seems to turn and stare at us. It wavers in the sunlight; a mirage, a ghost.

My breath catches in my throat, the feeling almost chokes me. It’s not a mirage, it’s a result of me sniffing his T-shirt like a crack addict. Seeing him out in the daylight like this is nothing but a bad acid trip.

“Raven,” I reach out to pick him up and make our way back to the SUV by the road.

chapter six

Staring at the empty seat across from me, Crane speaks and I do my best to ignore him. I’ve done my work. I’ve updated him. He’s seen the data, the pairs, the families which will be made, the children they will have. I am bored now. I watch the children through the viewing glass that separates the committee room from the children’s play area.

“Andromeda?” I hear Crane ask me. His voice has the edge of agitation. It won’t be long before his ears turn as orange as his hair.

“Yes?” I ask.

“The Volker seat?”

I didn’t hear them nominate anyone. Still, I tell him, “No.”

For some reason I am also thoroughly agitated today. I’m not ready to have Adam’s seat filled, not yet. I look across the table. Ian is giving me a face. He doesn’t bother to wink at me anymore-not at a meeting, not like he did those other few times; as we left for the Tour and the day he showed up at the Pasture. There were other times after that, but I put a stop to them. I said a full sentence to him once and asked him to stop.

“You’ve denied each and every prospect. It’s been over a year. This can’t go on any longer.”

“What about Remington?” I ask.

Remington was our Runner, the one before Adam, the one who got caught divulging the secrets of the District to a woman at a bar while he was out getting supplies. That was before the Reformation.

“He’s gone,” Crane responds blandly, his features devoid of emotion. He doesn’t even care that he ordered Remington’s death. But Remington’s not really dead.

Alexander shifts in his seat.

“I know he’s still alive in the convict faction. You could bring him back.”

A look of smooth irritation coats Crane’s face. “You may be taking the place of Morris, but you’re not there yet,” Crane tells me. “I’m tired of waiting for a decision from you. Soon, I’m going to override your vote.”

“Let’s get things straight, Crane. You control the vote here. We all know that.” I hear a rough gasp from Alexander. Ian closes his eyes. Morris, he’s in the hospital, but I’m sure he’d be just as disappointed. “Are we done here?”

“No.” A thin smile spreads across Crane’s lips. I ready myself for the backlash. “Sam Salk will take the Volker Sovereign seat.”

“No!” I stand in objection.

“Your vote has been overridden. He has excelled in his Volker training over the past months. His training to take the Sovereign seat will commence immediately.”

Crane ends the meeting. I don’t even bother to look at Ian or Alexander to judge their responses.

“Andromeda,” he interrupts my departure.

“What?”

“Sign your agenda.”

Even though I don’t want to, I reach down and press my fingertip on the screen. An image of my fingerprint shows up, signifying that I agree with the proceedings. I don’t agree at all. Crane knows this already.

“Andromeda?”

“What?” I snap at him.

“I want you to remember this moment and the reason for my needing to force you to meet with Dr. Akiyama.”

“For what reason?”

Two red brows rise on his face. “Your attitude. I can’t have you involved in making decisions for the Residents when you are clearly out of control.”

Turning, I find Ian and Alexander standing next to each other, watching us. “Fine,” I mumble as I move to collect Raven from the play area and leave the building, headed for my own vehicle. I don’t wait for Ian. He’s been driving himself. We drove together once and it was extremely uncomfortable.

I drive home, probably faster than I should with a child in the car.

Parking next to the barn I take Raven inside and replace the keys. As I walk across the courtyard I can hear the sound of shots being fired, muffled by the thick barn exterior walls. Someone must be at the target range. It’s probably Sam.

It was a complete surprise that Adam found Sam and brought him back after the bombings, the last of my family that wasn’t already here. But now, with Crane’s nomination, it feels like he’s being taken away from me.

As I walk through the courtyard, Lina runs out of the schoolhouse, towards me.

“Can we swing, mom?” Lina asks.

“Sure,” I tell her.

She runs for the swing set in the courtyard. Elvis found it in someone’s backyard. He disassembled it and brought it back here for the children to play on. Pushing Lina and Raven on the swings, Lina sings as I wait for the sound of the gunfire to cease. It’s not long before Raven starts to rub his eyes.

“I’m going to bring Raven in for a nap,” I tell Lina. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, mom,” she responds mid-song.

Opening the front door to the house, I release Stevie who races to the swing set where Lina is. I hear Lina giggle as Stevie jumps in the air, trying to nip at her feet.

I lay Raven down and on my way out the door, I notice the Guardian sleeping in the corner of the living room.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asks as he pushes Lina on the swing. I walk towards him, unable to control the scowl on my face.

I motion for him to move away from Lina so she can’t hear us. “They didn’t tell you?” I ask.

“Oh, I’ve known. Aren’t you happy for me?” Sam asks, flashing a smile of straight teeth. That’s a smile he used to give the girls in high school, not his sister. Something’s up.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Sam?”

“I was instructed not to.”

“Sam! Crane just made you Volker Sovereign, that’s a huge deal. I can’t believe he’s having you keep secrets from me already.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Andie,” Sam adjusts his uniform, “Can’t you just be happy for me? I know this isn’t the life we expected, but some good can come out of it. I still have a life to live.”

“I’m scared for you,” I tell him honestly.

“Why, Sis?”

“Because Crane always has another agenda. You becoming the Volker Sovereign is just another punishment for me because I am defiant and I was rude to him in today’s committee meeting.”

“Maybe this isn’t about you.” He scowls down at me. He’s never looked at me like this before. It’s intimidating. “Maybe I want more than just to be your little brother here. I don’t need to be anchored to this place, to you. There are things that I can still do.”

“It’s not that cut and dry, Sam. These decisions aren’t made with our best interest in mind. They are made with the best interests of the Districts in mind. Do you know what that means? We are nothing but pawns to them.”

“You think I haven’t realized that already?”

I take a deep breath. “Sam, things will get worse before they get better. You saw what they did to me before you arrived.”

“Yeah, I did.” He steps towards me; he’s so tall that I have to look up to keep eye contact.

“If things were different, I’d be so happy for you right now. But to tell you the truth, I’m scared for you.”

“I can take care of myself.” He wraps his arm across my shoulders and squeezes me into his ribs.

I relish the contact, contact that I haven’t had from him in quite some time since he’s been training. My little brother is growing up. I glance up at him. Nope, I’m wrong, he is all grown up. “Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“I am proud of you, really proud. I just don’t want this for you. I wish the world were different, I wish it was years ago.”

“We can’t go back in time, Andie. All we have is now, all we have is each other, and I don’t plan on sitting around and letting these people tell me what to do. We need to stick together, we’re family. And now there are three of us on the committee. Now Crane’s the odd man out.” I feel the muscles twitch in his arm.

I still feel this overwhelming need to protect him, even if he is four times the size of me, he’s my little brother after all. “Don’t be naive, Sam. Crane has people all over, and for some reason they are afraid of him. So afraid they’ll do whatever he asks.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” Sam releases his hold on me and steps back. “Where’s Raven?” he asks, looking around.

“He’s in the house.” I point across the courtyard.

“You left him home alone?”

“He’s not alone, there’s a Guardian with him.”

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“You left a dog as a babysitter.” The boyish smirk I remember from our childhood returns to his face.

I shrug. “I trust them more than most people.”

“Me too,” he agrees.

“Mom?” I hear Lina’s voice from behind me.

We both turn. “Hey, honey.” Lina walks towards me, pulling a pink knit hat over her head. She’s going to be nine soon and she’s almost as tall as I am.

“Astrid wants to help me feed the horses today.” She points to the schoolhouse where Blithe is releasing the rest of the children for an afternoon of fresh air.

“That’s fine.” I look across the courtyard towards the barns. Elvis waits with a bucket of oats and carrots.

“Can we go to the range after?” she asks as Astrid runs towards us.

And there goes my little girl, growing up, running off to do chores and spend time with the other Sovereign children. “Sure, Lina, just make sure you have an adult with you.”

“I’ll meet them there,” Sam says. “I need to practice a little more.”

I’m sure he doesn’t. Sam has perfect aim.

--

In the evening, there is a fire in the courtyard and dinner to celebrate Sam’s promotion. I bring a sweet pear bread, made with the last of the walnuts from my cupboards and ripe pears from the orchard. Elvis brings rabbits to roast over the fire. Blithe brings roasted squash.

As Elvis arranges the skinned rabbits on a skewer, I watch Ian pluck a few ears of corn from the field and submerge them in a bucket of water.

If we spoke much I might ask him what he is doing, but instead I just watch as he carries the bucket to the fire and places the wet corn, husks and all, onto the hot coals. The corn sizzles and smokes. The tassels burn away instantly, and after a few minutes Ian pulls the corn off to cool. The children huddle around him as he pulls the husks off, revealing a perfectly steamed cob of corn.

We eat in the entertainment of the children, releasing all of their pent-up energy from days of instruction within the school house. I sit at the picnic table with Raven on my lap and Lina next to me. Blithe sits across from us, Sam next to her. Elvis and Ian occupy the log bench a few feet from the fire. Stevie chews on rabbit bones at Lina’s feet.

“Congratulations,” Blithe tells Sam as she pushes the food around on her plate.

Sam stops midair, about to take a large bite of the pear bread, “Thank you,” he replies to her. And in the early evening grayness I think I see a slight color rise to his neck and cheeks.

“Sam-” I’m about to ask him if he’s feeling all right, but before I do Raven’s head tips forward. Blithe reaches out, her long arm extending, stopping his head from hitting the table in front of me.

“Seems we’ve bored Raven to sleep,” Blithe says as she tips his head back towards my chest.

“I’ll go put him to bed.” I move him to my shoulder and stand.

Raven barely stirs as I change his clothes and wipe his face with a warm cloth. Pushing the dark locks from his forehead, his eyes flutter open for a just a moment; light blue eyes, just like Adam’s. Without me asking, he holds his chubby little fingers up for me to clean with the cloth.

When I’m done washing the crumbs from his fingers, I gather him in my arms and hold him close to my chest. “I love you, baby Raven,” I tell him, running my fingers through his silky hair. When it seems he has fallen asleep again, I carry him to his crib and cover him with a knit blanket. As I watch him sleep, I notice a small lump under the blanket. Moving it, I find Lina’s stuffed owl. I hold it in my hand, remembering what it took to get the toy back to Lina, before finally tucking it into the blanket next to Raven.

My hand moves to the owl charm around my neck, the one Adam had made for me, and I can’t hold back the sigh that escapes my lips.

“Goodnight,” I whisper to Raven as I leave the room.

Returning to the party, I take my time walking towards everyone. Elvis, Sam, and Ian talk loudly about crops and guns and Volker recruits. Now Ian sits on the picnic table, Sam and Elvis flank him on each side. The children laugh and dance by the fire as though they were a group of witches plotting a spell. Stevie runs in circles around them. I notice Blithe sitting on the log bench alone, the flame of the bonfire reflected in her eyes as she watches the children. I make my ways toward her, watching the children myself, smiling at these carefree moments of childhood that they may remember forever.

“It’s good that they have this,” Blithe tells me as I sit.

“What’s that?”

“These moments to be children.”

“Yes.” I agree with her.

We sit for a few moments in silence, watching the children. Lina and Astrid twirl their hair and intertwine their hands, dancing in some sweet possession by the pale moonlight. I find myself smiling as I watch them, turning to Blithe, wondering if she sees what I see. Her eyes are focused past the fire and the children, watching the men as they talk.

She begins speaking. “I’ve always enjoyed the company of children, much more than adults most of the time.” She turns to look at me. “That’s why I became a teacher.”

“You’re very good at what you do,” I tell her.

“There was a time when I thought I might have children of my own.” She stretches her legs out and twists her hands in her lap. “I’m not sure if I told you what I was doing in Japan?”

“You told me you were a teacher there, teaching at a private school for the children of U.S. Embassy personnel.”

She nods her head slightly. “I followed my fiancé there.” Blithe’s eyes soften a bit and a sheen fills them, reflecting the orange glow of the fire.

“You’re engaged?”

“Was. I was engaged. I spent my days teaching the lonely, well-traveled children of the Ambassadors. Do you know what it’s like for those children, travelling the world, never having a chance to make real friends or moving each time they do?”

I shake my head. “The children are lucky to have you. What happened to your fiancé?” I ask.

“I lost him,” she responds flatly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I thought he was a good man, that’s why I wanted to marry him. I had it all planned out-the wedding, the honeymoon. I wanted to have four children. But none of that transpired.”

“What happened?”

“I came home to find him in bed with a beautiful Japanese woman.” I try not to make a sound as my face flames with embarrassment. “They must have been quite satisfied, the two of them, they didn’t even stir as I packed my bags. And as I was walking down the hall of our apartment building, I ran into a peculiar man who made me an offer I couldn’t refuse at the time.”

“You met Burton Crane in Japan?”

“Yes. And here I am now.” She glances towards the men who continue their talking. Astrid runs up to Sam and taking his hand, she pulls him towards the fire to join the other children in their moonlight dancing. Blithe smiles a bit. “And now I have more children than I ever thought I could have. But still…” She trails off, never finishing her thought.

“There are plenty of men here, Blithe. You still might find someone.”

She blinks slowly and as she does the clouds cover the moon so I cannot see her true expressions, only the shadows from the flames and the trees, spreading across the planes of her face. “Like you have?” she replies dryly.

Ouch. “I know,” I tell her, and as though Ian were listening to our conversation, I notice him turn towards us. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“As long as you know,” she replies. And just as she stops speaking, one of the boys-Lex-runs towards us and taking Blithe’s hand, he pulls her to join in the fire-dancing.

Lina runs towards Ian and Elvis, taking their hands and pulling them towards the fire. Cashel runs towards me, doing the same. We join hands, skipping in a circle as the flames die down, the children sing Ring-around-the-Rosie.

As the children skip, reveling in that possession by the moon and the fire, Marcus and Ira let go of their hands and switch places further down in the circle, followed by Astrid and Lex. I notice Lina smiling as she moves next to Ian, grasping his hand and shaking his arm to make him sing louder. With all the switching of places, it’s not long before Blithe and Sam wind up next to each other, his large hand grasping her slender one, skipping along with the children. I feel Lina’s familiar hand take mine.

“As fun as this is,” Elvis starts and looking up, he moves his hands in front of him, pulling together Lex and Marcus-who were on either side of him-and connecting them to each other, closing the circle. Elvis salutes the lot of us. “I must go put the beasts to bed!” Elvis backs up, a wide smile spread across his face as he watches us skip, the children still singing, barely missing a beat as he leaves. Just as he gets far enough away that the fire no longer lights his face, I see his smile fade away to a look that can only be described as longing and melancholy. Then he turns and walks fastidiously towards the barn.

Skipping along with the children, listening to the laughter from Blithe and Sam as the children switch places with them again, the evening breeze blows my hair across my face and I feel Lina’s grasp on my hand loosen. Turning, I see what is about to happen. Ian looks up as she lets go of both of our hands, skipping to the other side of Lex. It must be the look on my face, or maybe it’s him, knowing that we’d have to hold hands. We both stop dead in our tracks. The children knock into Ian’s back, causing him to lurch forward a bit. I take a step back. The fire flickers in his brown irises, and he doesn’t even attempt to reach out and take my hand. There are moans and shouts from the children behind Ian, urging him to keep up with the song, but neither of us moves.

“Okay, wild beasts,” Blithe answers the children’s shouts. “I think it’s time for bed!”

The night air is filled with, “Aww,” and “Already?” and “But we were having fun,” as she ushers the four boys into a line, leaving Lina and Astrid behind with us.

Ian looks towards the fire. “Sorry,” he whispers as he turns abruptly, following Elvis’s path towards the barn.

I gather up Lina and Astrid and bring them home for bed.

There is no pacing from Ian that night because he does not return. I lay in my bed, alone, awake, feeling the cold sheets next to me. I pull the spare pillow to my chest, trying to stop that empty feeling in there.

In the morning I hear Ian’s steps as he walks down the hall towards the kitchen. I pretend to be occupied as he makes his coffee and drinks it. Turning, I watch as he pats each of the children atop their heads and walks out the door for work at the nuclear plant.

chapter seven

Ian

“She doesn’t speak to me.”

“Still nothing more than a few words?” Dr. Akiyama asks.

I shake my head at him. I think she’s said one full sentence, and that was only four words: Don’t wink at me. Yup, four words.

“She still refuses to come here with you.”

I slouch down into the couch. I know this already. “I don’t know what to do with her,” I admit to him.

“What have you tried so far?”

“Just… I don’t know. Normal things. I get the kids from the school if she has something to do. But she’s always there, doing everything herself. She never leaves. I don’t even know when she comes here.” I assume it’s while I’m at the plant, during those eight hours that I am away and the hours that Lina is in school that she has to visit Dr. Akiyama. But, she’s never told me a day. I’ve never walked into the kitchen on Tuesday morning and had her tell me that she has to go to the doctor in the afternoon so don’t worry if I come home and she’s not here. She used to say things like that to me in the mornings. Now there’s nothing but silence from her.

“Perhaps you should just do something for her, show her that you’re there for her, to help. Maybe make dinner, fold the laundry?”

“No.” I shake my head at him. “She doesn’t like it when I do those things. It will just make her angry.”

“Maybe not, she’s changed.”

“I know and I don’t know who she is anymore.”

Dr. Akiyama picks up a notebook from the table next to him and flips through it. “Do you still love her?”

“Yes,” I tell him firmly. Of course I still love her. How could I not love the mother of my child? And after all I have done to get back to them? I wouldn’t have starved myself half to death if I didn’t still love Andie and Lina.

“After all that she has done? You can still love her despite the fact that she has lain with another man and bore his child?”

I think of Andie and Lina coming home from the hospital with the baby, his baby. Raven is what Lina named him. Over the past few weeks I’ve barely seen him, Andie keeps him to herself. I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I think I can learn to accept it.”

“You are not angry with her?”

“No, not with her.” I look away from him.

“With whom then?”

I don’t answer. I don’t trust any of these people.

“I see,” Dr. Akiyama states softly as he writes something in his notebook. “Has she told you what happened to her?”

Shaking my head, I reply, “She won’t even tell me the time of day, let alone what happened to her.”

“Perhaps with time then,” he suggests.

“How much time? I’ve been waiting for… forever. How long am I supposed to wait?”

Dr. Akiyama exhales a long breath. “Ian, you do realize she loved two men and both of them died to her. Now, one has returned. That isn’t easy for anyone. It does things to the mind and soul, things that take a while to mend together.”

I nod to him, pressing my lips together, now is not the time to talk. But I want to tell him that I was never dead. I have never died. I have always been here. Alive, waiting.

“Is this problem impacting your work at all?”

“No,” I answer, shaking my head. “That’s the easy part. I’ve been doing that job for years. I could run that reactor with my eyes closed.”

--

On my way back to the Pasture, I make a detour and swing by our old house.

Someone else has been taking care of it. The sidewalk is shoveled, the driveway too. It’s strange staring at our old house and remembering everything we used to be. Dr. Akiyama wants to know who I’m angry with and it’s not Andie. It’s them and…me. I have to fix this.

Throwing the vehicle into park, I get out and head into the house. There’s something I need to find here, something I’ve been looking for a long time now. They have to be here. There is no other place Andie could have left them.

--

Parking next to the barn, I sit in the SUV while the sun bakes the interior, warming this cold chill in my center as I listen to the snow fall from the barn roof, landing with heavy plops on the ground. It’s strange, the weather we have now. Snowstorms and warm days, then it’s back to blizzards again. I look at the dashboard clock and see that it’s almost two. Today I promised to get the children from the school house so Andie could do some errand. She didn’t give specifics. I wonder if she’s going to see Dr. Akiyama. I wonder if he’ll tell her what I’ve been telling him.

I walk across the courtyard and wait, leaning against the porch railing. Stevie is the first one to run out of the school house. The sound of her paws making hollow noises on the wood of the porch is followed by the door crashing against the porch railing and the sounds of the boys running and leaping off of the steps. Lina is last, holding onto Astrid’s hand. Raven isn’t here today, Andie took him with her wherever she went. She always takes him, it’s like she’s afraid to leave him with me.

I kneel to pet Stevie.

“Daddy!” Lina let’s go of Astrid’s hand and jumps on my back.

“Hey, sweetie!” I stand and adjust my arms to give her a piggyback ride.

“Where’s mom?”

“She had some things to do.” I spin her around. “So, what do you want to do until she gets home?”

“Let’s feed the horses!” Lina wraps her arms around my neck. I pause, relishing that feeling. There was a time when I never thought I’d feel her arms around me or see her again. I make my way towards the barn. “Wait!” she shouts in my ear. “We forgot Astrid!”

Turning around, I search for the little girl with the short dark hair and find her standing on the porch holding Blithe’s hand, her eyes wide and watery. “Astrid!” I release one of Lina’s legs and hold my hand out to her. “Come on! The horses are hungry.”

Blithe releases Astrid’s hand, and nods with a smile.

Astrid runs, her little legs moving fast over the snowy yard. I hold my hand out, but at the last second, as she’s reaching, she slips and starts to fall. A small noise escapes her throat. I move fast, two steps, and just before she lands on her hands and knees, I grasp her around the waist and lift her.

No tears today, not on my watch.

“Gotcha.” I move to lift her up, settle her on my hip and notice the gleam in her eyes is more watery than it was before. “No flying today, Astrid.” I skip a step and bump her in the air. “Only the birds can fly here.”

This elicits a giggle from both of the girls, warming that dark chill in my center for just a few moments more.

After feeding the animals we arrive back at the house to find Andie. They’re setting the table for dinner, Raven on her hip as usual.

I hang the girl’s coats, arrange the shoes in a straight line by the door. The girls run into the kitchen, both of them rosy cheeked from the crisp air outside. I watch from the doorway as they both stop to hug Andie around her waist before dashing to their seats at the table.

I guess now is as good a time as any to offer to help like Dr. Akiyama suggested. I take three steps into the kitchen. Andie turns as soon as she sees me, faces the stove and reaches for a plate piled high with sandwiches.

“Can I help?” I ask.

She stops dead in her tracks, stares at me with wide eyes.

“Ah… sure.” She hands me the plate of grilled cheese. I move to take it, hands shaking. I don’t even know why, maybe it’s her suddenly taking me up on an offer to help instead of telling me no or shaking her head. Maybe it’s that necklace I can see hiding under her shirt. My nerves hit me like never before. I feel her hand release the plate, and with mine so nervously fumbling, the plate slides out of my fingers and onto the floor, shattering with a loud sound.

Lina and Astrid stop their schoolgirl chatter and turn to see what happened. Andie’s mouth drops open and she mutters an apology. Don’t know why she’s apologizing. I’m the one who dropped the plate. I look up to find Raven staring at me, a scowl on his face, agreeing without words that I am every bit the klutz that I currently feel like.

Andie sets Raven down and grabs an empty plate off the counter before bending to pick dinner up off of the floor.

Raven glares, and for a moment I wonder if this stare he’s giving me, if it’s similar to a face his father would make. It has to be, he barely resembles Andie at all since he’s all dark-as-night-hair and blue eyes. He looks down at his mother before returning his gaze to me with a what-are-you-waiting-for look on his face. He toddles away and climbs into his chair at the table.

I drop to a crouch, a little too late, and fumble to help pick up the sandwiches. Some have shards of ceramic plate embedded in them. Andie sets the salvageable sandwiches on the clean plate after brushing them off.

My hand runs into hers as we both reach for the last sandwich.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

“It’s fine.” She throws two of the sandwiches in the pig bin, then cleans the broken plate off of the floor with a dustpan. “Why don’t you go clean up?”

I look down at my hands to find them coated with crumbs and small pieces of broken plate. I don’t remember standing or walking away. But the next thing I know I’m standing in the bathroom, rubbing soap over my hands, wondering how I could botch a task as simple as carrying a plate to the table. Jesus, I wasn’t even this nervous when I first met her or when I asked her to marry me.

By the time I return from the bathroom, Andie had filled the dinner bowls with homemade tomato soup and cut the remaining sandwiches into quarters. It was while I was eating my third piece of sandwich that I noticed she hadn’t eaten any, and there was none left. After that she didn’t even have to ask me to take out the garbage. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I grab the trash, the pig bin, and the compost bin and practically run out the door, feeling like an ass.

As I stalk across the courtyard I am interrupted by a low whistle.

“She got you trained good.” Sam’s familiar voice breaks the still night air.

I stop and wait for him to walk next to me, taking note that he’s coming from the direction of Blithe’s house. “Guess so,” I reply, looking down at the garbage bag and bins in my hands.

As we walk towards the barn, Sam asks. “How’s married life? Again.”

“Lot less talking than there was before.” Sam chuckles. “Sam.” I stop and turn. “I’ve never known her like this. I know you’re her brother and you probably don’t want to hear this personal stuff, but nothing is getting better. I don’t know what to do with her.”

“Don’t know what to tell you, man.” Sam slaps me hard on the shoulder. “She’s gone through a lot. Hell, we all have. She’s probably just waiting for Crane to pull another stunt, and he will. She still needs to go to Florida. There’s unfinished business there.”

“How long before she goes?”

Sam shrugs. “Don’t know. Crane hasn’t given me those details yet. But I’m sure it’s going to be soon. Within the next few months. I think he’s giving her time.”

“Time?”

“With the kids. With Raven, because he’s so young.”

We walk around the back of the barn. I throw the garbage in the bin, the compost in the compost pile, and the ruined food in the pig pen. Stacking the two bins together, I carry them with one hand, listening as the pigs grunt over the toasted cheese sandwiches.

I turn to Sam. “So what are you? Crane’s right hand man now?”

Sam laughs. “Not quite, but you know what they say, keep your friends close-”

“Yeah, and your enemies closer,” I finish his sentence for him.

“Don’t trust for a minute that he won’t slit your throat if you become less than useful.”

“Jesus Christ, Sam. Are we seriously having war talk?” I take a step back and watch him in the moonlight. He’s still the same Sam. Looks like Andie, just huge and intimidating, the total opposite of a little brother.

Sam frowns. That’s unusual. He’s always smiling. “Look, Ian, things are going to get tougher. I just need you to remember Andie has one agenda, she’s always had just one agenda, and that’s to keep those kids safe, to keep her family safe. That includes you and me.” Sam pokes me in the chest. “I know you probably hate Adam for all that he was and all that he did, but if you had seen her like I did when I first got here…” Sam rubs his hands through his hair. “She was a total mess.”

“I know-”

“No, Ian, you have no clue. They fucking broke her, man. They broke her to pieces and made her believe that Lina would be dust if she didn’t do what they said. They told her that you would be dust. She knows she fucked up screwing around with Adam. And I can’t say I wouldn’t have done something similar if I had to consider my spouse dead. There was just something about him. Hell, I trusted him with my life within moments of meeting him. She may have done a hell of a lot of things wrong, but you know what she did do right? She aligned herself with one person that she could trust to get her and Lina out of here. And they almost made it.”

“And left me behind in the process.”

“No, man.” He pokes my chest harder. “That’s one thing about Adam, if she had asked him to go back and get you out, he would have. He told me so. He didn’t have to come pull my ass from the wreckage of the Reformation, but he did. He did it for her. He would do anything for her.”

“But they didn’t save me.”

“He never got the chance.”

I shove my hands in my pockets, chuckling a breath of defeat out of my lungs in the process.

“Hey, man. We’re all on the same team now. We’re all together.”

“Yeah, we’re all Sovereign. I just don’t understand why. Out of all the people in the world, why us?”

“Don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”

“And what do I do about Andie in the mean time?”

Sam gives me a look, one of those good-luck-with-that-buddy looks. “That’s your deal, man. Whatever you do, you need to get her head straight. It’s going on two years since anything crazy happened. Something’s coming. I can feel it. She probably can too.”

“Great,” I mutter.

“You should probably get some rest,” Sam suggests. “Still sleeping alone?”

“Shut up.”

Sam laughs.

I look towards Blithe’s house, see her turn out the lights downstairs. Turning towards Sam, I ask, “What the hell are you doing coming from Blithe’s house at this hour? Doesn’t she have like seventeen kids to take care of?”

“Four. Douche. She has four.” Sam turns suddenly serious. “And what I was doing in there is none of your damn business.”

If I didn’t know Sam, hearing him call me douche might have upset me. But that’s Sam; sarcastic, funny, easy going. Now I guess I’ll have to add slightly-deceiving to that list.

He stops and turns as he’s walking away. “Ian?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re family. You and me.”

“I know this.”

He runs a hand over his head. “She cuts hair.”

“Who?”

“Blithe. She’s good with hair. And you could use a trim.”

“Good to know, thanks.”

Sam heads across the courtyard for his room above the library house, and I head for the home I share with Andie.

--

By the time I return to the house Andie is already tucking the kids into bed. Eager to avoid screwing up again, I duck into my room and close the door. It’s not long before there is a soft knock and the sound of Lina’s voice.

“Daddy?” she asks through the crack.

I stand and open the door. “Hey, Sweetie, you getting ready for bed?”

“Yeah,” she replies with a yawn. “Mom said to tell you goodnight.”

“Okay.” I pulled her in for a hug. “Sleep tight, Lina. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She pulls away, stopping before she reaches the door. “Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Mom said you were just a little nervous and that’s why you dropped the plate.” And then her little nose scrunches up in a thoughtful look. “I told her you can’t be nervous. You’ve always been Daddy.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sweetie, this isn’t kid stuff. Mom and me, we will get it right eventually.”

I listen to her pad down the hallway to her room. Then the evening is filled with the clicking of doors being closed and lights being flicked off. When I hear Andie’s soft footsteps in the hall as she heads to her room, I lie on the bed and do the same thing I do every night: try to figure out a way to fix this.

After a few hours have passed, I roll over and pull the dog-eared copy of the Manifesto out from under my bed-if you could even call this a bed, it’s just a narrow twin mattress. At least this one has springs, even if they do squeak.

I flip to the page I’ve stared at for months. Andromeda Somers, District Matchmaker. As I stare at the photo of her I notice she looks different now, just slightly so. And looking up at the family photo I have on the dresser, I try and figure out what it is. I close my eyes, remembering what she looked like at dinner.

The only problem is Andie never looks directly at me. But she did tonight when I dropped that plate. I recall what she looks like from the side and as she faced me. She has almost the same profile as Lina, long lashes, green eyes, straight nose-I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before. I open my eyes and look at the two pictures in front of me then close my eyes and see her as I did tonight. Her nose is no longer straight. Instead, there’s a slight bump in the middle like it’s been broken.

Shit.

I toss the Manifesto under the bed and turn to lie on my back, my hands behind my head. This causes the mattress to squeal in protest to my movements. God I miss my old bed. It had one of those pillow tops, and it was King sized so my feet didn’t hang off the end. And Andie was there.

I roll again, sitting up and dropping my feet to the floor. I can’t wait any longer. I’ve wasted too much time staring at pictures and talking to the shrink. Standing, I push on my shoes and glance at the clock. It’s nearly midnight; the chances of any of the children waking up now are slim. Grasping the door handle, I turn it just so, preventing it from making much of a noise. Usually that’s impossible, almost every part of this old farmhouse groans and squeaks. When the door is open just far enough for me to fit through, I slide through, leaving it ajar for when I come back.

Walking down the hallway, I know just where to step, and just where to stop. Andie’s door is open, just like it is every night. I wait, listening, making sure she’s not awake. There’s just stillness. I take two long steps and pass her door. Tonight, I don’t bother stopping in the kitchen. I grab my jacket off the hook next to the door and slip out into the night.

I stand on the porch for a minute, pushing my arms into the jacket and zipping it. Two Guardians sleep on the far end of the porch. One of them raises its head to look at me. I glance at it before jogging down the steps and across the courtyard. When I reach the barn I slow down, there’s no point in getting the animals all worked up with me running through, that will be sure to wake up everyone out here. I stop and knock on Elvis’s office door, wait as I hear his boots as he walks across the room and pulls the door open.

“Early tonight, Ian,” he says, rubbing his eyes, his Australian accent thicker than usual at the moment.

“Can’t sleep.” I shove my hands in my jacket pockets and follow him out of the barn, across the courtyard again, and to the smaller barn that is used as a firing range. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how I felt seeing Lina shoot a pistol for the first time. But seeing what happened here, and now realizing that something terrible happened to Andie, I’m glad she knows how to defend herself. But I don’t come out here each night to play with guns.

“You ready?” Elvis turns to me once we’re inside. He looks tired. I know he’s been training Sam during the day. Staying up late with me is probably killing him.

I hold out my left hand as he secures the straps and ties them into place. “Yeah.”

He looks up at me as he moves to secure my right hand. “I only have a few hours tonight, then the rest is up to you.”

“Okay.” I nod at him and flex my fingers.

“What do you think you’re going to get out of this?” he asks as he walks to the cupboard on the wall and pulls out a pair of gloves.

“Does it matter?”

“A man who stays up all night doing this…” he tips his gloved hand at me. “Is preparing for something.”

“And what do you think I’m preparing for?”

“Haven’t figured it out yet.”

I push my hair out of my face. “Is that a problem?” I stretch my arms across my chest, loosening the tight muscles.

“Not much of one. At least it keeps me in shape.” He pats his stomach. “Not getting any younger.”

I smile. I would guess he’s in his early forties, maybe twelve years older than me. He still looks fit, tanned. His hair has yet to turn gray. “How old are you anyway, Elvis?”

“Does it matter?” he asks with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’m still faster than you.” And with that, his left arm jabs forward and he punches me in the gut.

Newlyweds for two years,
and counting…

chapter eight

Andie

“Mom?” Lina’s sweet little voice breaks the silence of the morning.

“Yes, Lina.”

“Are you going to kiss Daddy today?”

The plate that I’m washing slips out of my hands, landing with a loud thunk at the base of the wide sink basin. We had a similar conversation months ago, she had asked me why we don’t sleep in the same bed like we used to.

I was hoping she would let the topic pass. “Do you remember our talk about appropriate conversations at the table?” I ask her softly.

I don’t tell her that I’m afraid to push him back to being like that. And that right now he thinks I might still be a bit innocent, he might actually trust me. But I know all that will change if I tell him what I did. If he knew that I killed a man, I know he would never look at me again. I might actually lose him for good, for forever.

“I remember some things.” She sips at her hot cocoa. “I remember that you used to love him, you used to kiss him. But you don’t anymore.”

“Yes, well…” I never expected the conversation to take this route, and I’m not sure what to say. As I stir my coffee, I move to sit at the table. I look across the table and Raven stares at me, toast in hand, lips pursed, awaiting my response. Astrid’s all nervous eyes, waiting to hear what I say.

“And then everything changed and you loved Adam.” Raven looks to Lina when he hears the name. “Do you think he went to heaven?” Lina continues as Raven’s eyes flick towards the ceiling.

“Yes. I hope.” I hear footsteps in the hall. Ian walks into the kitchen, buttoning the top button of his shirt as he walks towards the coffee maker. “Finish your breakfast, Lina. Today Raven goes to school with you.”

Raven turns to me. Silent as usual. He bites at the toast in his hand and chews it thoughtfully.

Lina and Astrid finish their toast and cocoa. Then Lina takes the dishes to the sink. She returns to the table, standing by Raven’s chair. “Come on, Raven, let’s go brush our teeth.” She holds her hand out and Raven places his chubby hand in hers. He slips down from the chair and follows the girls to the bathroom. Stevie follows closely behind them, dipping her head every few steps to pick up the toast crumbs that fall off of Raven’s clothes as he walks.

“Is he ever going to speak?” Ian asks from behind me.

I stand and bring my mug to the sink. “I don’t know,” I tell him.

He stares at me, expectantly, like I might reach up on my tip-toes and kiss him goodbye for the day. Like I used to years ago. I haven’t brought myself back to that. I’m not sure if I can. It’s been getting better. Two years later and we can speak in a few sentences at a time to each other, full sentences, without awkward pauses or abrupt endings.

I bring the children to the school house and return to make the beds, fold the clothes, and do the wifely things that women do. Normal things that normal women do, not the things that are expected of me, things like helping Crane run the world, like deciding on the future of the Residents.

I open my drawer, a pile of shirts in my hand. I stop before placing them inside. The black T-shirt is there. Adam’s T-shirt. I reach in with my free hand, running my finger over it before pulling it out and placing my pile of clothes in its place. I stare at the shirt in my hands; the scent of it is starting to fade. It almost smells more like my own clothes than him. I know I shouldn’t, but I press the shirt to my face. I breathe in deeply, smelling the last bit of him. And the memories, they’re like a drug still.

I need to stop this.

“Andie?” Ian’s voice interrupts me.

Remembering I left the bedroom door open, I turn quickly, hiding the shirt behind my back. “Yes?” I ask out of breath, as though I ran a mile… or twelve.

I didn’t run though, I just relived two years of a life I had with another man in one breath, one man who was not my husband.

Ian looks around the room, taking in my bed, the crib, the rocking chair. He shouldn’t be here right now. He should be at the nuclear plant, running the place, just like Crane wants. Ian walks to the crib, places his hand on the rail.

“We could rearrange,” he tells me.

“What do you mean?” I stand still, clenching the shirt behind my back still.

“Put Raven in my room, give you more space in here.”

“Then where would you sleep?”

“The master bedroom,” he replies without looking at me.

I tense at his suggestion. My room is the master bedroom. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Because, things have changed.”

“We could learn to make it work,” he pleads.

I know his eyes are searching my face. I just can’t bring myself to look at him. Why? Because I was just sniffing the shirt of my dead lover, reliving all those memories, and that’s just as bad as openly cheating. Which I kind of did already. Ian will see it all over my face. He probably does already.

“I’m not ready,” I force out.

“When will you be ready?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s been two years, Andie. He’s been dead for two years. Don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

That’s it. “You know, that’s the same thing Crane said to me about you, Ian, when I begged him to give you back to me. I don’t need to be reminded of how long he’s been dead for. I remember each time Raven has a birthday.”

“Andie-”

“What, Ian? What do you want?”

“You’ve changed,” he tells me, glancing at me from head to toe.

“We’ve both changed,” I remind him.

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. He needs it cut. But I’m not going to tell him. I don’t tell him much, besides hello and goodbye and the garbage is full. Unless he has a question. I usually answer his questions.

“Is that his shirt?”

“What?”

“Behind your back. Is that his shirt?”

Shit. “I just found it,” I lie to him.

“Sure you did.” He reaches to the side, tapping his fingers on the dresser near the door.

Seems I’m still a particularly bad liar.

I can’t take this. “You know, Ian, I’ve spent so much time wishing things could go back to the way they were when it was just the three of us, before all of this. I never wanted this, Ian. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten over him yet, and I’m sorry I had to stand in that delivery room and help deliver your son as another woman gave birth to him. I’m sure you can see how hard this is for me. You’re not helping right now.”

“What do you need?” he asks. “We’ve been living like this for two years. What can I do to help you?” His face is tense, concerned.

“Space. I just need some time and some space. I just need everyone to stop pushing me.”

“Fine.”

I pull my arms in front of me, making it apparent that I was in fact reminiscing over an old shirt. “Thanks,” I whisper.

“Andie?” Ian’s face seems to waver between concern and annoyance, the furrow in his brow returning to smooth skin just a moment after it appears.

“Yeah.”

“Be careful.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Crane. You keep stomping on his toes… he’s not going to take it much longer. I’m surprised he’s dealt with you this long.”

I wasn’t expecting that from him. “I know, Ian. Let me deal with Crane. I’ve dealt with him on my own for years.”

“I know.” I hear him tap his fingers one last time. “I’ve seen what he’s done to you.”

I don’t want to talk about what he’s done to me. I have other plans for this day. “Ian?” I ask.

“What?”

“Can you get the kids when they’re done with class? There’s something I have to do.”

He eyes me warily. “Yeah. Sure. Anything you need.”

“Thanks.”

He leaves the room.

I stand still, waiting to hear him walk out the door before I head for the door myself, taking the shirt with me. Something catches my eye on the dresser as I pass it. I stop, looking at the top of the dresser which is usually bare. Except for now, right now, where Ian’s hand was resting, is a gold ring. I reach out and touch it. It’s my wedding band. I don’t know where he found it. I only remember not having it anymore. I can’t even remember when it went missing. I unclasp the necklace from around my neck and thread the chain through the ring. It makes a small clang as it falls against the owl charm Adam gave me. I re-clasp the necklace and straighten my shoulders.

Now I have one thing left to do: I have to end this affair with a T-shirt.

Leaving the room, shirt in hand, I head for the tool shed. As I get closer I can hear someone is in there shooting. I slip in the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. Sam stands at the far end of the building, his stance rigid as he demolishes the target in front of him. I reach for the wall, pulling a shovel from its resting place, then sneak out the door and head for the fields.

Standing in front of Adam’s gravestone with the freshly disturbed earth at my feet, I think to myself that maybe I should have done this a long time ago. Maybe it would have made forgetting him easier. Still, I’m not sure if I want to forget him, all of him. I never even got to say goodbye, or thank you for saving my life, for giving me Raven. I pull his shirt from the waist of my jeans. I stare at it, wanting to press it to my face so badly even though I know it’s not going to help. I know it will just keep things the way they are, with me unable to move on.

I toss the shirt in the shallow hole I just dug. “Goodbye, Adam.” I tell the chiseled gray granite. With each shovel-full of dirt the shirt becomes less visible. The soft fabric wilts under the weight of the earth until I can see it no more.

Moving on should be easier, now that I’ve buried his T-shirt and the temptation to relive the short time I had with him.

chapter nine

“I don’t want to meet you anymore,” I tell Dr. Akiyama. I’m tired of these twice-weekly sessions.

He looks up at me, bored with my declaration. “And why is that, Andromeda?” he asks with a frown.

“I asked you to call me Andie.”

“Okay, Andie, why don’t you want to participate in these sessions any longer?”

“Because I have too much going on. Raven is two, Lina is carrying a heavier course load, I have Astrid living with us, and there are Residents that need to be paired. I don’t have the time to drive here and meet with you.”

“You must uphold the values of the District, of the Sovereign-”

“I know,” I grumble at him. “I have.”

“Crane suggests we meet until you’ve made progress.”

“I have!” I practically shout at him.

He slaps his notebook closed. “Tell me about your progress.” He folds his hands in his lap, his face takes on an open expression, his eyebrows raised just slightly so. “Well?”

“I…” I try to think about the progress we’ve made over the past two years.

“Do you speak to Ian?”

“Yes.”

“In complete sentences?”

“Mostly.”

“Are you letting him help you around the house?”

“Sometimes he gets the kids from school, when I need him to.”

“Are you affectionate towards each other?”

I feel my body stiffen, it’s almost an unconscious reaction.

“I see,” Dr. Akiyama responds before I can say anything. “You still refuse to come here with him. How do you expect to make a real progress in your marriage? You can’t live like this forever. Don’t you think two years of living like this is enough? Perhaps it’s time to move on.”

“I know.” I don’t tell him that I buried my temptations in front of Adam’s gravestone. At lease I have been able to let those memories go and move on with my life.

“There was a time,” Dr. Akiyama gazes towards the ceiling as he speaks. I’ve seen him do this before, he’s storytelling, “When this District was in its infancy and I remember a very brave young woman whom I had to stitch together on her dining room table.” He pauses and looks directly at me. “And I remember there was a man at her side who held her hand, and changed her bandages-”

“Stop,” I tell him. “I don’t want to remember that. I don’t want to remember Adam. He’s dead. He’s buried. I’m done.”

“What you fail to see is that you had two men in your life that cared very much for you and they’ve changed places. One has died and one remains alive. And the one who remains alive looks just like Adam did when he speaks of you and looks at you.”

“Please, just stop, Doctor-”

“I will stop when you stop pushing away those who care deeply about you. This is not a path you can travel alone. Maybe you thought you could do it when it was just yourself and Lina, but you have two children now, and another little girl who is as close to being another child to you as any. Am I right?”

I nod at him.

“So, Andie, when you are done pushing your partner away and make an attempt-”

“I have-” I start, but he holds his palm up to silence me.

“More than just a few sentences, a real attempt at having a life together. He has been trying, you have not. Don’t you worry that he’s going to give up at some point, and then where will you be, living like this forever? It’s been two years, which means it’s time to hold a conversation, it’s time to share duties, and it’s time to move on. You know Crane won’t wait forever for you, I’m surprised he’s waited this long.”

“Wait for what?” I feel my face twist in question.

“You will find out, soon enough.”

I shake my head at the threat. “I have made some progress.”

“What?”

“I buried his shirt.”

“Who’s shirt?”

“Adams. I had an old shirt of his that I was hanging on to. It smelled like him. Anyway, I buried it at his gravesite.”

Dr. Akiyama flips to a page in his notebook and jots something down.

chapter ten

Crane’s office looks like the office of an accountant or an engineer, with the maps and the stacks of paper laid out on the tables, not a crazed man who’s working on taking over the world. It’s gray, and boring, everything neatly organized, chairs spaced perfectly apart. I’d like to move one, tip it to the side just-so, so he can see the indent in the carpet.

“You need to go to Crystal River,” Crane tells me.

Startled, I focus back on him. “No. I don’t think so.” I shake my head at him.

“It’s been two years. Morris won’t last much longer. You need to finish.”

I think of what happened. The tour he sent me on, all the lessons I had to learn. “And my children?”

“They will be safe with Ian.”

“Who’s bringing me?”

“Colonel Salk.” Crane smiles.

“Are you sure he’s ready?”

“He’s ready. You should have more faith in your little brother.”

“I have plenty of faith in Sam. You have no qualms with having a married couple in the Committee?” I ask him. I don’t like what he’s doing, that he’s included so much of my family into this.

“Actually, it’s perfect. What a better way to show the Residents what we are trying to create here. Why, you two are the perfect example. You work together, go home together, raise the next generation of Sovereign together. There’s no space for a wandering eye, no space for secrets.” He folds his hand on the desk in front of him.

“I don’t like this.”

“You don’t like much of what is required of you.”

I simply stare at him. He’s wearing a red tie. I still hate the color red.

“You’ve changed, Andromeda.” He’s only the second person in a matter of days to tell me this.

“What do you mean?” I ask him.

“Well, your poor attitude is still the same, although it seems to come and go these days. You’re different. I can’t quite place my finger on it.”

“What were you expecting, Crane? You think you could do what you’ve done to me and expect me to stay the same?”

“No. I’m sure you’ve figured it out that we’ve been grooming you for something more. But, something is off with you.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Have you rekindled your relationship with your husband?”

“That is most certainly none of your business.” I glare at him.

“Hmm,” he responds, moving his hands to his chin.

“When do I leave?” I ask, trying to get as far away from the subject of my relationship with Ian as possible.

“Two days.”

I try to hide my gasp. Only two days. Two days to prepare myself and my family. I am suddenly filled with an overwhelming need to get the hell away from Crane.

“I’m going to see Morris,” I tell him.

“That would be a good idea.”

I practically run out of Crane’s office. I take the stairs, afraid the elevator might take too long. I head for my vehicle, not taking a full breath until I’ve reached the safety inside. He always oversteps his boundaries, but asking if Ian and I have rekindled our relationship, that’s just too much, it’s too personal. Of course, it’s been long enough, we should have rekindled something by now. I should at least be able to touch him, or hug him, or something, but I just can’t bring myself to, and I’m not sure why. I thought burying the last bit of Adam, his old T-shirt, might help, but it just hasn’t yet.

I start the SUV and drive to the hospital where Morris is now residing. When I reach his room, I pull a chair next to Morris’s bedside. He’s sleeping; his breaths slow, steady. I count them, making sure they are at a normal rate. I can hear him rasp with each inspiration. The skin around his lips is tinged blue. I reach forward and turn up his oxygen flow. When I sit back down his eyes are open.

“Morris?” I ask.

“Yes.” He licks his lips. I hold a cup of water with a straw to his mouth. He drinks. “Much better,” he tells me when he’s done.

“How are you, Morris?”

“Old, ready to die.”

I close my eyes. The thought of him dying, of being gone from this earth, just like Adam, just like half our population, it chills me. Whatever bad things he did, all the evil decisions he took part in making, it still hurts. I don’t want him to be gone, he is my mentor here. He’s saved me from Crane more than once, and I’m not sure I could save myself from the bullshit Crane pulls.

“Please don’t say that.” I tell Morris.

“It’s going to happen. Soon, Andromeda. Are you prepared for my death?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He reaches out, laying his hand on mine. It feels cool, rubbery. Our conversations have gotten more morbid and dark since he was admitted to the hospital. It’s the reason why I don’t visit him as much. His teachings are done, and I can’t take the death talk.

“You just need to be ready to take my place.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that.”

He gives my hand a weak pat. “So, you’re going to Florida?” he changes the subject.

“Yes, to finish my training I’m told.”

“You will. Finish that is.”

“I don’t want to.”

“We know.”

I pull my hands away from him and set them in my lap. “You do?”

“Of course I do. Don’t worry. Their problem is simple. I have faith that you will solve it quickly.”

“That’s a problem with you people.”

“What,” he asks.

“You have far too much faith in me.”

He reaches out, placing his wrinkled, shaking hand over mine. He squeezes it, just a bit. “We have just the right amount of faith in you.” He closes his eyes.

I wait in silence as he falls asleep before I remove his hand from mine and tuck it under his blanket.

--

Today I make my arrangements before I leave.

When I reach the kitchen I’m surprised to find Ian already awake. He smiles, and holding a cup of coffee out for me he says, “Good morning.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, turning to sit. I stop when I see what looks like a piece of round wood on the table where I usually sit. “What is that?” I ask.

“A gift.” Ian walks up next to me, sipping at his cup of coffee, looking at the object on the table.

“For who?” I ask.

“You.”

I reach forward, touching the piece of wood. It’s a dark cherry wood. The width of a small tree trunk and about four inches tall, the growth rings are visible through the glossy finish. When I run my fingers over the smooth top it moves to the side, revealing a velvet lined space.

“It’s a jewelry box,” Ian tells me.

“Oh,” I reply, picking it up and removing the lid.

“Do you know what today is?” he asks me.

I stop admiring the box as a flurry of dates rush through my memory. I’m hoping it’s not something important, like our wedding anniversary…

Ian doesn’t give me long to contemplate before he speaks again. “It’s your birthday, Andie. Happy birthday.”

“Is this from you?” I ask, setting the box down.

“Yeah, I made it.” He sits next to me.

I run my fingers over the top again. “It’s beautiful. But, I don’t have much jewelry.”

“You have some.” He looks at the necklace around my neck which holds the owl charm from Adam and my wedding band that I still haven’t been able to put back on my finger.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“You forgot. Didn’t you?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.

Truthfully, I haven’t thought about my birthday since this started. I never sat down and added the years. I was always too focused on keeping Lina safe and happy, and completing the tasks assigned to me. “I guess I did,” I admit.

“It’s kind of a big one, Andie. It’s your thirtieth birthday.”

Now the numbers add up. I was twenty-six when this all started, thinking I had a handle on my life, counting my accomplishments, doing my best to carve out a quiet life for my family. Now look at me, four years have flown by, our lives changed. No wonder I stopped keeping track.

“Thanks.” He smiles and takes another sip of his coffee. “I have to leave tomorrow,” I remind him.

He nods. “What will you do there, in Florida?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure,” I tell him. “It’s kind of like a surprise, a test. They don’t tell me until I get there and then there is usually some underlying problem I have to figure out on my own.”

“And if you pass this test?”

I shrug my shoulders at him. I don’t want to tell him the truth. “Then we’ll be safe.”

“That’s it?” he asks. “We’ll be safe.”

“Let’s just say my rank will be higher than Sovereign.”

“A Funding Entity then?”

“How do you know about that?” I ask. I turn and look into his dark brown eyes. Crane made it clear that we weren’t allowed to speak of the Funding Entities or who they were.

“Crane mentioned them to me. Just, how do you become a Funding Entity?” he asks squinting his eyes in thought. “You have no money to fund anything. Actually, none of us have money anymore.”

I tap the side of my head. “It’s about more than money now. Intellectual property maybe.”

“Because of what you do with the genetic information, the pairings.”

“Yeah. Crane thinks that makes me special or something.”

Ian spins his mug on the table, thinking. “But someone had to pay for all of this. You don’t just take over entire countries without some financials.”

“That’s an answer few people know and they’re not allowed to talk about it.”

“You know, don’t you?” he asks me.

“Don’t,” I warn him. “That’s information I never wanted and I never want to relay to another person.”

“You don’t want to tell me?”

“Sure I do. I just can’t. Not yet at least.”

“Not yet? Then when?”

“When I die.”

“Don’t say that.” He sets the coffee mug down on the table after taking a sip.

“It’s the truth,” I tell him. “These people have their own little laws and guidelines.”

“You mean the Manifesto?”

I shake my head at him. “The Manifesto is for the Residents and Sovereign. The other people who organized this, their rules seem to shift and change with the wind. But they all seem to have one thing in common.”

“What’s that?”

“They’re all afraid of Burton Crane.”

Our conversation is interrupted by the sound of the children padding down the hall, headed for the kitchen. I turn to make them breakfast, realizing that I just had a conversation with Ian. A real conversation. I said more than one full sentence to him. I did more than simply answer a few questions. I held a perfectly normal conversation.

Hearing him washing his mug in the sink, I turn to look at him. He smiles at me, probably with the same realization which I have just had.

“I’m headed to work,” he tells me. “See you tonight.”

As though I’ve used up my daily allowance worth of words for the day, I simply nod at him and watch as he pats the children on their heads and walks out the door.

“How would you like some honey in your milk?” I ask the children.

“No hot cocoa?” Lina asks.

“She said we used the last of it yesterday, remember?” Astrid asks Lina in her hushed voice.

I warned them that we were running out. And the way things are, with the last of our stock from the last run outside of the gates almost gone, I’m not sure when we will see cocoa again. I think Alexander was hiding the last of it just for us. Soon it will be the coffee.

“Honey then?” I ask, placing bread into the oven to toast it.

I warm the milk in a pan, adding a few spoons of the honey Elvis got from a beehive behind the barn. Bringing the mugs to the table, I set them in front of the children and sit down with my coffee.

“Remember,” I start, “how I told you I needed to go on a trip and that you were going to have to stay here?”

“Yes,” Lina replies with a pout.

Astrid looks between us confused. Raven pouts his lips at me just like his sister.

“Well, tonight I have to go on a trip with Uncle Sam. I’ll be leaving for a few days and then I will be back.”

“Who will take care of us?” Astrid asks, her eyes widening with panic.

I reach out and squeeze her shoulder. “Ian will be here to take care of you all.” The timer on the stove dings. I stand, pull the toast from the stove and spread blueberry jam on it. Then I return to the table and pass out the plates. The children eat.

“You won’t forget about us, will you?” Lina asks, her mouth full of bread and crumbs falling out onto the floor for Stevie to clean up.

My breath catches in my throat. “Lina,” I reply, forcing the air from my lungs. “I will never forget about you.” I reach forward and brush her hair out of her face. “It’s only for a few days. I’ll be back before you know it. I won’t forget any of you. I’ll be back. I promise.”

--

“Are you ready?” Sam asks.

We’re standing in the hallway, by the front door. He’s dressed in full Volker uniform. He looks authoritative. Much too authoritative to be my little brother.

“I’ll never be ready,” I tell him as my eyes drift to the pin on his shoulder. It’s a small metallic bird; a phoenix. “Just a sec.”

I rush down the hall, pushing open the door to my room. I walk to Raven’s crib. He’s sleeping, but I still lean in and kiss him. Next, I head to Lina’s room. Stevie raises her head from the foot of the bed. I pet her as I pass. I kiss Lina and pull the covers up to her chin. I turn around to find Astrid mostly uncovered, her hair covering her face, her leg hanging off the bed. I move her legs and tuck her in, smooth her hair out of her face.

Stevie whines. I move to pat her head. “Stay with Lina,” I tell her as I close the door and head for the hallway where Sam waits for me.

The last time I left, we at least had a backup plan to get Lina out of here. Sam was prepared and ready to run with her. Now things have changed. Sam is leaving with me, and I have two children and a husband. I don’t think Ian realizes how bad Crane actually is.

Ian stands next to Sam as I walk towards them and I get the feeling I’ve interrupted them.

“Ready now?” Sam asks.

“No, but let’s go,” I tell him. I don’t want to leave. I’ll never be ready to leave my children behind and run off on some horrid training crusade that Crane has planned. I guess it could be worse, he could be sending me to Tonopah. I could have to deal with that psychopath Sakima again.

Sam reaches for my bag. He looks expectantly at me and Ian, raising his eyebrows. “Watch over them, Ian.” I tell him as Sam walks out the door.

“I will,” Ian replies with a thick voice.

“No,” I turn, “make sure Crane doesn’t come near them. He’s always lurking in the shadows waiting for me to be gone so he can pull some bullshit.”

“I’ll watch them,” Ian promises.

“I’m serious, Ian. You don’t know what I went through to get you all back. The things I had to do.” I killed a man in cold-blood and then Adam tried to save me and Raven, and died. I don’t tell him that though. I’m sure it’s nothing he wants to hear right now. And to be truthful, I don’t want him thinking any less of me right now.

He places his hand on my arm. I look down at it as though someone has thrown a meatball there. He hasn’t touched me since he showed up here. He hasn’t touched me in two years. Of course, I haven’t touched him either. We just started having full conversations, can’t rush this.

“Everything will be fine,” he tells me in a smooth soft voice.

“I hope,” I tell him. “I’m trusting you with them.”

He steps forward, his tall frame bending down, and I feel my body stiffen as he wraps his arms around me. I know I should do something, maybe hug him back, but I can’t move.

“See you in a few days,” he tells me as he releases me.

I simply nod at him, then turn and run out of the house.

Sam is waiting in the driveway. I get in the passenger side of his vehicle.

“Wow,” he says, smirking.

“What?”

“You know, you’re not very nice to him. You could have at least given him a chaste kiss on the cheek. You two are married.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

Sam drives. Whoever has been training him has already shown him how to find the platform and how to run the train.

We load the train ourselves. Me, Sam, two Guardians, that’s it. The train feels strange, empty. The Volker at the platform salute Sam. I listen as he gives them orders. It’s strange to see my little brother taking Adam’s place. When he’s done, he steps on the train and starts it. I sit in one of the seats. There is no send-off from Crane or Alexander. No strange winks from Ian.

“Want to get some rest?” Sam asks me, motioning to the sleeping bunks.

There’s no way I can go back there and remember everything, again. “I’m fine,” I tell Sam.

“You sure? We’ll be there by morning. You can rest. I’ve got this,” he tells me confidently as he flips switches and checks gauges on the dash.

“I’m sure you do, Sam. But I’d rather die than step foot in those sleeping bunks.”

He nods, giving me a look of understanding. I know he doesn’t truly understand, but he saw what I was like when I came back from the tour: sick, seizing, exhausted from what Crane had put us through.

Now, here I am again, headed outside the gates of the Phoenix District. It’s been two years. I doubt much has changed. The United States is still in ruins, according to Crane. The Survivors are still struggling, according to Crane. I find it odd that such a skeleton crew is being sent off, especially as this is Sam’s first time out. But since I’m sure Crane no longer wants me dead, he must think Sam is competent to be sending us off alone. I rest my head against the wall of the engine car and close my eyes, forcing myself to sleep and not think about what awaits us in Crystal River.

--

Sam doesn’t have to wake me up. The sultry Florida air does the job as it permeates the engine car. I stretch my neck, trying to work out the stiffness and move to stand next to Sam.

“Up already?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I look around the engine car to find the Guardians sleeping in the corners. “How much do you know about Crystal River?” I ask Sam.

“Alexander debriefed me,” he tells me.

“That was nice of him.” No updates for me, though. This is nothing new, the Entities like to keep me in the dark.

“Sam,” I warn him. “Don’t eat the manatee.”

“Who eats manatee?

“The Residents here do.”

“Aren’t they endangered?”

“I’m guessing not any longer.”

I watch through the window as Sam slows the train. The fence opens and we pull up to the train platform. Two years ago was the last time I was here. And it was storming like nothing I’ve ever seen. Should have taken that as a sign.

Thankfully, we didn’t come during hurricane season this time. Emanuel Torres and Colonel Ramirez meet us on the platform. They smile when they see me. I do my best to smile back.

“Welcome back,” Torres tells me in his familiar thick Spanish accent, shaking my hand. Ramirez does the same.

“I’d like to introduce you to Colonel Salk,” I tell them, holding my hand out towards Sam.

Torres and Ramirez greet him, both with hearty handshakes. Torres smiles, Ramirez does not.

I look around. The last time I was here the place was in shambles. Their population was low, they didn’t even have their fence completed. Crystal River was the last District to be set up. And when we were here two years ago, it was a disaster. Their borders were not secure, their population was dwindling. And then I ate the manatee. I remember nothing else.

Now, I turn my head towards the chain-link fence, hearing the hum from the electricity that runs through it.

“How was your trip here?” Torres asks, eyeing Sam.

“Fast,” I tell him. “Ramirez, perhaps you could show Colonel Salk around since this is his first visit.”

Sam and Ramirez head off and I follow Torres into Headquarters. Everything looks the same as when I left. There’s still a short building with the wide porch that’s used for their Headquarters here. It still looks like an old town hall. There are still Volker guarding the door; they open it for us. The hallways are still sparse, empty. Torres opens the door to their Committee meeting room.

The rest of the Crystal River District Development Commission are there: Richard Ruiz, still looking like an overdressed banker, Mateo Pena and Javier Vega, still looking like they could be related with their tan skin and dark hair and eyes. I notice Javier’s glasses are now being held together on the side with a piece of white tape.

“Thank you for coming back,” Emanuel starts.

“You don’t need to thank me,” I tell him. “I didn’t come here willingly. I’m sure that’s no surprise. So, Emanuel, tell me what your problem is here.”

“Well.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Colonel Waters helped us secure the boundaries when you were here last.” He pauses, hesitant.

“Colonel Waters is no longer with us,” I inform him.

“I am aware. Sorry,” he says curtly.

“Cut to the chase, Emanuel. What’s your problem here? Your boundaries are secure, you all look well fed, what’s the issue?”

“You’re right, we are well fed, and that’s because our population has dwindled even lower.”

“How many?” Last time there were only two hundred residents.

“Less than one hundred,” he replies.

“Any children?”

“No.”

I look to Richard, Mateo, and Javier. They watch me in anticipation. I know that a few of the other Districts are bursting at their seams, while this one is empty.

“What happened to them all?” I ask.

“Malaria, and…” he pauses. “Alligators.”

I guess I deserved that pause. Last time I openly mocked him for losing so many people to alligators.

“Have you let any Survivors in?” I ask.

“No,” Emanuel replies.

“Has anyone found your boundaries?”

“No,” he replies again.

“And why is the malaria so rampant here?” I ask not so nicely.

Richard clears his throat. “We’re no longer allowed to use pesticides,” he tells me.

Emanuel nods in agreement.

“Is this some other rule from the Entities?” I ask.

“Yes,” Emanuel tells me. “We are not to infringe on the wildlife, no matter how pestilent they may be.”

“This is a problem,” I mutter to myself.

The malaria is an ecological problem which I can do nothing about. But I can do one thing. Crystal River needs Residents and I know where to get them. From the same place the Tonopah District got them, from outside the gates. Let’s get this over with quickly.

“Is your nuclear reactor up to full power?” I ask.

Emanuel tips his head. “Yes.”

“Has all the power been diverted to your fence?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Because, Emanuel, we’re going outside the gates. We’re going to find you some new Residents.”

He smiles. I don’t like his crooked smile just now. I don’t trust it. It’s like I just told him exactly what he wanted to hear. “You think it’s worth the risk, to go out there and find people to bring back?”

“What other option do you have, Emanuel?”

“Crane won’t want you outside the gates with the feral Survivors, you’re too important to him. He’s already lost one important member of his team.”

“Well, we’re out of choices for this place. What’s the motto? Failure is not an option.”

Just then the door opens. Sam and Ramirez walk in.

“Failure isn’t an option,” Emanuel responds. “But bringing in new Residents, going out to find new Residents, it’s risky.”

“Where do you expect to get them from?” I ask.

I know there are other Districts that are flooded with Residents, already assimilated Residents. But I’m not about to contact Crane and ask him to send people.

Sam raises his hand to interrupt. “What happens when you bring these new people back here? What then? What if they don’t cooperate?” Sam asks.

“They will be medicated,” Emanuel answers.

“Still, we go out there,” Ramirez starts. “We risk our people, what little people we have left, and when we get them back here we risk an uprising.”

“That won’t happen,” I assure him.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because if there’s one thing I learned in Tonopah, the medication combined with the strong desire to survive at all costs overrides everything. A speech to unite the new Residents won’t be necessary, they will trust anyone.”

The room is silent, each man contemplating this plan in his heads.

“Do you have one of those magical lists?” I ask Emanuel.

“Yes,” he replies, giving me a hard look.

It’s the list of people they didn’t have time to pull from society before the bombings. Each District has one. They use it to find new Sovereign, who will enrich their population. We aren’t to speak of the list.

“What’s the plan?” Ramirez asks.

“Let’s start today. Get supplies ready, houses in order, what’s left of your medical team.”

“How will you know where to look?” Javier asks, adjusting his glasses. “Are you just planning on searching the woods, the abandoned cities, the swamps?”

“They don’t need to,” Emanuel tells us as he makes way for the computer. He sits and types a few things into the laptop. “Come here. All of you.”

We walk to where Emanuel sits. Standing behind him, I look at the computer screen and see an image of North America. As Emanuel scrolls with the computer controls, the screen zooms in over Florida to give a bird’s-eye view. He moves the screen to the West, stopping over a cleared area. I make out the train instantly.

“Is this live?” I ask.

“Yes,” he responds.

“How?” Javier asks, placing his hand on the table and leaning closer to the desk.

“The satellites still circle the earth,” he tells us. “They are still live, they still run, and some of us still have access to them.”

I glimpse at Sam, whose forehead is currently wrinkled in thought. Emanuel just relayed a potent piece of information. With his revelation, and his deceptiveness to his own people, he must be an Entity. Who else would have this ability and keep it from the Sovereign for years?

Javier walks to a filing cabinet and pulls out a large map. He rolls it out on the table. Emanuel spins the laptop around, so we can all see the screen. Ramirez pulls the top off a red marker.

“I guess the first decision is whether to go by train or by foot?” Ramirez asks.

“By train we are limited to the direction we can go,” Sam speaks up. “The tracks only connect the Districts. They don’t meander around the states.”

“Even if we tried to use the old tracks,” Mateo speaks up, “we run the risk of getting stuck if the tracks were damaged in the bombings.”

“We could use the train, and scour a radius around the tracks, that would make it easier to get people back here,” Sam suggests.

“Let’s see what we can see,” Emanuel tells us. He moves the screen north along the tracks, he scrolls out so we can see a twenty-mile radius. There’s nothing. No houses, no trails, no movement. Just nothing.

“Make the radius larger,” Ramirez urges.

Emanuel scrolls out to a forty-mile radius. We watch the screen for anything.

“What’s that?” Javier asks, pointing at the corner of the screen.

It looks to be a cleared area with a dark figure walking. Emanuel follows the figure. The person walks further north, through tall brush and grass. He zooms in. It’s a man; young, with tan skin, dark hair, a backpack, two dead squirrels hanging off a line attached to his bag, and a knife attached to his belt.

The image is crystal clear. Disturbingly clear. Deceptively clear.

“So,” I ask, on a hunch. “Which one of you worked for NASA? Or was it government intelligence?” Mateo and Javier turn to look at me. “Just you two?” I ask, pointing at them. Emanuel taps his finger on the table. I’ll take that as a yes also.

So, here we have a town Sheriff, three NASA scientists, maybe, and Richard Ruiz, whose background I have yet to figure out, running Crystal River.

I turn my attention back to the computer screen. The man we are following walks across a small stream and slows when he comes to a fence. He climbs, swinging his legs over the short wooden fence. He walks across an overgrown lawn and up to a house. Emanuel scrolls out. We can see what was a small housing development, a cul-de-sac with five houses. We wait and watch as people trickle in and out of the homes. Some seem to stand guard at the opening to the street. There are small gardens and what looks like chickens in a fenced area.

“How many do you think are there?” Ramirez asks.

“Not enough,” I reply.

“It’s a place to start,” Sam says.

“We need more than a few people. We need a few hundred,” I say, watching as Ramirez marks the map where we spotted these people.

Emanuel scrolls in and out, moving to the east. There looks to be a large cluster of people at an old shopping mall. We can see people moving by the glass windows, and milling about in the parking lot.

In another area to the south there’s a camp near a small pond with six tents. He continues searching. Each time we find a cluster of Survivors, Ramirez marks the map. By the time we are done there are just over a dozen marks on the map, the furthest point is almost ninety miles to the south.

“We could use the train to go north,” Ramirez points out.

“Yeah, but what about to the east and south?” Javier asks.

“You have Volker SUV’s here, we could use those,” I suggest.

“What happens if we run out of gas, or get a flat tire?” Sam points out. “Then we’re sitting ducks, drawing attention.”

“And safety?” Richard asks. “What happens if the Survivors don’t want to come, what if they attack, or…”

“We have guns,” I say. “They’ve been picking through the ruins for four years. I doubt they have many weapons.”

“We’ll have to go by foot to pick up people from the east and south,” Sam says.

“That’s a long trek,” Ramirez points out.

“Don’t they have helicopters in the Hanford District?” Richard asks.

“What are you planning on doing? Dropping flyers, Richard? They won’t send a helicopter, and even if they did, we couldn’t use it. That would draw too much attention,” I dismiss his suggestion.

“You think they’ll come with us?” Sam asks.

“What Survivor wouldn’t want a hot shower, a clean house, fresh food? From what I saw in Tonopah, the Survivors were begging to get in their gates,” I tell them.

“So when do we leave?” Ramirez asks.

“How long to get some weapons together and a few supplies?” I ask.

“It’s too late,” Emanuel interrupts. “It’s late afternoon. By the time we get out, even if we get the train to the north, we won’t get to those Survivors until evening or later. I think starting in the morning would be best.”

“I don’t see why we can’t start now. What easier time to make a decision like this when the Survivors are settling down for the night, stomachs empty, fearful for what the night might bring? For what tomorrow might bring?” I respond. The truth is, I’m pushing it. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.

“Say we go tonight; bring back a few Survivors, then what?” Ramirez asks.

“They get fed, assigned houses, test them in the morning when the medication has taken its full effect.”

“Don’t you think we’re moving kind of fast?” Emanuel asks.

“I don’t want to be gone from home any longer than I have to, the sooner we get started the better.” I tell them, all of them. I even make eye contact.

“Okay,” Emanuel agrees, “let’s get moving.”

Ramirez and Sam leave to collect weapons and a crew of Volker.

Javier rolls up the map and leaves the room with Mateo on his heels. I start to follow, but Emanuel stops me, holding his hand out.

“What?” I ask him.

“You’re not going with them,” he tells me, shaking his head.

“Why not?” I argue. “I’m not going to just sit around here and wait. I need to do something.”

“There’s plenty for you to do here.”

“Why are you telling me I can’t go? We’re pretty much equals now.” Well, almost-Morris hasn’t died. I haven’t taken his place. If anything I am acting as his apprentice.

“Not yet, Andie, and I won’t have Crane lunging for my neck if anything happens to you. So you stay here and wait for the men to bring back the Survivors.”

“So what do I do, pace at the gate?”

“No, you get ready for an influx of Survivors to categorize and sample. You’re going to have to analyze their genetic data and pair them when you get home. And you still have a problem to solve here.”

“I’m solving it for you,” I tell him.

“If you think that the lack of Residents is the problem, I’ll give you a hint: it’s not.”

I stare at him. I know their problem is the population. But malaria is also a problem here. But without pesticides I can’t do much about that. Perhaps it’s a combination of the two. I need a bit longer to think. Maybe staying behind is a good idea.

“I think I know what this District’s problem is,” I tell Emanuel. “And it’s not something that can be solved overnight.”

“Then you had better get working on solving it if you want to go home,” he tells me.

--

“You’re not going?” Sam asks me.

“No,” I tell him.

“Good. I didn’t want you to go.”

I focus on the sweat dripping down his neck and into his collar.

“That’s not very nice.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Andie. If we run into trouble I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt either, Sam.”

I brush at the sweat dripping down my own neck from the Florida heat. Sam squeezes my shoulder, a brotherly gesture. I turn and watch Ramirez and a crew of ten Volker load the train with a few bottles of water, and some food and weapons.

“What do you think about the ethical impact of what we are about to do?” Sam asks.

I step back. “Are we in Sociology or something, Sam? You do realize that all ethics flew out the door when a clandestine group of scientists and world leaders decided they were going to restart the human race? I can’t worry about ethics. I can only worry about my family and how I can keep them safe. I worried about ethics once and all it got me was trouble. These are new times, we have to adapt, survival of the fittest has been reenacted. And by the fittest the Entities mean the least ethical, so God help me because I let my ethical concerns fly out the window a long time ago.”

“That was quite a speech.” He raises his eyebrow and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Take your hands out of your pockets, Sam.”

“What?” he asks.

“You are the Volker Sovereign. You don’t raise your hand in Committee meetings, you don’t look at the floor, and you definitely don’t put your hands in your pockets. If you don’t know what to do with your arms, cross them over your chest. You’re six-foot-five for Christ’s sake. It will make you look intimidating. You need people to listen to you. You need to be authoritative. You need to be an asshole.”

“You don’t need to be such a jerk,” he takes a step towards me, scowling.

“Sam, do you really see what’s going on here? What these people are doing? They think they are making everything better, but they are just sending society into the dark ages. Women, men; we are no longer equals. Crane’s project to create genetically submissive humans, that’s no better than slavery.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.” I look up as he towers over me. My hulking, angry brother. “You need to check the attitude, Andie,” he warns. “I want to get out of here too. But pissing everyone off isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

I shrug at him and step back to regain my personal space. “I think you should take one of the Guardians with you,” I tell Sam, changing the subject and watching the two we brought with us as they wander the train platform.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Sam, they’re better guards than the Volker. One already tried to save your life.” I remind him of the incident when he first showed up and tried to protect the children at the Pasture from being tattooed.

“Yeah.” He begins to run his hand through his hair, stopping partway through and crossing his arms. “Maybe you’re right.”

Ramirez steps off the train and waves. “Ready?” he shouts.

Sam waves back. “That’s my cue, Sis. See you in a few hours.”

“Hurry back,” I tell him as he jogs for the engine car. One of the Guardians trots protectively behind him. “I’m sorry I was a bitch,” I mumble under my breath as the train leaves the platform.

“What’s that?” I hear the voice of Richard Ruiz ask from behind me.

“Nothing.” I wave my hand at him, hoping he didn’t hear my pathetic apology. “We need to get the manatee ready and make sure it’s saturated with a full dose of the medication,” I tell him.

“Done,” he tells me, pointing across the parking lot.

I see smoke and people gathered around large-barrel grills. Within moments the scent of grilled manatee makes its way to us. It smells like a delicious bacon hamburger. My mouth waters.

“Don’t eat it this time,” Richard warns.

I narrow my eyes at him. Richard looks at his diamond-studded watch. “Well, looks like we should get you ready to greet the Survivors,” he tells me.

“I don’t need to get ready.”

“We need to get your supplies and your list. You know, the magical list, as you called it.” He winks at me.

Richard Ruiz is a Funding Entity. He has to be.

“Don’t wink at me,” I warn him. “It’s creepy.”

Richard throws his head back and laughs into the afternoon sun. He unbuttons the top three buttons of his dress shirt and removes his tie as he catches his breath. “Crane keeps warning us that you have a bad attitude.” He uses the tie to wipe at his eyes. “But I really just think he doesn’t get your humor.”

I cross my arms over my chest just like I told Sam he should do. But at my height it does nothing to make me look intimidating. It barely gets Richard to stop laughing.

“Okay, okay, let’s get going. We have to get the list and swabs for your samples.” He starts walking towards Headquarters, waving for me to follow him.

--

It’s well past evening when Richard opens the door to the committee room. “Train’s coming,” he tells me.

I pick up the box of swabs, the list and notebook, the cooler with the snap-freeze ice packs, and follow Richard out of Headquarters. Three Guardians tag along. We follow the tracks past the platform, spanning the few hundred yards until we make it to the cement wall. The air is saturated with the scent of grilled manatee. My stomach growls. Richard pulls out a set of keys and unlocks the gate leading to the open area between the cement wall and the electrified fence.

“No electronic touch pad?” I ask him. That’s what we have in the Phoenix District, a touch pad with a code to open it.

“Too humid down here,” he tells me. “Corrodes the electronics.”

“So who gets the key to the outside?” I ask.

“Those who are chosen,” he answers nonchalantly, as if it weren’t a problem that everyone is locked inside. But that’s what it’s like in all the Districts; no one in, no one out. Unless there are special circumstances, like a lack of Residents or a Sovereign who needs to learn a few lessons.

“They’re not bringing the Survivors to the platform?” I ask.

“No, it’s easier to be out here if something happens, if they rebel. Easier to contain them near the perimeter of the district,” he tells me. “And force them back out.”

I stand next to Richard and watch as the train pulls up. My stomach fills with an uneasy feeling. I’m nervous, afraid of whom they’ve brought back. If they’ve brought back anyone at all.

My thoughts drift back in time to Tonopah, when Sakima showed me his assembly of Sovereign who sit at their gates all day to judge who will enter and who will be thrown back out. I didn’t want to see it then. And I definitely don’t want to take part in it now. But I don’t really have a choice now, do I? This job Crane wants me to do, these tasks I have to perform, I don’t do them willingly. I do them to keep my children safe, to keep the ones I love safe. I play Crane’s twisted game because I know that Morris will die and then I might have a tiny chance at changing something. Still, I’d like nothing more than to retreat home and raise my children in peace. To grow old and gray and help them become better people. Better than what I have turned into.

Sam and Ramirez jump down from the engine car. They head to the rear cargo areas, sliding them open. A Volker stands near each door helping the Survivors get down. There are three train cars with people that don’t seem to be full. But still, it seems like many more than we planned on finding tonight.

The Survivors trail out of the train, with their gaunt faces, their tattered clothes, the children with their bellies distended in hunger. They look tired, hungry, and desperate. They look like they came from some third world country. But then, that’s what our Great Nation has been reduced to. I remember the commercials on the television, when we had television: Just a penny a day could feed one child…

We have no money, no currency. We get paid with protection, food, and clothes in exchange for doing a job, whatever job has been assigned to us.

Third-world countries. With all their poverty and disease and social injustices. That sparks an idea. I remember a tiny morsel of information about those third world countries. A great majority of the African and South American population developed a way to survive malaria infections, or at least their bodies did. They had a genetic blood disorder in which their blood cells became malformed, sickle-shaped. It was those people who carried the trait, instead of affliction with the full disease, who were less susceptible to the disease of malaria. Those people survived.

My focus shifts. I gaze at the Survivors, searching for skin color, features, accents, anything to tell me that these Survivors might have African or South American ancestry. The Volker line the Survivors up. A single line. I take their name, their previous occupation, swab their cheek, label the sample, and place it in the cooler.

As they pass through the gate a Volker leads them to the parking lot where workers are handing out plates heaped with manatee. I glance once and then turn away, not wanting to see what Sakima told me was his favorite part of assimilating the Survivors.

“It’s quite impressive. The chosen get cleaned, provided with clothing, tested, assigned duties and living quarters. They get their first meal also. It’s very interesting to watch. The transformation these people go through, the look in their eyes when they are handed a plate of warm food, and how the food changes them, returns them to civility.” That’s what he told me.

Their first meal, their first dose of Halcyon, it will permeate their brain, it will make them cooperate. I continue with my task, trying to numb that part of my brain and my soul that’s screaming at me how wrong this is.

--

It’s our second day of scouting for new Residents.

Today the men went out on foot headed east. Sam and Ramirez lead the way with a Guardian and two other Volker. They are headed towards the shopping mall and the small camp near the pond.

I keep myself busy and try not to spend too much time thinking of home. I categorize the new Residents samples, preparing them for travel back to Phoenix where Kira, my lab manager, can analyze them. Then it will be simple, searching the data for the sickle-cell gene and breeding it throughout the new population. That should solve their problem. Of course, I will also have to work the subordinate gene into the Resident population.

Emanuel and Richard leave me alone in the committee room to do my work. I stare at the computer, wanting to call home. Until finally, I do. I select the Phoenix icon and wait. Not long after the screen lights up and the image of Burton Crane comes into focus.

“Ah, Andromeda.” He smiles at me. “What a pleasant surprise. How are things in the sunny Crystal River District?”

“Great,” I reply as sarcastically as possible.

“To what do I owe this call?”

I force a breath, preparing myself for one of those moments where I let my guard down and tell Crane exactly what I want. “I’m calling to check on my family.”

“You miss them already?” he asks with his smug smile.

“You know I do.”

“Why it’s barely been a full day.”

“Just tell me how they are. That’s all I want. I need to know.”

“They are fine. I even gave your husband the next few days off from his duties at the nuclear plant until you return.” He overemphasizes the term your husband.

I nod at him, forcing out the words, “Thank you.”

“I believe you have never said those two words to me before.” He raises his right eyebrow and tips his head to the side.

“Don’t get used to it,” I mumble.

There is a moment of silence as I stare at the wall behind Crane’s head, and I’m sure he’s looking at me. “Are you solving their problems?” he asks.

“I think so.” I tell him. “A team went out last night and today to search for Survivors.”

“So that is your plan?” he asks. “Simply repopulate the District?”

“No,” I tell him. “Since the malaria is so rampant down here I think it would be a good idea to breed the sickle cell trait throughout the District.” I watch as Crane smiles at my plan.

“Make them good and hearty,” he tells me. “That’s what we want, healthy Residents.” I hold my mouth closed, wanting so badly to say something back to him about how he just referred to these people as though they were a stew we were cooking for dinner. Thick in the head and hearty in the health. I shudder a little. “Will I hear from you again, Andromeda?”

“I’m not sure,” I tell him, pressing my lips together in slight disgust.  “Goodbye,” I tell him suddenly and turn the video feed off, no longer able to look at his speckled face.

--

On the third day the men return.

I hear a whistle from outside Headquarters, followed by the rush of running footsteps. Emanuel raises his head; he’s sitting across the Committee room table from me. We both get up. I collect my box of supplies and we exit the building.

The Volker are making their way towards the gate. We follow them. I skip a few steps, trying to keep up, eager to see Sam, hoping that he has returned safely.

I run up behind Richard, who is at the gate sorting keys. As I stand a few yards away, trying to catch my breath, I look past him. Sam and Ramirez look tired and dirty. The Survivors that stand behind them look even worse. Desperate people, following a pied piper with hopes and dreams of a better life, a better future.

But isn’t that how our country first started out? Seems we’ve gone full-circle in this attempt to re-vamp humanity. I wonder if Crane’s realized this yet. I wonder if the other Entities have realized this.

--

“Name?” I ask the father of the family of five that stands in front of me.

“Jackson,” he answers.

“Ages and previous occupation,” I ask, flipping through my list of missing and desired Sovereign. I stop when I find their surname. They’re on the list, they are predetermined Sovereign.

“Pediatrician, forty-two. My wife is forty. She was an endocrinologist.” I raise my head and stop writing. This family is an easy in. I scan their faces, noting their dark skin. Perfect. “We have two daughters, ages ten and fourteen. And three sons, age sixteen, eight and two.”

I look at the family standing in front of me, realizing that I only count four children. Two boys and two girls.

“Where’s your other child?” I ask.

The mother reaches behind her back and leads a toddler out. I smile at him. He smiles back. His eyes squinting, his cheeks plump. It’s when he stops smiling I notice that his ears are too low, his eyes spaced a little too far apart, his tongue pushes against his teeth, a little too large for his mouth. This child has Down’s syndrome. Shit. This family is exactly what Crystal River needs, two doctors, a healthy family that probably carries the sickle cell trait. But Crane’s rules ring in my ears. No genetic defects.

“Has anyone in the family had sickle-cell disease?” I ask them. The father hesitates. “It’s a good thing,” I say.

“My grandmother did,” the mother speaks up, solidifying my speculation.

I focus on the child. “Downs?” I ask softly. The parents nod in agreement. I look at the father, unable to hide the remorse on my face. “We can’t take you,” I tell him. He nods, as though he was expecting my reply. “I know you’re not going to leave your child, but we have to follow the rules.”

“It’s just one extra chromosome,” he pleads with me. “He’s not going to pass that on. He has a heart defect. He may not even live long enough to make it to puberty.” I notice the mother reach out and pull the child to her. I shake my head, angered at myself for enforcing these rules that I hate so much. “If he were your child you wouldn’t leave him behind,” the father tells me.

I remember the speculations from Dr. Akiyama about Raven and his quietness. “No, I never would,” I tell him with utmost truth.

They turn to leave, all of their heads hanging. They will not dine on manatee steak, or be given a home, or fresh clothes, or the safety of the fence. I watch them collect their things, the dirt-stained bags, tattered clothes, empty water bottles. They are going back to whatever hole they crawled out of. They will dine on whatever scraps they can find and that father, with his teenage sons, will do whatever he can to protect his family in the desolate world Crane and the other Entities have created.

I feel horrible. And that’s an understatement. Something clicks as I watch them. I am going to join the ranks of Entity soon and perhaps this could be the first change I make. Not splitting up a family.

“Wait,” I call the father back to me. “You are going to have to hide him or something. These people, they won’t bend the rules. But we need you. We need your family here in this District.”

He nods.

As I hand him a pass, I catch Ramirez out of the corner of my eye, watching me, his hand resting on the assault rifle that’s slung over his shoulder. I wave the family through the line and watch as they walk through the gate to receive their meal. As they pass me with smiles on their faces, my thoughts continue to drift to Tonopah. No wonder the Sovereign are medicated there. I might be able to tolerate the decisions I just made if I were also. But I did a tiny bit of redeeming: I let that child inside. That child with Down’s syndrome. An outlawed child in the eyes of Crane. I’m not sure who will face the worst punishment for him being within the gates: the family, Emanuel, or me? I let them pass after all. I could argue that failure was not an option. We need these people. Perhaps their dedication to their new District will negate their son’s genetic inequality. Not that any of them could have done anything about it. Not that he is less of a person. He smiled at me. And I think it was the first smile I’ve seen from a Survivor.

The rest of the Survivors pass by me in a blur until the last man in line walks towards me. I observe him as he walks to where I am sitting. He’s sweating profusely. More than necessary for this heat and humidity. There’s a tattoo on his neck with long calligraphy letters and the writing continues down onto his arms. I can’t make out what any of it says.

More Volker move to stand behind me, where Ramirez has been standing guard.

“Name and previous occupation?” I ask the man.

“Rico, Rico Smith. I was a mechanic,” he tells me.

I sift through my sheets. There’s a long list of Smith’s, just none matching the first name of Rico.

“Where are you from?” I hear Ramirez ask the man. He’s walking up behind me, closer than he has for any of the other Survivors.

The man named Rico looks towards Ramirez. “South Florida,” he says, looking down as one of our Guardians makes its way towards us.

“What are you doing up here?” Ramirez asks.

“You know, escaping the heat, the bugs. Trying to get away from the Everglades. You wouldn’t believe how bad things are down there,” Rico tells us.

“You sure you were a mechanic?” Ramirez asks.

“No reason to lie, brotha’,” Rico responds.

“You done time?” Ramirez asks.

“That matter?” Rico’s eyes flit between the Volker flanking me.

“Yeah, it does,” Ramirez answers.

Before I have a chance to process what’s occurring I feel one of the Volker pull on my shoulders, pulling me away as the others rush towards Rico. He doesn’t seem to be intimidated with the onslaught of armed men. Instead, he runs forward, towards the gate in the cement wall. A last ditch attempt to make it in, as though he’d be safe once he got inside. The Volker tackle him, pulling him to the ground with an array of grunts and groans.

“District rules,” Ramirez tells Rico. “No convicts, no history of jail time. We made that clear.”

The Volker pull him up by his shoulders and walk him towards the gate at the electrified fence. They force him outside, back into the wilderness.

“Let go of me!” I shake off the Volker who held me back and walk towards Ramirez.

“It’s time for you to go back,” Ramirez tells Rico.

“I got nowhere to go, man,” Rico says. “You saw what it’s like out there.” He points behind him into the overgrown southern forest.

“We can’t help you here,” Ramirez tells him.

“No one can help me now,” Rico says. He has a look about him, a look that warns me he keeps secrets. He knows something.

“What’s going on out there?” I ask him.

Rico smiles with just the one corner of his thin lips. “You ain’t seen it yet? None of ‘em told you yet?”

“No,” I tell him as I walk closer. Ramirez puts his hand out, blocking me from walking too close. I push it away. I know how close I can get before the hum makes my nose bleed. “Do you have something you’d like to tell us?” I ask Rico.

“What are you going to do for me?” Rico asks. “You tossed me out. You want to offer me a warm bed, dinner, a new wife now?”

“We can’t offer you those things, you don’t qualify,” I tell him.

“And the other District, that one in Arizona, will they take me?” he asks.

“None will take you,” I reply.

“So there are more than just these two?” he asks.

“What are you getting at?” Ramirez asks, his tone getting increasingly annoyed.

“Things are happening out here. Bad things. Been going on for years. People been dying, doing crazy things, hunting other people. We’ve got a leader out here too, someone to make decisions,” Rico says.

My stomach rolls in unease. “What are you saying?” I ask.

“He’ll come for you. He’ll try to take over. He’s ruthless.”

“Rico, if that’s your real name, I assure you there is no one more ruthless than the people running these Districts,” I tell him. “Who is he?”

He smiles, a crazed smile, and reaches towards the fence. It hums loudly. “Don’t touch that!” I warn him, reaching out only to be blocked by Ramirez’s arm.

Rico’s chest quakes with a strange laugh. “Don’t matter. Can’t go back there. I’m a dead man either way.”

I watch in horror as he grasps the chain-link fence. There’s an odd gurgling in his throat as the electricity ripples through his body. And the smell is almost worse than the sight as the air fills with the wretched stench of scalding human tissue. I watch as his hand bubbles and blisters. Smoke seems to rise from his singed hair. He drops to the ground, his body still convulsing from the voltage of the fence.

I hear a rustling in the forest. The Volker must hear it too. They walk closer, trying to block me. Someone swings down from a thick tree branch, a young boy. At least he looks like a young boy. Another steps out from behind a tree trunk, this one a young man. And then a third, another young man, stands from under a short bush. They run to Rico’s charred body, grabbing his stained shirt and under his arms, dragging his crisp body off behind the thick row of trees.

We all stand there in a moment of silence. “What the hell just happened?” I ask. “Who were they, the lost boys or something?”

“Don’t know.” Ramirez moves his assault weapon between his hands, readying himself for someone else to come out of the forest.

“Do you think there are more?” I ask. “What if they want in?”

Ramirez never answers because something terrible happens. The humming of the fence lessens and stutters a few times before it goes completely out. There are a few arcs of electricity snapping and stretching across the metal weave of the chain-link fence as the power glitches on and off.

“What happened?” I shout to Ramirez, trying to ignore the hairs rising on my arms.

“Reactor trouble,” he replies with a questioning tone.

Then the sirens start, just like they did when the reactors were running half-power in Phoenix.

chapter eleven

Sam comes running towards me, weapon drawn, eyes scanning the forest beyond the fence.

“What happened?” I ask him.

“Power’s down. I have to get you out of here.”

“Where?”

“Headquarters. Let’s move. Now!”

“Guard the gate!” I yell to the Volker and Ramirez as I turn and run towards Headquarters with Sam at my side and our two Guardians following closely behind us.

I push my way through the new Residents that stand in the parking lot. They hold their plates, chew their manatee, the medication already having its effect. The sirens blaring do not interrupt their current state.

“Emanuel!” I call as I pull open the door to Headquarters.

He steps into the hallway, beckoning me to the Committee room. “Reactor trouble,” he says as soon as we make it through the doorway, confirming my fears.

As Sam and I enter the Committee room, the other members of the Crystal River Sovereign are seated at the table as though they were doing nothing but waiting for us to arrive.

“What are you all doing?” I ask. “Why is the power on in here but not out there?”

“We have a small generator,” Emanuel replies.

“Well, what are you all doing, just sitting around?” I ask.

“We were waiting for you,” Javier responds.

“Yeah, and I’m here. Get the power back on, get the gates back up!” I yell at them. “There are Survivors at the gates. Who’s running your reactor?”

“We don’t have any operators,” Emanuel tells me. “Just technicians to monitor the radiation.”

“Who runs your plant then?”

“There’s a crew in Hanford. They do it remotely.”

“Then get them on the phone,” Sam tells them urgently.

“We did,” Emanuel replies. “They’re looking into it.”

“What?” I ask. “We can’t wait for them to look into it. They need to fix this. Now!” I walk towards the computer on the table, pushing Emanuel to the side as I pass him.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Calling Crane.” I select the Phoenix icon and wait as the image comes into focus. Crane is there, sitting at his desk.

“Andromeda?” he asks, not in the least bit surprised.

This is a test.

“The reactor is down,” I tell him in a hurried rush of words. “Power is off to the perimeter and we’ve got Survivors at the gates.”

“Hmm,” Crane starts. “Survivors at the gates… Did your plan of acquiring new Residents backfire?”

“No, Crane. This is something completely different. We’ve already acquired the new Residents. Except one of them lied and had to be removed from the premises. He touched the fence and fried to a crisp.”

Crane doesn’t answer, his eyes seem to be focused away from the computer screen on something else in his office.

“We can’t wait for Hanford to fix this.”

“I think Hanford is quite capable.”

“Have they ever had their reactor power down?” I ask. “Because if they haven’t, I’m not waiting for them to figure this out.”

“Well then,” Crane says, the corners of his lips starting to upturn. “What would you like to do then?”

I know before the words come out of my mouth. There is one person who fixed our reactor trouble the last time I heard the sirens and that was Ian. “Get Ian.”

Crane smiles. “Your wish is my command. I will send someone for him.”

An unexpected pang of fear hits me the way he says it. “Make sure he brings my children with him,” I warn just before Crane ends the video feed. I turn to Sam, unable to say anything more.

“So we just wait?” Javier asks as he inspects the tape around his glasses.

“Where’s Ramirez?” Emanuel asks.

“He’s at the fence with the other Volker,” Sam tells him.

“He should be here.” Emanuel glances towards the door.

“He’s doing his job,” Sam tells him. “Leading the Volker, defending this District.”

“He can’t monitor the entire border by himself, we don’t have enough people out there,” Emanuel protests.

“Pull up your satellite images then,” I tell him. “We can check the borders while we wait for Crane.”

Emanuel moves towards the computer and pulls up the program he used to find the Survivors. We wait as the images clear and Emanuel scrolls to the District. He moves in, focusing on the Volker at the fence line we just came from. There is a line of Volker, guns pointed towards the thick forest where we watched the lost boys emerge from and run away with Rico’s charred body. Ramirez paces behind the men, his mouth moving with orders we cannot hear.

“Follow the border,” I tell Emanuel.

He moves the screen, following the metallic gleam of the fence, stopping when there is a shiver from the tree line. As we watch in those areas it seems to be nothing more than animals and the wind.

Sam leans towards the screen. “Looks clear,” he says. “Whoever is out there seems to be focused on the gate that we came through.”

A new window pops up on the computer screen, hiding the satellite view of the District. Crane’s image comes into view. I pause for a moment, taking in the image of Ian sitting next to Crane. Raven is sitting on his lap and Lina is leaning on his shoulder.

“Hi, Mom!” Lina blurts out.

“Hi,” I tell her, almost forgetting the reason for the communication.

“Andromeda,” Crane interrupts.

The words come tumbling out of my mouth. “Ian, the reactor has powered down, there are Survivors at the gates, and somehow Hanford is working on the problem remotely but we need this fixed now.”

I watch as Ian lifts Raven and turns to Lina, whispering something to her. Lina leaves my view. “How long has it been down for?” Ian asks, the familiar creases of concern appearing on his face.

“I don’t know.” I look at Sam. “Maybe ten minutes.” Sam nods in agreement.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I’m not sure. One of the Survivors touched the fence and a few minutes later it just all shut down,” I tell him.

“Okay,” he tells me. “Just give me a minute.” He turns to Crane, but because he isn’t speaking directly into the computer I can only catch a few words of what he says.

“Ian?” I ask as he turns back to the computer. His eyes and shoulders move as though he’s looking at something on the screen and typing.

“Just give me a little bit,” he tells me, the creases in his face intensifying. “I’m accessing their programs from here. Why don’t they have operators and engineers there?” he asks as he works.

I look at Emanuel, who stands as still as a statue, refusing to answer that question. “I’m not sure. Perhaps we could put in an order for some to arrive here from Hanford. What do you think, Crane?”

I hear his voice from somewhere near Ian. “If that is what you think that District needs, Andromeda. As you know the resources of the Districts are spread thin.”

“This is kind of important,” I tell him. “At least have a few operators and engineers visit here every so often to check on this place.”

Ian continues with his typing and his looks of concentration. “Check the perimeter again,” I tell Emanuel.

He switches the screen and zooms in, towards the fence where the Volker stand, still fixing their weapons on the forest. Now the three lost boys who dragged away Rico’s body stand in a line in front of the Volker.

“Scroll out,” I tell Emanuel.

He does and we can see movement from not far away. The trees tilt and quiver in a trail. “Someone’s coming,” I warn.

The other Sovereign move to stand behind us and watch. I grip the side of the table, watching as the movement gets closer to the boys and the gate. Sam moves closer, pressing me against Emanuel’s chair.

“Okay!” I hear Ian’s voice.

“Switch back,” Sam urges.

Emanuel clicks away from the satellite image and back to Ian and Crane.

“Are you there?” Ian asks.

“Yeah,” I say.

“It’s fixed.”

“How long before it’s up to full power?”

“A bit,” he replies.

“How long is a bit?”

“Maybe… twenty minutes.”

“We don’t have twenty minutes,” I tell him. “There are more Survivors on their way here.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks, his eyes wide.

I turn to Sam, my heart beating fast, knowing what I’m about to say. I can’t let this District fail. That would only show the Entities that I am, in turn, a failure. And that puts the ones I care about at risk. “I guess we’re going to help defend this District until the fence powers up.” I turn away from the computer and take Sam’s arm. “Let’s go.” We run for the door and down the hallway.

“Andie!” Ian’s voice shouts from the computer as we run. He shouts my name one last time before Emanuel begins speaking to him. We cross the threshold to the room and then we are running down the brown haze-lit hallway and out into the heat.

We run hard, the humid air so thick it seems choking. I notice Sam at my side. “Go,” I yell to him. I know he’s over a foot taller than me, his stride longer, he’s a faster runner. “Don’t wait for me, Sam. I’ll catch up.”

“I’ll save a weapon for you,” he tells me as he takes off at full speed. It’s not long before he’s almost out of my sight, passing the gate in the cement wall, the first barrier to the District. I follow the direction he went, my breaths heavy in my chest. I can’t remember the last time I ran, let alone trained to do something physical. That seemed to stop when Adam died. I pass the wall and then it’s just through the grassy field I have left to scale. The thick southern grass brushes against my legs. Seeing the line of Volker in front of me, I slow to a trot, trying to catch my breath before I get to where Sam and Ramirez stand.

“Sam,” I choke out.

He turns and hands me a handgun. His hair is matted to the back of his neck from the oppressive heat. “No extra magazines,” he tells me shortly. “Use those bullets wisely.”

“Has there been more movement?” I ask them, surveying the scene in front of me. The lost boys are closer to the fence. One of them actually has his hand on it, as if to test its strength.

“I said back away!” Ramirez yells to the boy with his hand on the fence. The boy smiles a wicked grin that doesn’t belong on a person who looks to be so young.

The boy looks between us, his eyes stopping at me. “Bonswa,” he says in a low voice with a flick of his chin.

I look away nervously, pretending to flick the safety on the handgun I’m holding. “What did he just say?” I ask Ramirez. “That wasn’t in English.”

“It means good evening, or good night, in Creole,” Ramirez replies. “Seems these boys here traveled along the gulf. Probably from Louisiana.”

“Great,” Sam mutters. “Just what we need, a bunch of backwoods rednecks who fight alligators.”

“There’s more of them coming, Ramirez,” I tell him. “We saw it on the satellite.”

“How many?” he asks as he scans the row of Volker in front of him.

“Don’t know,” Sam replies.

The boy turns to speak something unintelligible to his companions and then, turning back to the fence, places a booted foot on the chain-links. “Mo manje,” he says with a fierce look in his eyes.

“Get down,” Ramirez yells.

“What did he say?” I ask, moving forward so we are standing in line with the Volker.

“He’s hungry,” Ramirez replies.

“Great,” Sam mutters.

The Volker aim their weapons at the boy on the fence. “Not going to like yourself when that fence lights back up, boy!” Ramirez shouts.

The boy smirks and continues to climb. It’s while he stretches and pulls himself up that I notice the long machete attached to his belt. There is a loud whistle from the forest. The boy stops.

“They’re close,” Sam says. “Get ready.”

This time, I do flick the safety off. I place my body in the stance I once saved for the firing range. The position seems odd now, stretching muscles I haven’t used since Raven was born. I should have been practicing all this time, I think to myself.

There is the sound of deep male voices getting closer. The boy stops climbing, staying where he is like a cat on its perch, ready to pounce.

“You ready?” Sam asks.

I swallow, my throat feeling suddenly dry. “Yeah,” I lie to him.

We aim, all of us, as the men step into the clearing on the other side of the fence. I’m not sure what I was expecting them to look like, but I feel myself gasp in surprise at the five men, at their long greasy hair, the mud caked to their clothing and exposed skin. They each held some type of weapon, be it another machete, an ax, or a strange sword-like apparatus.

“Go back to where you came from,” Ramirez shouts to the men.

They don’t speak. Their eyes, black and hollow and fiery, are fixed on us. And even though there is only eight of them and fifteen of us, their threatening glares are enough to make me feel outnumbered.

One of the five men step forward and, looking up to the boy perched on the fence, he grasps the chain-link. His dark hair hits his shoulders and he has a scar from his left eye to the corner of his mouth. “Sa tchob byen,” he says with a sneer and a flick of his chin, just like the boy. I control the shudder from their threats.

“Go back,” Sam shouts to them in a deep, commanding voice I’ve never heard from him before. “We will shoot you.”

The man shakes the fence, and looking up, he begins to climb.

Ramirez fires a shot. It hits the machete hanging off of the man’s waist and pings off into the forest. “Go back,” Ramirez commands. “That was a warning. The next one will be in your skull.”

Far off in the distance, I can hear the heavy hum of electricity making its way across the fence.

“That electricity is on its way,” Ramirez warns the boy and the man on the fence. “You’re not going to like yourself once it hits. It’ll fry you up like it did to Rico.”

The man jumps down and the boy gives one last smile before releasing himself, jumping backwards off the fence with an inhuman ease. And then it happens fast; the hum, the shiver, the spark, the arch of current. We step back, feeling the thickness in the air and the taste of blood in the backs of our throats.

The group backs away, slithering into the forest, their eyes on us the entire time. The man with the scar mouths something, but with the hum from the fence, we can’t hear what he says.

“Holy fuck!” Sam exclaims once they are out of our sight, dropping his arms in relief. “Those were some creeps.”

“We’ve gotten a few here before the changes,” Ramirez tells us. “That’s how they breed them in the depths of Louisiana. Creepy bastards.”

I click the safety on the handgun and pass it back to Sam. “I guess we should go tell them that the power’s back on,” he tells me.

“Yeah,” I say with a shaky breath. “I think so.”

“Go,” Ramirez tells us. “We’ll stand guard until they’re gone.”

We walk back to the Committee room, weaving between the crowd of new Residents in the parking lot, who stand oblivious to everything that just happened. Emanuel is still on the computer conversing with Crane and Ian. He looks up at me as I walk in the door.

“She’s back,” Emanuel tells them.

As I walk towards the computer I see Crane standing behind Ian. “The electricity’s back on,” I tell them.

Ian stands and walks away from the screen without a word. I catch a glimpse of the look on his face, he’s not happy.

“Good, Andromeda,” Crane tells me. “I’m guessing you’re ready to come home then?”

“Yes,” I tell him.

Emanuel closes the top of the computer. “Congratulations,” he tells me.

“For what?” I ask.

“For completing your task.”

I control the urge to shrug at him, as though it’s just another day, just another task, just another excuse to control me.

“Can we go now?” I ask.

“One last thing,” he tells me.

I watch as Emanuel walks towards a desk in the corner. He pulls out a metal instrument. I’ve seen this before, I recognize its gleam. I also recognize the stick of numbing agent in Emanuel’s other hand. He’s so kind.

“Figures,” I mutter.

He nods.

Pulling the shoulder of my shirt down, I expose the bare skin which already holds the long healed marks of the other Districts. It’s been a few years since I earned one of these. Of course, I got my others in sequential order. This was my last task. It just took me two years to get down here and complete it. I smell the familiar scent of burning skin, similar to when Rico committed suicide by grabbing the fence, just not as strong.

“Andie?” I hear the door open. Sam steps into the room. “What the hell!” With a few quick strides he’s at my side, his arms out, ready to shove Emanuel.

“Stop,” I warn him, my hands pressing against his chest.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asks.

“I’m just finishing the job,” I tell him.

Soon the room fills with the slight smell of burnt skin and the skin of my back itches and tightens. Emanuel removes the instrument, leaving the Crystal River District brand discoloring my skin right next to the others.

“You’re free to go,” Emanuel tells me.

“Goodbye, Emanuel.” I pick up the box of Resident samples and head for the door, pulling Sam’s sleeve. He staggers, glaring at Emanuel. “Let’s go, Sam.”

As I push open the door to Headquarters and walk outside, the humid air seems to gulp at my body. Being outside of the cool Headquarters, I’m sweating instantly.

Sam stops me. “You have all those marks, those brands. Worse than the children. More than me.” He holds out his right wrist, revealing the Phoenix district emblem. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t need to, Sam,” I say.

“It would make things easier. I almost killed Emanuel in there.”

“Sam, I make things easier by not telling you this, by not telling Ian this, by not telling the children this. I protect you all by not telling you what Crane makes me do and what he does to me. This is how I keep you all safe. This is how I keep you all alive. I keep the focus on me.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Maybe I am. But this is how it’s going to happen.”

“You’re keeping more from me,” Sam pushes. “I deserve to know. I am the Volker Sovereign.”

“Don’t push it, Sam.” I shake my head at him. “I told someone everything once. And you know what it got him? Death. He died. I’ll be buried long before I let those secrets kill you too.”

--

The trip home is made in silence, with Sam on edge from what he has just learned. His mood seems to lighten by the time we make it to the Phoenix District gates. As we step out of the train onto the platform, one of the Volker informs Sam of our instructions to meet Crane at Headquarters.

Sam drives us to the Chemistry building first so I can put the Crystal River Resident samples in the freezer, then we drive to Headquarters to debrief.

The building is dark and even though I can smell early summer in the air, it feels awkwardly cold here compared to the heat we just experienced. Sam walks me to Crane’s office. As the elevator doors open to the floor he uses as an office, we immediately see Crane standing in the middle of the room with Alexander.

“Congratulations,” Crane says as he walks towards me. He slaps me on the back, as though I was his pal, an old friend come to visit. I might have smiled, maybe slapped him back like comrades do in the movies. But truthfully, I just wanted to punch him in the face. He slapped my right shoulder, the one with the fresh Crystal River brand, and the numbing agent wore off hours ago. I don’t flinch. I wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“That was fast. Faster than your other tasks. I must admit, Andromeda, I was afraid, after everything, that maybe you wouldn’t be able to perform as well.” He smiles, beaming.

Looks like I made him proud. “Can I go home now?” I ask.

“Not yet, we still have one last matter.”

“What?”

Crane glances to Alexander, who clears his throat before telling me, “Morris has passed.”

“What?” I hold my breath.

“Morris, you know how sick he was, he’s passed on.” Crane waits for me to digest his news. “He’s dead,” he finally says the words.

His eyes tell me everything. I am now a Funding Entity. I’ve just taken the place of Morris.

Worst. Promotion. Ever.

“I want to see him,” I tell Crane.

“Yes, well, I guess you could go down to the morgue, but do you really want to see a dead man?”

“More than anything.” I have to make sure he’s dead. That this isn’t another one of Crane’s tricks he pulled while I was gone.

“Just, before you leave,” he turns, pulling something out of his drawer. “Colonel Salk, I need you to step out.”

I nod to Sam, letting him know that everything is fine. Sam waits for the elevator, and as the doors close, I turn to face Crane. “What do you want?” I ask, looking to Alexander, whose face remains placid as he says nothing.

“I need your arm, Andromeda.”

I hesitate. “Why?”

“Think of this as your induction as an Entity.” I look to his hand and see that he holds a syringe with a large-bore needle.

“What’s that?”

“Your transmitter.”

“Is that like the one you gave the Runner?”

We used to have a Runner, who would go out and get supplies, when there were supplies to get, before the Reformation. Crane injected him with a transmitter, one which contained a lethal dose of potassium.

“No, we wouldn’t be so careless as to allow such a simple way to kill one of the Entities. This is just a tracking device. So we never lose you.”

I roll up my sleeve. He presses the needle into my forearm. I don’t flinch, I don’t fight it, and for the first time I simply accept it. I feel the sharp pinch as the foreign object is inserted under my skin. Crane sets the syringe down and places a bandage over the injection site. I pull away from him and replace my sleeve.

“Are we done here?” I ask.

“Yes, and welcome, you are one of us now.”

I control the shudder that’s trying to run through my body. The last thing I’ll ever want to be is someone like Crane. I turn to leave, but just as I reach for the elevator button Crane stops me. “Oh, Andromeda.” I turn. “Don’t cut this one out. I’d hate to see another scar on your body.” Somehow, he figured out that I cut out Adam’s transmitter. Probably after Adam broke it to pieces with a hammer.

“Why?” I ask Crane at his suggestion. “I find it hard to believe you care much about me.” Especially since my body is currently riddled with scars, I think to myself. All of them received since I became a part of this Phoenix Project.

“Just don’t,” he warns. “And I, we,” he swipes his hand to include Alexander, “care a great deal for you. You’re important.”

It seems these people think I am worth more than I do. And I don’t understand it. I don’t see it. Just because I helped Crane play with the human genome, it doesn’t make me anything special. I’m sure they could have figured it out on their own in time. If they had that kind of time.

I leave, collecting Sam at the front doors of Headquarters. We head for the hospital so I can verify that Morris is truly dead.

--

“This couldn’t wait until morning?” Dr. Akiyama complains as he escorts us to the morgue. Even though we’ve only been gone a few days, I notice his hair is whiter now, much too white for a man his age. Must be the toll this place has taken on him.

“Sorry, Doc, but no,” I tell him. “This can’t wait.”

He unlocks the metal doors with a set of keys. As we enter the room, he flicks on the lights. Instantly, I see my breath in front of me. The sterile room is freezing.

And then I feel a large, warm body behind me. “Are you afraid of ghosts?” Sam whispers directly into my ear, his breath tickling the tiny hairs of my ear canal. It causes a hard shiver to run through me. He’s laughing, barely able to contain it; he thinks he’s funny.

I elbow him in the gut. “Can you act like you are the Volker Sovereign for five minutes, Sam?”

Sam coughs hard. “You need to loosen up,” Sam chokes out, holding his stomach.

Dr. Akiyama flips through a chart as he walks towards a gurney, waving for us to follow him. He unzips a black body bag and pulls the dark plastic back so we can see what’s inside.

It’s Morris. His face limp, pale, eyes closed. I will never see him smile ever again.

“What will you do with him?” I ask.

“Not sure, no orders.”

“Send him to the Pasture. He can be buried next to Adam.” Dr. Akiyama jerks his head towards me as though I’ve said something wrong.

“You buried Adam?” he asks.

“Well, no, we just have a gravestone. I don’t see why we can’t bury Morris out there.”

“Oh,” he settles a bit.

“I’ll have Elvis set it up,” I tell the doctor. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he tells me as he zips the body bag closed.

I take Sam’s arm as we walk out of the morgue, into the night, and back to his vehicle.

chapter twelve

There are flowers on the table, a small cup with a handful of crocus, their stems immersed in water. A note beside the cup reads Welcome back, in Lina’s handwriting and then Astrid’s, repeated with Ian’s and then a scribble, which must be Raven’s. I smile at their thoughtfulness.

Sam is right, I should be nicer. I should at least try. Walking through the dark house, I make my way to Lina’s bedroom. Stevie licks my hand as I walk by the bed, welcoming me home. Lina and Astrid are both sound asleep. I pull their blankets over them, then walk to my room to check on Raven. He opens his eyes, as though he senses my presence, as I walk to the side of the crib. I pick him up and squeeze him close to me.

“I missed you, baby Raven,” I tell him. He reaches out, pressing his chubby fingers to my cheek. Silent as always. I lay him down and pull the blanket over him. He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep as though I had never left and he never feared I wouldn’t come back for him.

Stepping into the hallway, I notice Ian’s door is open. I walk towards it. His room is empty. Panic floods me. I know that he wanders at night but I was hoping that would end with me gone and him in charge of the children. I make my way through the small house, searching the bedrooms, the bathroom, the kitchen. I find him in the living room sleeping on the couch, one of the Guardians stretched out on the floor below him. I must have walked right past him when I got home and never noticed.

I watch for a moment as he sleeps so peacefully. His face is relaxed, his blonde hair askew. Walking toward him, I pull the spare blanket off the back of the couch and lay it across him, and just as I set the edge of the blanket across his shoulders his hand grabs my wrist in one quick motion. I look up to see him awake and looking at me. I take a step back, flustered at his quick reaction.

“You’re back,” he says, his voice merely a whisper as he loosens his grasp on my wrist.

“Yes,” I tell him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He lets go of me and moves to sit, rubbing a hand across his face. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“What?”

“Risked your life for those people.”

“I didn’t risk my life for them. I risked it for the children and… you.”

He just stares at me in the dim light of the living room, not saying another word, his lips pressed tightly together as though he wants to say something else.

I back away from him, hands raised in defeat to avoid any argument. “Okay.” I try to control the quiver in my voice. “Goodnight,” I tell him as I turn and head towards my room. I wasn’t expecting that. Ian was never one to wake so suddenly or react so quickly.

I shower, rinsing the last of the dried Florida sweat off of my body. Dressing in a pair of old sweats and a tank top, I crawl into bed. An empty bed. And touching the cold pillow next to mine, I wonder if I will always be alone here. Ian has expressed his desire to truly live as husband and wife, but I just can’t bring myself to that. I’m not ready. I’m not sure when I’ll be ready.

Hearing the familiar sound of Ian’s quiet footsteps in the hall, I hold my breath. As usual, he stops outside my room and then after a few moments, he paces to the kitchen before leaving. I pull the blanket up to my chin and curling onto my side, fall asleep to the sound of Raven’s breaths as he sleeps in his crib.

--

I stare at the phone on my desk which was moved to the living room when Ian arrived. Morris will never call me on it again. Neither will Adam. I think about unplugging it and throwing it out into the forest for the Guardians to play fetch with.

“Mom?” I hear Lina’s voice from the hallway.

I stand and close the wall cupboard that holds my computer as Lina walks into the living room.

“You’re home.”

I lift her onto my lap and wrap my arms around her. She snuggles into my chest. “I missed you, Lina.” I kiss the top of her head. The Guardian by the door raises its head and I hear the shuffle of little feet in the hall. “Raven?” He turns the corner and walks towards us. “How did you get out of your crib?” I ask him as he wanders towards us, hands midair, expecting to be picked up.

“I think he climbed out,” Lina tells me. “He kept sneaking into my bed while you were gone.”

“Did you put him back in his crib?”

“Daddy did, but he just got back out.”

Raven closes his eyes and leans into me.

“I think it’s time for him to get a big boy bed,” Lina tells me.

Ian walks by the living room. He merely glances in at us and nods before walking towards the kitchen. I hear him start the coffee maker.

A big-boy bed. There is no room for another bed in my bedroom. That means one thing, Raven could take Ian’s room, and we’d have to share, or one of us could take the couch.

I pat Lina on the back. “Let’s get moving. We need to wake up Astrid and get you all ready for school.”

“Okay, Mom.” She slides off my lap and runs to her room.

I stand and carry Raven into the kitchen. “What do you want for breakfast?” I ask him. He raises his head off my shoulder and stares at the side of my face. “Are you ever going to talk to me, Raven?” I turn and look at him, so close in front of my face. He looks just like Adam, his eyes such a pale blue I can see my reflection in them. I push his dark hair across his forehead and he shakes his head from side-to-side. An effective no. “Someday, Raven, you’ll need to speak.” He lays his head back down on my shoulder.

Ian is making his breakfast. He pulls down two mugs from the cupboard, setting them on the counter as the coffee machine spits out fresh coffee. Reaching for the bag of bread, I place four pieces in the oven before filling a pan with water and heating it on the stove for hot cocoa. Then I remember there is no hot cocoa.

Turning the stove off, I walk to the fridge to warm some milk for the children’s breakfast. As I pass by Ian, he reaches out and ruffles Raven’s hair. Raven lifts his head off of my shoulder and leans to the side towards Ian, reaching for Ian to take him. I lean, passing Raven into Ian’s arms, giving him a look of shock. Ian shrugs. Raven has never gone to Ian. Not that I ever forced him to, or that Ian ever pushed the issue. Raven has always been in my arms, in his crib, or toddling around the house.

I watch as Raven lays his head on Ian’s shoulder, his little arm settles across Ian’s back. I reach for the breakfast plates and Ian turns to finish his task, now with just one free arm.

Unable to stop myself, I glance at them out of the corner of my eye. It’s been so long since I saw Ian carry a child. The last time was Lina. This is something that I never expected. It’s comforting, seeing him bond with Raven, since he is the only father Raven will know. He will never know his real father, his real father is dead.

I set out the plates and the mugs, just as the girls run into the kitchen, dashing to their seats dressed and ready for the day. Ian sits at the table in Raven’s seat, Raven on his lap. I look around, never expecting to be sitting at a table with three children and Ian, albeit, it’s a mishmash of ours, mine, and someone else’s.

Stevie nudges my elbow; I pass her a piece of toast.

We eat our breakfast with the girls chatting about which goat is their favorite and the foals that are about to be born. Raven observes, eating his toast in silence. As the children wander off to brush their teeth and get their shoes on, I stand to collect their plates. I catch Ian watching me. I guess I could start trying to be a little nicer, now.

“Thanks for the flowers,” I tell him.

“The girls picked them.”

I look out the window at the melting fields of the Pasture; a few spots of snow still litter the fields. “Where did you find them?” I ask. I hadn’t seen any near the houses or the courtyard.

“Out near the water tower,” he tells me.

I stop. That’s where the grave is. “What were you doing out there?”

“Don’t you bring Raven there every day?”

I didn’t think anyone noticed. “Yes.”

“I brought him there,” he stands and collects his dishes, “while you were gone.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Ian.”

“Yes, I did,” he says firmly.

I guess now I understand why Raven is suddenly so smitten with Ian. Ian is the first person to put forth some effort in trying to understand him.

--

We walk to the schoolhouse. Raven walks on his own now, holding Ian’s hand. I suddenly feel naked, not having Raven on my hip or holding onto me. Not having the comfort of the last tiny bit of Adam close to me.

Blithe is waiting on the porch. Sam stands near her and they talk as the boys run in the open grass of the courtyard. Lina and Astrid run to Sam, throwing their arms around him, greeting him for the day. Raven lets go of Ian’s hand to walk towards me as Ian heads for Sam. I pick up Raven and set him on the porch next to Blithe.

She bends down. “Good morning, Raven,” she says, smiling.

Raven just stares at her.

“Can you say good morning?” I ask him.

He looks between us, saying nothing, his chubby cheeked face placid. A crease appears between Blithe’s brows. I know what she’s thinking; he doesn’t even try to speak. He makes no attempt. I kiss Raven on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” I tell him.

His expression changes. I think he’s mad-no, that’s an understatement: he’s pissed.

Blithe herds the children into the schoolhouse. Lina runs to me for a hug. Astrid runs to Sam for a hug. We leave them at the schoolhouse to learn all the things Crane thinks are important. I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy to hear about the things I teach her, when school is out, after dinner. I tell her things, about how the world used to work. Things he probably doesn’t want her to know.

“Shouldn’t you be at Headquarters?” I ask Sam.

“Headed there now, just needed to speak with Elvis first.”

I remember I need to talk with him too. I need to arrange a burial for Morris. We walk to the barn together, and Ian follows, veering off towards his vehicle with a short goodbye as he leaves for the plant. Sam knocks on Elvis’s office door.

“Come in!” Elvis shouts. We both enter. “What can I help you with?” Elvis asks.

If he was sad about Morris’s passing, he hides it well. Since he is one of the Entities I would expect for him to feel something in the death of one of his cohorts. Instead, I don’t see a wrinkle of caring on his tanned face.

Sam gestures for me to go first.

“I want a grave for Morris. Out near the water tower,” I tell Elvis.

“Figured you would,” he replies. “Have someone working on the granite now.”

“How long should it take?”

“Few days, once the ground thaws fully we can dig. Give him a proper burial.”

“Good,” I tell him.

We stand in silence for a moment. Sam looks at me expectantly.

“What?” I ask. Then I remember Sam needs to speak with Elvis also. Must be he doesn’t want me around for it. “Bye,” I tell them, turning to leave.

I guess these people have already stressed the importance of secrets to my brother. I guess it’s expected of him now. It was how Adam had that job; his ability to keep secrets, to find out information. I’m sure Elvis is training him now. Teaching him how to keep his face placid, how to be deceiving. This is not what I want to see Sam turn into. This is what I worked so hard to protect him from.

--

“Committee meeting today,” Ian tells me.

“How do you know?”

“Crane called while you were bringing the kids to the schoolhouse.”

“Okay, just give me a sec.” Leaving Ian standing on the porch, I head into the house, grab a sweater from my room and pull my hair up into a bun. When I get back to the porch Ian is still standing there, waiting.

“Want to ride together?” he asks.

“Uh, sure.”

I follow him to his car, one of the Volker SUV’s. It kind of perturbs me that he was designated a vehicle before me. But then, Ian follows the rules here so I guess he’s earned it.

He steps in front of me and opens the passenger door. “You look nice,” he says, smiling.

I feel my eyes widen, a bit shocked. I’m wearing nothing more than what I always wear; slacks, boots, blouse. Maybe it’s the sweater, because it hides the necklace Adam gave me, the one I’ve been unable to remove from around my neck.

“Uh, thanks.” I slide into the passenger seat. Ian closes the door and makes his way to the driver’s seat. As he drives, I try to interrupt the awkward silence. “No work today?” I ask him.

“Got the day off.” He smiles as he drives the poorly kept country roads into town.

Nobody gets a day off in the Phoenix District. “What are you up to?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just headed to a meeting with you.” He smiles. I remember this, this playful banter we used to have. It seems strange right now, forced. But, I’m not sure how to interact anymore. I just sit, staring out the window, watching the order of the District as we drive. I notice Ian takes a turn towards the lake, a detour from our usual route.

“Where are you going?” I ask him, sitting up straighter.

“Just need to make a quick stop.”

“A quick stop? Out here?” The view of the lake emerges as Ian crests a hill. There is a length of green grass and then an endless dark blue body of water.

He stops in front of the lake at an open park. He gets out and opens my door. “Come with me.” He tips his head towards the open park, his mouth upturned in a boyish half smile.

I follow him, not sure of what he has planned. I don’t like surprises, not anymore. “Crane will be mad if we’re late,” I warn him.

“We’ve got time,” he tells me with confidence.

We walk side-by-side across the great expanse of lawn. The asphalt sidewalk has been replaced with a cobblestone one. It looks nice, quaint. Ian stops at the wooden fence at the edge of the park. There is a straight drop down to the lake. There used to be boats here. A marina and docks. It’s all been removed; the break-wall has been extended, heightened. I can see the gleam of the chain link fence which has been added to the break-wall. I haven’t been out here in years. I haven’t seen the changes and just how different it is.

Tugging the neck of my sweater up, I try to ward off the cold lake breeze.

“Andie,” Ian turns to me. “Do you remember this place?”

My eyes wander to the surrounding maple trees. Of course I do. This is where he proposed to me, so many years ago. It wasn’t springtime, though, it was fall. My favorite season. He paid Sam one-hundred dollars to collect every last orange leaf in town. And he brought me to this spot. I close my eyes, remembering. We had just gotten over a horrible fight. I had accused him of not spending enough time with me, that he had been ignoring me. In all seriousness he had every right to. He was in his last semester working hard on defending his thesis on the sustainability of nuclear energy, during a time when everyone wanted the nuclear plants closed down. Some feared a nuclear emergency, that our water and soil was already contaminated. Little did they know what was to come, and that the nuclear reactors would one day be responsible for their safety.

But that day, that day it was beautiful with the orange and the green and the blue of the lake. It smelled like apples and freshly sharpened pencils. And he was so handsome with his blonde hair and brown eyes and fair skin. Ian wore dark jeans, a blue dress shirt and a khaki jacket. He got down on one knee and proposed. And I accepted, practically ripping the ring away from him. It was simple ring, small and perfect. I remember I hugged him, and I kissed him, and I laughed, and I cried. He smelled like lemons and mint.

He still smells like lemons and mint.

I sniff the air, tilt my head, it’s more like lemons today. I open my eyes to find Ian standing directly in front of me. His face softened, poignant. He must remember too. He must remember everything we were and everything we are having such a hard time returning to. He just doesn’t have the memories in between. The ones I have that are so hard to forget, the ones where he was taken away from me and I was forced to move on as though he were the one that was dead. But he’s alive, standing here in front of me now. I have him back, I just don’t know what to do with him anymore.

“I know it’s hard,” he tells me, almost whispering. “But I want you to try.” I stare back at him, at his familiar face. “We were great once. Really, really great.”

“I know,” I say.

“Can you try?” he asks. “Can’t you try just a little bit harder?” he steps back, drops to one knee, holds something up to me.

My eyes focus on his hand and I see he’s holding my engagement ring. I haven’t seen it since… since before all of this. I left it at home because we weren’t allowed to wear jewelry at the hospital where I worked.

I stand there, silent. I could try. I should try. I should try and do something. I should make some effort. I raise my hand to accept the ring. But instead of dropping it in the palm of my hand, Ian grasps my fingers, turns my hand, and pushes the engagement ring onto my ring finger.

This time I don’t laugh, I don’t cry, I’m actually not sure what to do. And then Ian moves so quickly, before I even have a chance to react. Standing, stepping towards me, reaching for me, his hand brushes across my cheek, pulls the pin from my hair, releasing it into the afternoon breeze. His fingers sink into my hair as he presses his lips to mine. He inhales through his nose, breathing me in, pressing his lips harder, hungry, like he’s been starved to do this for years. He has been starved for years. And still, here I am, continuing to starve him.

He softens.

I stiffen, trying to remember how to do this with him.

He stops. “Aren’t you going to kiss me back?” he asks, breathless.

“I just did.”

“No, you didn’t.” He kisses my cheek, buries his face in my hair.

I want to tell him something, a reason, an excuse. But I’m sure he won’t believe me. He wants a fairytale when our new reality is that we are living in what seems like some alternate universe.

I’m afraid to go back to the way things were. Because it’s been two years that Crane has left me in peace. It won’t be long now; something is going to happen, soon. Going to Crystal River was just the beginning. Crane will continue on with his twisted games, endangering the lives of everyone I love while he tries to create his perfect world and uses me to help him do it.

“Let’s go.” Ian gives up. He takes my hand and leads me back to his vehicle so we can continue on to the committee meeting.

--

Morris’s seat has been removed from the table. And now Sam sits across from me in Adam’s old seat. There’s just an empty space there, now that I have taken his place. Perhaps I should feel different, more powerful, more in-control of the future. Instead, I feel a little numb. Between Ian’s advances, the decisions I made in Crystal River, and the genetically defunct child that I let into that District, it’s all making me feel a little off kilter, more than usual. Now sitting here, next to the orange-haired dictator, I have to keep reminding myself to pay attention.

Crane starts the meeting.

“Welcome, Sovereign. We have one topic on the agenda today and that is the Sovereign children, one in particular.” He pauses to look at me. “Raven Somers.”

The topic pops up on my computer screen as each of the Sovereign look to theirs.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, glancing at the report in front of me. It’s a copy of a record, his medical record, a report of his milestones. I’ve never seen this before.

“Well, Andromeda, I’m sure you’ve noticed he’s not normal. There’s something wrong with him.”

“He’s fine. He’s just a quiet baby,” I argue. “I would know if there was something wrong with him. He’s my child, Crane!”

“If he doesn’t start meeting milestones then we have to make other arrangements for him.”

“What do you mean other arrangements?”

“We don’t have the means to care for children, or adults for that matter, that are… handicapped. None of the Districts do. This is the reason for your pairings, to prevent such occurrences, to ensure the genetic diversity and robustness of all Residents and Sovereign.”

I don’t bother telling him that Adam and I were a perfect match. I reviewed our data when I was pregnant. There is no way in hell Raven has any handicaps, if anything he is more intelligent than most of the people in this room. Unless, perhaps he was without oxygen at delivery for an extended period of time. But that would have been noticeable. There is absolutely no way.

“And what would you plan on doing with them?” I ask.

“Send them away or…” He smirks, his stupid smirk. “Euthanize them.”

My blood boils. “How do you think you know so much about my child? You’ve never met him. You’ve never spent one second of your life with him!”

He smiles, adjusts his tie. It’s green today. I’d like to strangle him with it. “There are still many things you are not privy to.”

So quickly Crane returns to his usual ways. I thought that Adam’s death might have changed him, since he was being so nice before. But now I see that I was wrong.

“Leave the children alone, Crane,” I warn him.

Crane leans toward me, drops his voice so only I can hear him. “You shouldn’t have let that child into Crystal River.”

--

I slam the door to Ian’s vehicle just as Ian gets in the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the car.

“You see?” I practically scream. “You see what happens? It was only a matter of time before he started in again.”

“I wasn’t expecting him to pull that,” Ian admits, reaching in slow motion to put the key in the ignition.

“This is your first lesson, Ian. This is what Crane does. He likes to dangle shiny things on fishing wire.”

“What do we do?” He stares straight ahead as he asks.

“What I’ve always done.” I buckle the seat belt. “Everything in my power to protect my children. We need to get back to the Pasture, now.”

Ian doesn’t wait for me to give orders. He starts the truck and speeds out of town.

I almost forgot what this feeling was like. My heart beating so fast I can’t keep myself still. I want to leap from the SUV and run the rest of the way to the Pasture, as though I could run as fast as Ian is driving. I can’t run that fast. This knowledge doesn’t stop the adrenaline from pumping through my veins. It’s overwhelming.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Ian tells me as he drives.

“I wouldn’t be sure about anything when Crane’s involved,” I tell him.

“You think he’d harm Raven?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“I mean, I know Crane is fucked in the head, but he wouldn’t hurt a child. Raven’s nothing but a baby.”

I remember how much Ian has missed. “You know what he did last time? When Crane decided that all of the Sovereign needed to be tattooed, so that their rank would be easily identifiable?” I hold out my wrist and pull up my sleeve so he can see the mark burned into my skin.

Merely glancing at the mark, Ian slows the SUV considerably, preparing to pull into the hidden driveway of the Pasture as I continue. “He beckoned me to the hospital with some bull-crap excuse of needing my help. And while I was gone the Volker stormed the Pasture and tattooed the children.” Ian shifts in his seat. “I know you saw the mark on Lina’s wrist. Sam tried to stop them. That’s when he was new here, before he learned how Crane runs things and how the rules seem to change to accommodate his agenda.”

“What happened when Sam tried to stop them?” Ian asks.

“They sedated him. But that didn’t stop one of the Guardians from killing the Volker that stabbed Sam in the neck with the needle.”

“Hmm,” he responds thoughtfully. “Hang on.” Ian gets out of the vehicle and punches in the code to open the gates to the Pasture. He returns to the driver’s seat. “So these Guardians, I thought they were pretty innocent. Now you tell me that they are capable of killing?” he asks.

“I’ve only seen it happen once,” I tell him.

“What are they?” he asks, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he drives down the gravel road of the Pasture. “I mean, what are they really? I’ve never seen any dog like them before.”

“Crane told me once that he created them. So I can only assume that they are some genetically engineered species.”

Ian nods as he processes the information. He pulls up next to the barn that holds Elvis’s office. “Seems Crane has a thing with manipulating nature,” he finally responds.

We both get out of the SUV and look around the courtyard. Everything seems to be in order.

Elvis walks out of the barn.

“Welcome back,” he tells us, walking towards us.

“Elvis, did we have any visitors today?” I ask.

“No one has come through here,” he tells me. “Why do you ask?”

I shake my head at him. I’m still not fully trusting Elvis. He is an Entity. Morris told me for certain. “I’m going to get my children,” I tell him. I start walking towards the schoolhouse, expecting Ian to follow me but he doesn’t. I turn to find him speaking with Elvis. I’m sure they are talking about what just happened in the meeting. I have to let Ian know that Elvis is not one to trust. None of the Entities are. And I guess that means that he can’t even trust me.

--

It’s been days since Crane threatened Raven’s life. I’ve been working away like a good little Sovereign, waiting for the children to wake up. Hoping that my compliance with Crane’s terms will distract him from Raven.

“Andie?” Ian asks.

Turning, I find him standing in the doorway. I save my work and take a break from assigning the Residents into pairs. “Yeah.” I shut down the computer.

“We need to talk.”

“About what.”

“Something important.” He looks around the room before walking towards me. “Meet me outside. At the ruins.”

“For what?” I ask. I haven’t been to the ruins since before Raven was born. They are just some broken down old buildings out in the forest.

“Just meet me there. After the children are in school.”

“Why, Ian? What’s this about?”

“Andie, just come. Trust me.” He gives me a look, a pleading, trust me look.

“Okay.” I agree, watching as he walks out the door. Great. I don’t know what he’s planning, but meeting in the overgrown ruins in the woods is not my version of a hot date. He’s up to something.

I get the children ready for school. And as we walk to the schoolhouse, I pass Ian in the courtyard. He stops to hug Lina and Raven.

“Fifteen minutes,” he whispers to me.

I nod at him, still unsure of what he’s planning. He smiles, and gives me that look. I’ve seen it before, the one that tells me he’s thinking of other things. He nods. My fingertips tingle. I’m not ready for whatever he’s planning. I don’t want a date in the woods. I want to formulate a plan to keep my children safe and get rid of Crane for good.

After leaving the children with Blithe, I head for the south fields and the ruins. I zip my jacket to my chin to ward off the morning spring chill. The walking should warm me up. I notice the Guardians of the forest as I pass. They watch me. Only one follows behind me, they know I’m on my best behavior.

I pass the small lake and before long I can see the dilapidated buildings ahead of me. I follow Ian’s tracks, the disturbed leaves and footprints in the spring mud.

“Ian?” I ask as I come upon the first house. Stepping up onto the sagging porch and looking inside, I see nothing.

I move on to the next one. The roof is gone, the cavity inside filled with small trees and thick moss. A bird flutters as I walk by. The door is open on the third house. This one still has a roof. I peer inside and see a glow coming from under the floorboards. I remember this one; this is the house with the hollow floor, the one the Guardians wouldn’t let me explore. I take a deep breath. A date in a musty basement, still not my idea of fun. As I walk closer, the floorboards groan under me.

“Andie?” I hear Ian’s voice.

“Yeah,” I respond.

“Come down here.” He holds out an old oil lantern, illuminating the aged stairs that lead into the ground.

“Ian?” I ask as I take his hand when I reach the last few steps. “What are we doing down here?”

I let my eyes adjust to the darkness, taking in the sight before me. There’s a table, chairs, lanterns. Sam and Elvis are here, seated and waiting.

This is not a date, this is some secret meeting.

“What are you all doing down here?” I ask.

“Formulating a plan,” Ian answers. “We can’t risk Blithe seeing us. She answers directly to Crane.”

I look to Sam, he nods.

I look to Elvis, he nods.

“A plan for what?” I ask.

“To overthrow Crane,” Ian tells me.

I look to Elvis. “You can’t be here,” I tell him, pointing so everyone in the room knows exactly who I’m talking to.

“It’s alright, Andie,” he tries to soothe me.

“No, Elvis, you can’t be here. I know who you are, who you really are. And you know what I am now. You can’t be here. They don’t know about you, who you really are. You’re not just a rancher out here watching the farm.” I don’t say that he is a Funding Entity. I don’t say that I am now either, it is forbidden. I turn to Ian and Sam. “You’re worried about Blithe seeing us? You need to be worried about him.”

“I’m on board, Andie,” Elvis says. “I went to Ian and Sam first.”

“It’s true,” Ian speaks up.

“What do you think will come of this?” I ask Elvis. “When Crane finds out, this is just what he needs.”

“We want Burton Crane gone. A lot of us have wanted Crane gone for a long time now.”

“Why didn’t you come to me then? Instead you go behind my back and involve my family!”

“You were in Crystal River. I approached Ian in case anything happened.”

I look to Ian, who nods in agreement.

“Crane has a lot of friends,” I tell them.

“Crane has a lot of enemies,” Elvis retorts. “A lot of people, powerful people, who are afraid of him, who would like to see him gone.”

“What does he have on them?” I ask.

“He knows their secrets, all of their secrets,” Elvis replies.

“Their secrets mean nothing to me,” I tell Elvis. “I don’t care about their secrets. I just want him out of my life for good.”

“So do many other people.”

“And then what happens?” I ask. “What happens to this new society; the Sovereign, the Residents, the Survivors?”

“It is all set up. The Districts are running smoothly. There’s not much else to do but continue on.”

I turn to Sam and Ian. “You two realize what you’re getting into?”

“I think we’ve known for a long time, Andie,” Sam replies.

I don’t think they really know. I don’t think they understand what I’ve gone through to get them all back, to have peace, just a tiny bit of peace.

“Who else is involved?” I ask Elvis.

“No one else is on board yet, officially.”

“And how do you intend to get them on board?”

They all stare at me.

I get that dropping, free-falling feeling in my gut. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” Ian asks.

“Me?”

“You’ve been to all the Districts,” Elvis tells me. “You’ve met all the other Sovereign. Some of them trust you. Some of them trust you a lot. Like the ones with weapons.”

He’s talking about Hanford, the District that’s bursting at the seams with weapons and technologies we don’t have here.

“There are others too,” I respond. “There are other Sovereign who are just as much a psychopath as Crane, like Sakima in Tonopah,” I remind Elvis. “Sakima will never be on board, he’s brutal, and there are more Residents there than anywhere else. He has thousands of medicated minions. I’m sure you know, Elvis, because you are privy to these details. Sakima refuses to take any of his Sovereign off of the medication. We wouldn’t stand a chance against them. We don’t have the population.”

“We aren’t talking war here, Andie,” Elvis tells me. “We’re talking about taking one orange-haired denominator out of the equation. The rest of the pieces are already set into place.”

I don’t like this. But then again, I dislike following Crane’s orders more. “Fine,” I tell them angrily. “I only ask one thing.”

“What?” Elvis asks.

“Tell them how your family died.”

He told me a few years ago, his wife and daughter died in a car accident. But that’s an easy excuse and it sounds like something I’ve heard before. Adam’s family died in a car accident and he didn’t think it was really an accident. I don’t think it was for Elvis either.

“Why?” he tips his head.

“Tell them one of your secrets. The real reason why you want Crane out. What happened to your wife and daughter, Elvis? What truly happened?”

He gives me a hard look, presses his lips together. Ian and Sam watch him. “Crane killed them.”

I turn to Sam and Ian. “You see what you have to look forward to? If we don’t succeed in getting him out, we have a lot to lose.”

“You’re on board then?” Elvis asks, not giving them a chance to answer my question.

I look to Sam and Ian. “I have no choice now,” I tell him.

“There will be plenty of choices, and some you will get to make. Let’s break for now. We’ll meet again soon.” Elvis points to Sam and Ian. “Separate paths back home,” he reminds them. “We don’t want to be spotted exiting the forest together.”

They blow out the lanterns. Sam and Elvis head aboveground first. Ian and I wait a few minutes.

“Ready?” Ian asks me.

“Sure.”

Ian takes my hand, leading me up the stairs. He stops to close the opening to the cellar, letting the floorboards drop and cover the open space. We walk towards the fields.

“I bet you didn’t think I had it in me,” Ian tells me proudly as we step out from under the protection of the forest.

“What’s that, Ian?

“Back there.” He thumbs towards the ruins.

“No, Ian, it never crossed my mind that you were suicidal.”

“What?” he asks incredulously.

“That’s all this plan is going to get us. It’s suicide. Someone will die or all of us may die. Crane is not one to be played with, he doesn’t play nice.”

Ian places his hand on my arm, stopping me. “I’m not suicidal.”

“Then what is this? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’ll never forgive myself for not protecting the both of you. I sat by for two years and waited, Andie. Crane used me as his tool and he still is. You think I don’t know that he’s using me?”

I let out a sigh. This is something I’ve wanted to hear for years, an apology from him for not protecting Lina. But now, after everything, it sounds wrong. Deep in my heart I know he’s not truly at fault. “You can’t take the blame. There’s no one here to blame but these people who planned this. Crane is using all of us.”

“You mean that?” He steps closer to me.

I look into his eyes. They’re hopeful, waiting for my response. “Yes.”

He reaches for me, pulling me into his arms. And for the first time in ages, it seems, I wrap my arms around his neck and let him press our bodies together. I don’t do it because I feel like I should; I do it because I want to, because for the first time we are on the same page, we are in this together, finally.

Somehow we manage let go of each other and immediately I miss the familiar warmth of him being so close. “Come on.” I take Ian’s hand and head for the water tower.

As we come to a stop, Ian admires its height and rustiness. “What’s up with this?” he asks.

“Climb,” I tell him as I begin to scale the ladder.

The water tower creaks and groans.

“Do you think this is safe?” Ian asks from below me.

I don’t answer. I just keep climbing and pull myself to the enclosed walking platform that surrounds the top of the water tower. Ian follows and soon he is standing next to me taking in the view.

We can see all of the Pasture from this height; the cooling towers for the nuclear reactors, the lake, the forest that separates us from the surrounding cities and towns. The tree branches are swollen with spring buds and soon the forest will once again become dense and green, enclosing us in a barrier, protecting us from what is outside.

“Why are we here?” Ian asks me.

“This is where I used to come to think,” I tell him.

“Hmm,” he nods and continues to appreciate the view.

I watch him from the corner of my eye as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. The breeze tugs at his hair, shifting the shaggy blond strands. I sit, my back against the chain-link barrier of the enclosed walking platform. Ian sits next to me, cross-legged.

“I spoke with Dr. Akiyama,” he breaks the silence.

I tense. “About what?”

“Us.” Ian stares at my face, his features softening.

“What did he say?”

“He said that we need to talk. Really talk about everything that’s happened.”

I look away from him, trying to hide the shamed flush that I know is shading my cheeks. A lot has happened in four years, a lot that he doesn’t know and that I’m too ashamed to tell him. My stomach twists with nausea at the thought of everything; how I’ve betrayed him and our marriage.

“Andie?” Ian asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Dr. Akiyama said we could try this game, that it might help, you know, us.” I look at him and his face looks so hopeful with the idea that we might be able to regain what we’ve lost, what we once had.

“Fine,” I tell him. “What do we do?”

“We just say, ‘Do you remember when,’ and then we tell each other a memory, from before… before all of this.” He waves his hand in the air, gesturing to the Pasture below us and towards the demolished city to the south.

I’m not sure I want to relive any of my memories. I’ve pushed so many of them to the dark recesses of my brain that I can’t think of much now. I just know that I want to stand and climb down the ladder and run away to escape his hopeful gaze. I don’t want to remember our life before. I know we can’t go back to that and I don’t want to remember what’s happened over the past four years, all the changes, because of the things I’ve done and the things Crane required from me. I don’t feel like the person I once was. And truthfully, I’m afraid Ian will see that and he will be just as disgusted with me as I am.

“So, what do you think?” he asks.

My mouth is suddenly dry. “Sure.”

“Okay. I’ll start,” he tells me, his face turning serious.

I nod at him, preparing myself.

“Do you remember when I met you for the first time at that campus party?”

“We actually met in Biology class the day before,” I remind him.

“Oh, yeah. Well, I offered to get you a drink and you told me no and then we got paired up for Chemistry lab the next day.”

I adjust my legs, fidgeting as nervously as I did that day we were paired up. I knew who he was, and his reputation, but I was quite sure he had no idea who I was. “Yeah,” I tell him quietly. “I remember that.”

“Okay, your turn.”

I stare out at the spring forest. I can’t pull one memory. “Can I skip?”

“Just this time.” He continues, “Do you remember when we went to that Japanese restaurant and I forgot to tell you I was allergic to shellfish? I swelled all up and we spent the night in the emergency room.”

“Yeah,” I giggle lightheartedly. “I remember that.” His face was swollen and red and I threatened to take a picture and send it to all of his friends.

“Okay,” he tells me. “Your turn.”

“Do you remember when…” It’s still so hard to pull a good memory of us to the forefront.

“Andie, come on, just try,” he urges.

“I am.” I stare out at the forest again. Finally, I think of one of the most important aspects of my life, what I did all of this for, what I risked everything for. Lina. “Do you remember when Catalina was a baby, and we brought her home and she was so small she barely fit in any of her baby clothes?”

Ian smiles. “Yeah, I remember that. Never expected her life to change so drastically.”

“She’s going to be ten soon,” I warn him.

“Can’t believe that.” He runs his hand through his hair.

“Me either. This wasn’t the plan I had for her future.”

“It was right, you were right, choosing her,” he stares into my face. “You had to choose her.”

“I’ll still never forgive myself.”

“Forgive yourself.” He reaches forward, brushing the hair off of my face.

“Your turn,” I tell him, trying to take his focus off of me.

He stares at me, thinking, and then a sly smile spreads across his lips. “Do you remember that summer I taught you how to swim?”

Oh, I remember that well. “Don’t you mean our first summer together when you tried everything possible to get me in my underwear or see me naked?”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” He smiles widely, showing a faint dimple and a row of perfectly straight white teeth.

“Not as fast as you had hoped.”

“Okay, your turn,” Ian tells me.

“Do you remember Lina’s first word?”

The memory comes to me easily, all of us sitting at the dinner table, Ian discussing his day, me half-asleep from staying awake after working a night shift. As Ian went on about the interns, he paused to say, “Can you believe that shit?” and like a little parrot Lina set her spoon down and chirped out, “Shit!” with a huge smile on her face and her two bottom teeth jutting out.

Ian tips his head back, laughing into the spring breeze. “I’m glad no one heard that besides us.”

“Your turn,” I tell him.

He looks out over the Pasture, his expression becoming a little more somber. “Do you remember all those times you showed up at my work to bring me to lunch?” He gives a half-hearted smile.

I glare at him. No, I don’t. And I wouldn’t, because he always begged me to meet him for lunch and I never did. I always told him I was too busy, that I didn’t have time. I can’t believe that he would bring this up now. That he would choose a moment that would make me feel like this. Guilty. Because I am guilty. Of being a bad wife, a horrible wife who would abandon her husband and move on with a new man. I guess that’s the problem with memories, we don’t all remember everything the same way. It’s subjective. This is where Akiyama’s plan backfires.

I am filled with hot anger. “Do you remember,” I spit out at him, “that time when I was getting ready for work and the house was a mess and Lina had on the same pajamas for two days and her hair hadn’t been combed and you wanted to know what was for dinner as you sat in front of the television? Do you remember that night I left? Because I do every single day! I remember coming home to look for you both and all the shit I went through that day, Ian. I had to walk home. Forty miles! Did Crane or anyone else tell you that? Did they tell you what I went through to find you and when I got here all I found was that our daughter was gone and you weren’t the same?” I try to control the rapid beating of my heart and the shaking of my hands, but I can’t.

The blood drains from Ian’s face.

Yeah, this little game definitely backfired. And I feel like an ass. I just told him not so long ago that I forgave him for not protecting Lina and now here I am, yelling at him about the same situation. It seems my heart and my brain are at a disconnect. I know I can’t blame him, but I can’t seem to get rid of those feelings from that day. I stand, ready to walk around the other side of the platform, to get away from him and climb down the ladder. Ian stands faster than I move. Gripping my shoulders, he stops me from dodging him.

“Andie-”

“I don’t think this little game is going to help us, Ian.” I can’t even look up at his face as I speak. Instead I stare at his shoulder, watching the muscle twitch as he squeezes my arm.

“You just have to give it time,” his deep voice becomes so soft.

“We don’t have enough time.”

“Yes, we have all the time we want now.”

“No, Ian, I thought we had time. I thought we had a normal life when it was just our little family, then everything changed. And I get the horrible feeling it’s going to change again soon. We don’t have all the time in the world to fix this.”

“That’s why you need to stop thinking about time and live in these moments, Andie, you need to be here now. Not somewhere in the future, trying to plan and worry. Be here now. For Lina and Raven and… me.” I move my eyes to his, as his hand moves to my face. “Do you remember-”

“I don’t want to play anymore,” I tell him.

He grips my chin, forcing me to make eye contact with him. “Be here, Andie. Do you remember when it was the Fourth of July and we were standing in the park watching the fireworks?” I nod at him, remembering those carefree summer days. “Do you remember that when they were done I turned to you and asked you if you would be my girlfriend?” I nod, my chin trembling. “Do you remember what you said?” I shake my head, my brain too scattered at the moment to remember every absolute detail. “You said maybe.”

His words make me remember. I did say maybe, because Ian had a reputation back then; he was a player and I didn’t want to be another name on his list of conquered girls.

“You said maybe,” he continues. “Not yes, or hell yes, or dear God yes, or anything. You said maybe and you smiled that little quiet smile you used to do and the summer park music played. You know what I was like back then, a college guy looking for one thing. You know what I would have done if you were just another girl, Andie. I would have walked away. But I didn’t give up on you then and I’m not going to give up on you now. I loved you from the first time I saw you and I love you now. You are my wife and I’m not going to give up so easily.”

“But I’ve done things,” I confess to him, looking away. “I’ve done bad things and I hurt you. There’s Raven-”

“I don’t care,” he tells me, his expressions seeming to vibrate between soft and cold. “I don’t care what you’ve done. I could be angry. I could be sad. God knows I’ve felt a combination of those feelings since Crane woke me up. But those feelings aren’t going to get me anywhere. What happened here is unbelievable, but we are still alive, we still have each other. If Crane hadn’t chosen you to do what you do, it could be worse, we could all be dead.” I barely contain my sharp intake of breath. There was a point when I thought I might have died, or that Crane might have killed me. I’m sure Ian can see it flash on my face. “Do you want to tell me about the other things?” he asks. “I know that there is a lot I don’t know about.”

I’ve only told one other person everything that has happened and now he’s dead, his makeshift gravestone solidly set in the ground just a few yards from the water tower ladder.

“You want to hear everything?” I ask. “What they did for two years while you were medicated?” He nods yes to me, dropping his hands from my shoulders. I raise my hand, self-consciously rubbing my finger over the now permanent bump in my nose from when Baillie broke it.

I sit and talk.

When I’m done spouting my memories, I finally look up to Ian. With his digestion of everything, the look on his face is the same as Adams was: cold and angered. His mood shifts as he notices me watching him, his features soften.

“Do you remember when,” he starts, “we were just married and had landed in Hawaii for our honeymoon?” I stare at him. “And we spent a whole week alone? It was just us and the beach.”

I’m not sure if it’s a smart thing for him to do, tethering one horrible memory with such a good one. For the moment it works. Those images of Baillie are replaced with ones of our honeymoon, with the beach and the sun and the hot nights in our rented bungalow. I get that clenching sensation in my stomach, the familiar one I used to get when we were young and in the early stages of our relationship.

He leans towards me. I wait, anticipating the pressure of his lips on mine and the familiar smell of him. Fueled by the memories of our honeymoon, it all comes flooding back, those feelings. This time I kiss him back and it all returns in a spark, an instant. The feelings. Every single one I’ve ever had for him. They flood me. A giant swelling wave so strong it’s ready to burst from my chest. I should stop. I shouldn’t let it go further. I should wait for us to heal, to weave and mend together like the roots of the old forest oak trees, deep and strong and unshakable. But I am weak. I can’t stop. This time I lean forward and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

--

“Mom!” I hear Lina’s voice as we near the courtyard. “Mom! Dad! Where are you?” she shouts.

Ian and I break into a sprint, running towards her voice. We find her at the edge of the courtyard looking thoroughly distraught; hair escaping from her ponytail, the ends tangled and curled, her eyes huge and watery.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, out of breath when we finally reach her.

“Stevie’s missing,” she tells me, her voice wavering, her face twisted with concern. Stevie usually spends her days lying on the floor of the schoolhouse, but she can leave as she pleases, thanks to the dog door Elvis installed.

“What do you mean?” I look around the empty courtyard. There is no Stevie and none of the Guardians are present.

“She never came back this morning,” Lina tells me. “She went outside and never came back. I’ve been waiting for her for hours.”

Ian’s brow wrinkles as he walks behind the schoolhouse, searching. We couldn’t have been gone more than a few hours.

“Okay, Lina.” I kneel down and hug her. “We’ll look for her. Come on, let’s get Raven first.”

I take Lina back to the schoolhouse. Blithe opens the door before we reach the porch. “Lina,” she starts, “you can’t just leave the schoolhouse. I can’t leave all the children here to look for you.”

I squeeze Lina’s hand. “Stevie’s missing,” I tell Blithe.

“Oh!” She steps back, allowing Lina to walk past her and take her jacket off the coat hook.

“We’re going to look for her,” I say as Lina passes between us again and sits on the porch steps.

Blithe turns and looks to the children in the classroom. “Okay,” she tells me. “We’ll help.”

“You don’t need to.”

“We do. The children love Stevie. She is as much a part of the classroom as one of the children.” Blithe reaches for the coat rack and, taking a canvas jacket off of one of the hooks, she pushes her arms through it. “Let me just get the children ready.”

I pick up Raven and, zipping his jacket up to his chin, I step off the porch. Lina sits on the steps, her hands cradling her cheeks. I squeeze her shoulder. “Come on, Lina, let’s start in the field.”

As we make our way behind the houses, Ian appears with Elvis at his side. “How long she been missing?” Elvis asks.

“I’m not sure,” I tell him. “Lina said that she went outside this morning and never came back.”

“Well, it’s nearly afternoon.” Elvis tips his hat and looks towards the sun. “We had better split up if we want to find her by dark.”

“Why don’t you stay with Blithe and the children?” Ian suggests.

“Sure,” I tell him as I hear Blithe close the school house door, walking with the other children in tow. I adjust Raven on my hip, waiting for them to catch up with us. Then we set off to search for Stevie.

We walk across the spring field, the wild iris and lavender brushing against our legs, the soles of our shoes caked with mud. The children shout for Stevie. A few of them bark, trying their best to make her appear or make a noise. The Guardians at the edge of the forest watch us. It seems they’ve multiplied again. I stop counting how many there are when I get to fifty.

When we reach the edge of the field, we turn to the west, headed for the acres of gardens. As the afternoon sun starts to dip in the sky, I get that panicked feeling that we might not find her. Lina becomes so upset that she begins to cry.

Blithe gives me a worried look as we walk between the rows of corn seedlings. “It’s past dinner time,” she tells me.

“Let’s head back,” I suggest.

We turn, leading the children back towards the courtyard as they continue to call for our missing dog. I leave Blithe at her house and tell the boys goodbye.

“We’ll never find her in the dark,” Lina tells me, her voice soft and distressed.

“Let’s get you something to eat, Lina. Daddy and Elvis will keep looking for her. I’ll call Sam to come help.”

“Okay,” she tells me, her head hung, dragging her feet.

Astrid takes Lina’s hand, trying to give her friend just a little bit of comfort. “It will be alright,” Astrid tells her in a quiet voice.

I cook a small dinner and try to keep the conversation off of Stevie as I rush them through the meal and into the bathtub. Just as I lay Raven down to sleep there is a knock at the door. I hear Lina’s footsteps as she runs to answer it, and as I make my way down the hall, I can tell from the scene before me that the news isn’t good. Ian stands on the porch, Elvis is a few feet away. He’s carrying what looks like a burlap sack over both of his arms.

Ian kneels in front of Lina. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he tells her.

Lina cries. She howls and screams and sobs as though she’s lost her best friend. She did just lose her best friend. Ian wraps his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest, muffling her sobs.

I walk down the steps and over to Elvis.

“What happened to her?” I ask. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself.

“Not sure. Found her at the back of the grazing lands lying by the far fence, edge of the property. There’s no wounds. Seems to be natural causes.”

I turn and see Astrid standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, chin trembling. I rush over to her and pick her up. Ian picks up Lina. We carry them both inside, doing our best to soothe their broken hearts. Ian rocks Lina and I sit with Astrid on her bed. We wait as they fall asleep, tucking them into bed when the sobs stop wracking their small bodies.

Together we leave the room and the sadness hits me as I close the door and don’t see Stevie lying at the foot of Lina’s bed. Stevie was my dog before she was Lina’s. And even though she slept each night at the foot of Lina’s bed, I would pat her head on my way out of the room and inform Stevie of what I was doing. She was always there, for all of us.

Trying not to wake the girls, I choke back the tears but it must have been loud enough for Ian to hear. When I turn around he is there, wrapping his arms around me, and just like our daughter did, I cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears. He rubs my back, his warm hand moving in slow circles over the thin fabric of my shirt, slowing slightly when he feels the scars that are there, scars he doesn’t know about.

While part of me wants to stay in the hallway with his warm arms wrapped around me, the rest of me wants to hide and privately deal with the losses that have been dealt to us in such a short time. Adam, Morris and Stevie. They are all dead. While Morris’s death was expected, the others weren’t. There was no time for goodbye. No planning for the grief. We will never enjoy another day with them in our lives.

The next day brings a spring thunderstorm, which just adds to the somberness of the house. I keep the children from school to mourn, spoiling them with warm milk and honey, cookies, and books filled with fairytales. Elvis visits, bringing Stevie’s collar and telling us that we can bury her the next day. We had already planned to bury Morris the next day. Just a simple act while the children were in class, with no more than Elvis and myself standing at the gravesite. I never thought we would be burying Morris and Stevie together.

The next day the girls pick handfuls of wildflowers. I show them how to wrap the stems with twine so they resemble bouquets.

When we are done and the dirt has been replaced, and small homemade bouquets rest on the mounds of fresh soil, there is an uncomfortable silence. As my eyes focus on Adam’s gravestone, Ian shifts on his feet. Raven wiggles in my arms. I set him down. He toddles to Adam’s gravestone. And staring in a quiet observation he reaches out with his chubby fingers and touches the cold granite. He stands like that for a moment as Lina and Astrid become consumed with picking the surrounding wildflowers and setting them on Stevie’s grave, which does not have a stone yet, just a perfect rectangle of overturned soil. And then, as though Raven has come to a conclusion, he turns from Adam’s gravestone and walks towards Ian, raising his arms, signaling he wants to be picked up. Ian lifts Raven into his arms, who rests his head on Ian’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

When Ian’s eyes finally meet mine I give him a small smile.

chapter thirteen

There is something about death that creates this strange urge to find comfort in the arms of someone else. Maybe it’s because we are looking for a reminder that we are alive, a celebration that our souls remain on this earth as our loved ones ascend into the heavens. I’m not certain what it is. All I know is that I want to be alive, for just a few minutes. I don’t want to feel like I have felt lately: lost and alone, even though I’m surrounded by family.

As the children sleep and Ian goes to the barn with the excuse of helping Elvis with farm work, I work on the Residents pairings. Of course, now it includes many more Residents, the new ones from Crystal River and a few in Wolf Creek, the District that lies on the eastern edge of Kansas. I scan the data, noting the Residents who have been preselected to get the injection with the DNA altering vectors, the ones which will forever alter these people, turning them into the subordinate humans that Crane so desires. He plans to start with a few hundred Residents from Phoenix, before subjecting the rest of the District Residents to the same therapy.

I immerse myself in the data for what must be a few hours until, feeling a soft prickle on the back of my neck, I look up and turn. Ian is standing quietly on the other side of the room.

“When did you start wearing glasses?” he asks me, his hair damp and curling from the heavy night air. He sounds slightly out of breath, like he just got done running.

I reach up, pulling the dark frames off of my face. “I just started,” I tell him. “I guess I’m getting old. All the computer work and reading has been making my eyes tired.” I glance at him as he kicks off a pair of muddy boots onto the mat near the door. “What are you doing?” I ask, replacing the frames and turning to save my work. I shut the computer down and leave the glasses on the small desk. Turning to receive Ian’s answer, I find him standing right next to me.

“Watching you work,” he says with an odd smile. I’ve seen this look on his face before: a mixture of sadness and tease. And I remember the last time I saw him look like this. It was after his parents died, and each anniversary after their deaths. He must be experiencing the same effects of the recent deaths as I am.

“Why?” I ask, standing.

“Because I like to,” his smile grows, but it’s odd, upturned on one end, and downturned on the other. A lock of light hair falls over his face and I want to reach up and swipe it away like I used to.

“Kind of like a creepy stalker?” I ask, trying to inject the sort of playful banter that we used to have into the conversation.

“Something like that.”

He searches my face and I watch as that look of remembering death melts away and a new one replaces it, still, a look I’ve seen before. He had it when we were married, and before we were married, the one that tells me he wants to kiss me and more. I realize in this moment I can be who I am supposed to be-his wife-or I can freeze and push him away just as I have been doing for so long. I weigh my options as he steps closer and that look in his brown eyes grows more intense.

He said that he wasn’t giving up on us. He begged me to try harder with us. And now with the recent deaths fresh in my memories, I find it hard to shy away from him as I’ve done for the past two years since he was released to me. This time, when he reaches out, cupping my cheek in his right hand and his left moving to my hip to pull me close, I don’t stop him. I don’t step away. Ian bends, pressing his lips to mine and I can smell the scent of lemons mixed with the night air. And with that kiss a million things seem to run through my mind. I can’t stop them. I can’t focus on him or the moment. I know I should be enjoying this. I used to enjoy this, a lot. And as though Ian senses my reluctance, his grip on my hip loosens, his hand leaves my cheek with a brush of his thumb across my jaw sending a sharp tingle down my neck.

Stop, I tell myself, stop thinking. Ian is here now. He is alive and well and his feelings for me are blatantly apparent, even after all that I’ve done. I let the guilt evaporate off of my conscience. I let my mind stop churning and simply enjoy. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press myself to him. Again, as though he senses my resolve, his arms squeeze me tighter as though he’s afraid he might lose me. Soon the kiss turns into much more than a kiss. It’s an unquenchable angst. And in my unthinking state I barely notice that he is directing the both of us down the hall, towards his bedroom.

“Wait,” I tell him, trying to catch my breath as the back of my knees hit his bed frame. But he doesn’t wait. He pulls his shirt off and I stare, my words at a loss. This is not the body of my husband, or at least, not the one I remember. Ian has never been heavy by any means, nothing more than a few comfortable extra inches to him, but he has never been like this; firm and taut, all angles and planes. His pants hang low on his waist and I can see the hip bone there jutting out like never before, catching the waistline of his jeans. A chording of muscle stretches across his flank, and it continues, the perfectly smooth skin stretched across more muscle, muscle that was never there before. Ian’s chest and abdomen are now taut, and contract with each motion he makes. When he reaches out to pull me to him I notice his arm like I never have before: the now narrow wrist, the webbing of blue veins visible under his too pale skin. Pulling me to him now, I feel those jutting bones press into me. I was aware that he had lost weight since this began, but this, this was not the Ian I have known through years of marriage. This is not my fair-haired, soft-mannered Ian. And I worry Crane may be changing him into someone else. Or maybe I have. Maybe it’s the years of worry and change that have done this to him, that have turned him into this changed man.

“Have you been…” I choke out an awkward cough, “working out?” I ask, hoping it doesn’t sound like a stupid pick up line but a true question.

“Yeah,” he smiles, his eyes hooded and glazed.

“Why?” I lay my palms on his warm shoulders.

“Because I have a family to protect,” he replies in a mere hurried whisper.

And then he is back to kissing me, securing his hand in my hair, demanding more, tipping my mouth to meet his. I put my hands on his chest ready to push him away but my arms don’t seem to obey. They stay there intact with his warm skin, savoring the heat and feel of him. His hand untangles from my hair as he reaches for my shirt and begins unbuttoning it.

The gravity of our current situation hits me. “Wait,” I tell him, placing my hands over his and closing my eyes, trying to focus, breathing much faster than I should be.

“I’m tired of waiting,” he tells me, shaking my hands off of his.

I shake my head at him, reaching to cover his hands again. “It’s not like I don’t want to go further, we just… we just can’t.”

“Why?” he asks, his question pained. “Why not, Andie? I’ve been waiting for so long. Too long.”

I feel the flare of embarrassment rise in my cheeks. “There are risks to doing this without… without birth control.”

“We always wanted more kids,” he offers as his hands roam down my sides, grasping my shirt at the hem.

“Not now.” I shake my head at him and cover his hands again, holding the shirt in place. “Not like this.” I think to step away from him, but I’m trapped between the bed and his body so close to me.

“What’s wrong with this?” His hands make a quick return to my shirt buttons.

“The world is a disaster.” I grip my shirt closed, afraid for him to see what’s underneath, the scars from all of this. “I never want to bring another child into this world. Not the way it is now. Not with Crane or any of the Entities or what I have to do.”

“You might change your mind,” he tells me as he dips his head and resumes his onslaught, kissing my neck, his hands roaming to my back, pressing me to him. “After all,” he whispers in my ear, “I am your pair. It is expected of us now.”

Dear God, he must have been reading the Manifesto. Or Crane mentioned this to him. “I’m serious, Ian.” I push him away, hard, the thought of Crane ruining the moment and causing me to remember the trouble I’ve already gotten myself into. “I don’t want any more children. None. End of story. You have to know this. You can’t tell me that you don’t feel the same way.”

“So is this strictly platonic then?” he asks, dropping his hands at his sides.

“If it has to be,” I reply. He gives me a look of agitation and defeat. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Sure,” he replies as he reaches for his discarded shirt at the end of the bed, still trapping me in his room.

“You don’t understand, Ian. Whoever I let close, Crane will use against me to get what he wants.”

“What does he want?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.” He looks at me one last time before turning swiftly on his heel and walking out of the bedroom. “Where are you going?” I ask after him.

He doesn’t reply, he doesn’t turn around. And I watch as he walks towards the front door, steps into his muddy shoes, and pulls the door open with an angered force before closing it quietly behind him. He leaves, just like he does each night. Although, I’ve only ever heard him, I’ve never watched him walk away like this with my own eyes. It seems I have pushed him away again and I worry that one of these times I’m going to push him so far that he may give up and never return.

This is not a step in the right direction. Dr. Akiyama will be quite dissatisfied.

chapter fourteen

“Good morning, Raven,” Blithe tells my son. “Are you going to speak today?”

He stares at her, twisting his cherub face before looking at me.

Something doesn’t seem right here. And it seems like Raven might actually be trying to tell me this. I remember what Crane said about him needing to meet his milestones; there is no other person to let on to Crane that there is anything wrong with Raven.

“Blithe,” I stop her as she leads the children indoors. “Do you have a second?” I ask her.

“Sure.” She closes the door and walks towards me.

“Do you know anything about Crane receiving reports on the children’s progress?”

She pauses, pondering whether or not she’s going to tell me the truth.

“Blithe?” I ask her.

She leans back to view the children through the window and turning back to me, she says, “I write reports on all the children and their progress. Those go directly to Crane.”

“You never thought to tell me?”

“I was instructed not to tell you,” she whispers to me.

“Why did you put in there that he isn’t meeting his milestones?”

“Because he isn’t. He’s almost two and a half and he doesn’t speak.” She says it so matter-of-factly, without the inclination that she used a bit of emotion in the report; it was just redacted facts about the children.

“He’s quiet, Blithe. He understands, he communicates in other ways.”

She opens her mouth as though she’s about to say something, but stops herself. This is not the Blithe I’ve known. She’s always been approachable, confident. Of course, I’ve never questioned her work before.

“I want you to change his report.” I demand before she says anything.

Blithe crosses her arms. “You want me to falsify his documents, the documents that sway Crane’s decision on the next generation of Sovereign?” In the moment of silence between us the spring breeze pulls loose a few locks of her blonde hair.

“I’ve trusted you, Blithe. What happened? You used to protect these children.”

“I have a job, like you have a job, and that is what ensures my safety here. And there have been other things on my mind.” Her eyes flick across the courtyard towards the barn.

“You know what Crane will do to Raven. He’s just a baby. He suggested euthanizing him or sending him outside the gates. I can’t let that happen. You can’t let that happen.”

Her eyes widen, then narrow the tiniest bit as she realizes the rocks I am stuck between. “Let’s make a deal,” she offers.

“What kind of deal?”

“I’m not getting any younger, Andie. I want a family.”

“A family? But you have all these children. The boys are your family now, and if more children come you will be responsible for them also.”

“No.” She shakes her head slightly. “A real family. A husband, children of my own.”

“What are you proposing?”

“You’re the District Matchmaker-”

“What are you getting at?” I interrupt.

“I want Sam.”

“What?” I reach out and grasp the post of the porch.

“You heard me.” She smiles and I have a hard time telling if it’s one of slight embarrassment or slyness. “I want Sam. I want us matched together.”

“I… I can’t do that.”

“You want Raven’s reports altered. I want Sam.”

“You are both Sovereign. I don’t decide for the Sovereign. You can choose whoever you want.”

“That’s what you think.” She leans back, checking on the children through the window again. “Make the data work, Andie. Make it gleam and glow. Make it match perfectly. Just like yours and Adam’s did. Then Crane will have no worries about the arrangement.”

I step back. “How do you know anything about our data?”

“Crane has a close eye on everything you do. I’ve managed to find a few things out.”

“I didn’t alter our data!” I snap at her.

“Sure, maybe you didn’t, but you could. You think Crane would allow anything but perfection from the Sovereign? If it doesn’t work, he won’t allow it. He’ll put an end to it, just like he wants to put an end to your son.”

“When did you turn into this?” I ask.

“This is just a side of me you’ve never seen. Crane, sometimes he brings out the best in us or the worst. Take it as whatever you want.”

Her eyes flick away for just the tiniest fraction of a second. And it’s in that movement I know she’s not telling me something.

“Blithe.”

“Andie.”

“There’s more. You’re hiding something. Tell me.”

She sighs while maintaining her tall, unwavering stature. “While Crane threatens your child’s existence, he threatens me for not adding to the Sovereign children’s gene pool.”

“Are you saying he wants you to have children?”

She nods stiffly.

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing, Andie. I looked at my prospects here. We have Alexander, Crane, and Elvis. I’d die long before selecting any of them. Sam’s my only choice.”

“He’s my brother. No,” I shake my head, “I can’t do this.”

“If he ships me out, Andie, just think of who could replace me. We know each other. We’ve been here since the beginning. I am willing to lie to Crane to save your son’s life.”

I take a deep breath as my options run through my head. Really, though, I have no options.

“And Sam,” I ask Blithe, “Does he even want you? I’m not forcing my little brother into a relationship he doesn’t want.”

“He’ll want me. I’ll make sure of that.”

“And you’ll alter Raven’s reports?”

“Yes.”

I give her a hard look before I respond. “Deal.”

“Thank you,” she tells me, letting out a breath of relief just before turning and walking into the schoolhouse.

I look after her, realizing what I’ve done: I just traded my brother for my son.

--

I stare at the three graves: Morris, Adam, and Stevie. I begin to realize that I may never enjoy the comforting knowledge that I could grow old, retire, mingle with the old bitties in the nursing home, sipping on my wine and slapping the asses of the young male nurses. No, I will most likely never make it to that age. I’m sure it won’t be long before Lina and Raven stand in this same place, staring at five headstones, mine and Ian’s added, maybe even Sam.

I sigh. I shouldn’t have come here. This is depressing.

A cluster of tall grass sways in the breeze in front of Adam’s stone. I’ve forgotten. I can barely remember what he looked like, the sound of his voice, the delicious way he smelled. I want to tear the grass up and find his shirt I buried there. I want to press it to my face and take a deep breath and remember. Even though I know it’s wrong and I need to move on, I don’t want to forget him. For some strange reason the heated evening with Ian just made me want to remember. I don’t know why, it seems so wrong, and if Ian knew what I was about to do, he’d be pissed. But I just can’t stop myself, even with all that has improved between me and Ian, the progress we’ve made in our relationship. We can hold conversations now; we’ve even kissed a few times.

Turning away from the graves, I run, the sound of the Guardians paws striking the ground as they follow me is the only thing I can hear. They know I’m going to do something stupid. Somehow they can sense it.

I take Elvis’s keys and drive, speeding towards town. The Guardians that pushed their way into the vehicle before I could close the door growl from the backseat. I drive past my old street, Grenadier Street. Adam told me his parents lived not far from my house. I circle the blocks, driving slow and reading the mailboxes.

Most of the Residents are working now. I pass some as they sweep the sidewalks and tend to their spring gardens, turning the soil, getting the dirt ready for planting. The factions have been instructed to ensure all of the houses look tidy, even the empty ones, which we have a lot of here. A mother walks by with her children; two identical boys, the twins. I know them, the first twins born in the District. They should be almost four now. I drive the next block, stopping sharply when I see it, the mailbox with Waters written on it.

I park the SUV in the street. The Guardians follow me when I get out, headed for the front door. Through the windows I can see it’s dark inside, and I can tell from the layers of dust on the windowsills that no one lives here. I reach for the door handle, turning it; to my amazement it’s unlocked. I push my way inside.

There are coats by the door, shoes along the wall. I walk down the hallway, turning into the living room. I look at the pictures on the walls, in the living room and the dining room. There is a mother, father and daughter. No son. I scan the walls, the display cabinets, the shelves. I make my way to the kitchen, the floorboards creaking under my feet. There are dishes drying in the sink. They should be plenty dry for the years they’ve sat there. One of the bowls is bleached from the sun. There is a small table next to me, keys in a bowl, a wallet, mail. I pick up one of the letters. Mail, something we haven’t had here in so long. It’s addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Waters. I flip open the wallet. There is a driver’s license for James Waters. This has to be the right house. I wander, searching each wall for any indication of a son. I climb the stairs, a Guardian at my heels. This is eerie, walking through the house of people long dead, seeing their memories, their belongings.

I find two rooms, one glaringly obvious that it is a teenage girl’s room, painted a light purple color with pictures and magazine pages taped to the wall. There is a foam cutout of the high school mascot, the Phoenix Firebird, resting next to a pair of red and white pom-poms.

Making my way across the hall I find another bedroom that is sparsely decorated, just a simple green quilt covering the bed. This must be the master bedroom. There is one last door at the end of the hallway. I walk to it, my footsteps muffled by the shag carpet. The Guardians watch me from the stairs. I pray that when I open the door, I will get a glimpse of his life before this. Maybe there will be pictures, something that smells like him, a T-shirt I can steal. I twist the door handle and push the door open. It’s empty. There is no furniture, no pictures, nothing. I stand in the room, alone. There is no indication of these people having a son. Maybe I’m at the wrong house? Or maybe they were just so distraught by their son’s death that they got rid of everything. Maybe they couldn’t stand another moment living with all of his memories so they got rid of them.

I walk down the stairs in defeat. When I make it to the living room, I circle it, stopping at the fireplace. Something catches my eye, a dark yellow envelope behind one of the pictures. I push the picture of a smiling girl aside. There is an envelope, with Andie written across the front of it.

But no one I actually know lived here and since I can find no trace of him, I can’t even be certain that this was Adam’s family. I pull the envelope down, holding it in my hand. There’s something inside, something solid, bulky. I open the clasp and peer inside. There’s no letter, just a cellular flip-phone and a charging cord.

A phone… This is Adam’s cell phone! The one he got off his contact, just before the bombings. The one I used to call Sam while we were on tour. It has to be. I open the phone, press the power button. Nothing happens. It must need to be charged.

I’m interrupted by the sound of sirens blaring. The same sirens I’ve heard here, the same sirens I heard in Crystal River, which means the power to the fence is down or off or there’s some other problem. Oh God, no.

I run out of the empty house, slamming the door behind me, the Guardians at my heels as I run to the SUV. I rush through the town streets, making my way back to the Pasture as the Residents continue on with their daily activities and duties, as though the sirens weren’t whistling through the air.

--

Elvis and Ian are leaving the Pasture just as I arrive. I pull over, park and run to their vehicle. Elvis rolls his window down.

“What’s going on?” I ask, out of breath.

“Survivor at the gates,” Elvis tells me. “Get in.”

Ian reaches behind him and opens the back door of the SUV.

“Where’s Sam?” I ask.

“Probably already there,” Elvis replies.

“What about the kids?” I ask, worried about Lina and Raven.

“They’ll be fine here,” Elvis tells me as he drives down the driveway. “This place is safe. Ms. Black and the Guardians will keep them safe.”

The forest blurs by as Elvis speeds in the direction of where they keep the train. The rocks of the gravel parking area grind under the tires as Elvis brakes hard. We all get out and make our way for the Gateway. As I follow Elvis and Ian, Ian reaches back and grasps my hand, pulling me along at a faster pace. We walk parallel to the train tracks, past the cement wall and towards the electrified fence.

What I see is too familiar to what we took part in not that long ago in Crystal River: a row of Volker stand a few yards from the fence. I notice Sam’s tall frame as we get closer. Elvis jogs ahead of us. I skip a few steps to keep up with Ian’s pace.

“Who’s out there?” Elvis asks.

“They said they saw a figure. Weren’t sure who,” Sam replies as we walk up next to him.

And then the figure appears, silently, without the rustle of the underbrush. Just like a ghost. It’s a girl, a mere teenager with an oversized New York Yankees sweatshirt and mud brushed jeans. She’s wearing a pair of boots that reach to her knees.

“Can I help you?” Sam asks the girl loudly.

“You could,” she replies with a soft smile, an innocent voice.

“Do we let her in?” I whisper to Elvis.

He shakes his head. “Just wait and see what else happens.”

“You could help me,” the Survivor girl continues pushing her inky black hair out of her face. “You could let me in and keep me safe.” She suggests, her face turning devilish. “Mo swaf,” she tells us with the same thick Creole accent of the Survivors outside of Crystal River.

I reach out and grab the back of Sam’s shirt as he raises his firearm and aims it on the girl.

“What did she just say?” Ian asks.

“She’s speaking Creole,” I tell him, “like the Survivors that tried to break in at Crystal River.”

“What does she want?” Ian asks.

“To get shot in the head,” Sam replies.

“Get out of here!” Elvis orders the girl loudly, waving her away.

She walks closer to the fence, tipping her chin in the same manner as the boy and man did in Crystal River. But this time, our fence is at full power and it’s not long before she gets close enough for the electric hum of the fence to affect her. She reaches up, brushes her sleeve across her nose, leaving a streak of bright red blood across her face. And then there is a sharp triple whistle from somewhere behind her. Just like the men and boys in Crystal River, she slithers back into the forest, silently.

“Swamp people,” Elvis starts. “Like cockroaches. They’ll survive anything.”

As Sam’s radio receives the transmission that we are to go directly to Headquarters, I’m stuck with the realization that I brought the Survivors back, showed them where we lived. I did this, this is my fault. I just put my entire family at risk. Elvis is right, I need to go get the others on board and collect troops and supplies. We need to be ready in case the swamp people come back, in case they bring more of their kind.

--

“We’ve been found,” Crane announces to the Committee. “The Survivors have found our gates and now we need to make preparations to defend this District.”

Crane has summoned Elvis to this meeting. And for the first time, it seems Crane isn’t directing the meeting, he’s genuinely asking for help in deciding what to do.

“We need to prepare,” Elvis tells Crane. “The Survivors could still outnumber us. And if they get in, if they breach our walls, everything we have worked for here could be over.”

Crane nods his head. “We need weapons, more than what we already have, and troops.”

“Hanford has weapons,” Alexander offers.

“Tonopah has more than enough troops,” Elvis says.

I shudder at the thought of Tonopah. I look at Sam. He has yet to offer any ideas. But he is young and inexperienced, much too young for this position he was put in.

“Who will we send?” Crane asks.

“I’ll go,” Sam offers.

I throw him a glaring look. He’s not ready for this.

Crane agrees immediately. “Good,” he replies as he types into the computer in front of him. “I want a full inventory of our weapons,” Crane tells Sam. “This meeting is dismissed. Be ready to act,” he warns us as we stand to leave.

“Give me your keys,” I tell Ian as we descend in the elevator. He tips his head, questioningly. “Just… Ride with Elvis. I need to talk to Crane.”

“Andie-” His eyes search my face.

“Just trust me, Ian. Give me your keys.”

He drops the key into my open palm. As I wait for the others to leave I sit in the Headquarters vestibule, contemplating long and hard on what I’m about to do. I don’t want to do it, I don’t want to leave, but I have to do this to keep us safe, to make sure my children stay safe. The Volker at the doors pretend not to watch me, but I know they are, this is their job.

Returning to the elevator and pressing the button to Crane’s floor, I make my way to Crane’s office, alone, determined, and fully aware of the situation I’m about to put myself in.

Crane’s face brightens as the elevator doors open, seeing me there. “Ah, Andromeda, to what do I owe this visit?” he asks. “It’s as though I just saw you ten minutes ago.”

I think he just told a joke. Of all the inappropriate moments to choose. “We need to talk,” I tell him.

He walks across the room and sits behind his desk. “What would you like to talk about?” he asks, raising his finger to his chin.

I lean against his desk, arms and feet crossed. I have to lie. I suck at lying. I have to do my best acting. I have to make Crane believe that I need to go there. “I want to be the one to go with Sam to collect supplies and troops.”

“Why, Andromeda, you hate leaving the Phoenix District. Why would you willingly take off and leave your children behind?”

“This is different,” I tell him.

“How do you think?”

“Sam isn’t ready to go out there. He isn’t ready to meet those people alone.”

“What’s wrong with those people?” Crane asks innocently.

I shake my head at him. “You know what I mean. You sent me out there before with Adam. I know what they’re all like and I won’t even begin discussions about Sakima. You can’t let them sharpen their teeth on Sam, not now, not with those Survivors lurking at our gates.”

Crane smiles, fully aware that Sakima is a psychopath, just like him. “He’s been fully trained. I assure you, Andromeda. I wouldn’t send Sam if I didn’t believe he was ready.”

I shake my head. “I don’t believe you, Crane.”

“Fine,” he sets his palms on his desk. “You can go. But first, we call to warn them.”

“About me?”

“No,” he laughs lightly. “They need no warnings about you. We warn them about the Survivors, or at least this particular group of Swamp-people Survivors.”

“Most of the other Districts have seen Survivors already,” I tell him.

“Yes,” he smiles condescendingly at me. “But this is the first time we’ve had an incident. Usually they are scraping and begging to be let in, they have never delivered a direct threat to us.”

“This doesn’t make sense. Why these people? You obliterated this country. How did they survive?” I ask.

“We didn’t bomb the wetlands,” Crane replies.

“Why?”

“Too rich with wildlife. The wetlands and swamps are the heart of nature. We couldn’t damage those. It would go against everything we are trying to accomplish.”

For a moment I am at a loss for words and simply blink at him.

“No need to stress over it. You just mull that around in your brain for a bit, Andromeda.”

I stand by as he dials each of the other Districts and informs them of the Survivors and the need to prepare in case they attack.

“Now,” Crane closes the open tab on his computer screen after ending his last call with Sakima. “You go and prepare, you leave in the morning.”

I walk to the door, ready to leave, but something nags at me and I don’t have the sense to stop myself from asking.

“Why are they so afraid of you, Crane?”

He smiles. “I know their secrets. And they know what I am capable of. Also, I have something that they all would like to have.”

“Secrets don’t keep people that afraid of someone.”

“Perhaps if you knew their secrets, then you would understand. Would you like to know them?” he offers.

“No,” I tell him. The less I know the better. Then I think to ask, “Who are you afraid of, Crane?”

“Me?”

“There has to be someone above you. You can’t be the mastermind of this all by yourself.” He gives a wicked smile. “So who are you afraid of? I know that the Entities work as a whole to keep you under control, there has to be one of them that you are afraid of.”

“Why, Andromeda, there is only one person on this earth whom I fear.” He gives an annoying pause. “You.”

I step back. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why would you fear me?”

“Do you ever wonder why I keep tabs on you, why I keep such control over you? Because I fear you and what you are capable of and what you will become.”

He’s playing mind games again. “You didn’t need to lie to me, Crane. No answer would have been better than that half-assed response.”

He simply smiles back at me. “You think I would let the other Sovereign speak to me like that?” he asks, pointing one long, freckled finger at me.

“I don’t much care right now. I have to go pack.”

“I’ll meet you at the tracks in the morning,” he tells me as I walk out of his office.

--

As I drive, I think of how I can do this again. Leaving the District, entrusting the safety of Lina and Raven to others. At least I have the phone Adam left for me. I think back to his house, where I was early this morning, searching for some sign of who he was, searching for some memory.

Maybe I didn’t have time to fully think about the lack of evidence that Adam was a part of the Waters family. But then, I didn’t see one trace of his existence in that house. Something doesn’t make sense.

I turn sharp, changing my direction from headed to the Pasture to the graveyard.

A sea of gray gravestones spreads out before me. There was once a gravel road here, weaving between the grave plots. Now it’s overgrown with shrubs and tall grass. I park on the side of the road. Walking between the graves I search for the headstones marked Waters.

The task seems overwhelming. And so do the memories from the last time I was out here alone, making my way home. It’s too easy to remember watching Adam fall to his knees and grieve for his family. Of course, now I’m wondering if that was even his family. I wander up the hill, finding the large oak tree I sat under waiting for him. I turn towards the south. Seeing the large stone wall that I watched our Residents build that day and for weeks after, effectively keeping everyone out of here.

I continue my walk, meandering between the granite jutting from the ground, searching for the stones, until I find them. They are the same as the day we were here, except for now there are overgrown dandelions flanking the sides of the stone.

Jim Waters

Margaret Waters

Samantha Waters

Their dates of death are the same. The soft dirt now replaced with a fine summer grass. I hear the distant caw of the crows in the oak tree. I wish I knew what I was looking for. And then a crow flutters down from the tree, landing a few yards away on the top of a gravestone. It stares at me, blinking its beady eyes, cocking its head to the side as though it’s waiting for me to speak. I imitate its movement, tipping my head, wondering what it’s doing here, staring at me. It caws loudly before flapping its large black wings and rising into the air. I look at the stone it was perched on, walking towards it. Stopping, I back up and look at the dates of death from the Waters gravestones and back to the stone that the crow was resting on. And it hits me with a shock and a realization that I’ve been lied to once again, because the dates of death are the same. And of course, these names are different and there is only one gravestone.

Mr. and Mrs. Whitmarsh

Looking to the surrounding gravestones, there are none for a child, a sister or daughter with the same last name or dates of death. I walk back to the Waters gravestones, and kneeling just where I remember Adam did that day. And then, looking forward, I see that I have the perfect view of the Whitmarsh gravestones.

The awareness hits me stronger than I might have guessed. Maybe it was because I trusted him, because I thought we were close, because I was pregnant with his child-of all things-and stupidly I thought that might make him trust me more. He lied to me about his identity. Perhaps the crow was his last hint, now that he is dead. Maybe he’s trying to send a message from the afterlife or a clue for me to figure this out.

It seems Adam was a particularly good actor.

How could I not sense that he was sent here under an alias, with what he told me he was doing, this mission he was on? All this time I’ve been telling Raven stories about his father and now I realize that they were all lies. I have no idea who Adam really was and neither will his son.

Rubbing my arms in the darkening day, my palm runs over the small bump from the transmitter Crane injected under my skin. The skin now healed a light pink color. And I remember the day I found that Adam had one, and I cut it from his skin when he returned from a run for supplies. I look around me, all the bodies resting under my feet, their memories now encased within the cold gray rock. Perhaps Adam got the best part of the deal; the end, no longer here to play in the Phoenix District games.

I think that he got the easy way out.

I turn my back on the stones and walk the overgrown path out of the graveyard. I make my way to the SUV I left at the roadside. The tree of crows begins cawing at my back, shrieking and squawking. A deep shiver runs up my spine. I glance back at the dark tree, and, intimidated by the birds, afraid that they might take flight and peck me to death, I run the rest of the way to the SUV.

--

The children are asleep, even after telling them that I was leaving in the morning. I hope this is the last time, the last trip I’ll ever have to make out of here. Now I have to focus on the task at hand; collecting supplies, preparing for an attack. But what I’ll really be doing is rallying the District leaders against Crane in an effort to overthrow him. I just have to gather the other Sovereign and then we will be set free of Crane. We will be set to defend ourselves against the Survivors. And I will finally have peace with my children. And I can watch them grow and all I will be responsible for are the pairings.

We wait until Blithe has turned all of her lights off. This time we meet in the dark courtyard.

“Who do you think will be the easiest to get on board?” Elvis asks me.

“Torres should be simple,” I tell him. “I’m not so sure about Ruiz, there’s something about him that I just don’t trust.”

“It’s the fancy watch,” Elvis says with a smirk. “No one should still be wearing a watch like that.”

“Maybe.” I catch Ian watching me closely as I speak of these people he has never met, The Entities. “Crossbender will be an easy in. John Blackmore from Wolf Creek might take some convincing. I haven’t met any of the other Sovereign from those two Districts.”

Elvis nods his head. “What about Berkley in Galena?” he asks.

“No. I’m not going to Alaska on this trip. There’s not enough time.”

“Alaska’s not on the agenda,” Sam agrees with me. “Besides, Berkley has nothing to help us.”

“Berkley is scared shitless of Crane. So when it comes down to it, I doubt he’ll go against our plan,” I say.

“So what does that leave?” Ian asks.

“Tonopah,” I say wearily.

“What do you think of them?” Sam asks.

I catch Elvis shaking his head from side-to-side. He knows what I’m going to say, before I say it. “Tonopah is no good. The Entity ruling there is Sakima. He runs an… interesting ship.”

“How so?” Sam asks.

“There are ten Sovereign who are all on the Halcyon protocol.”

“Wait,” Ian interrupts me. “What’s Halcyon?”

“That’s the medication they give the Residents.”

“So why is he giving it to the Sovereign?”

I take a deep breath, not wanting to waste my time with these details, but then I remember that Ian doesn’t know this. “Sakima wants control over them all. His committee members sit at the gates all day and decide who will be let in from the Survivors to work in the District and keep it running. There is no weaning off the medication. Even their Volker are on a low dose of it. And everyone who visits.”

“Didn’t you go there?” Ian asks.

“Yeah.”

“Did you take the medication?”

“No. I figured out what he was doing ahead of time. The rest of our crew wasn’t so lucky.”

“Where was it?”

“In the food. This is why we don’t eat food from other Districts, especially from Tonopah.”

The sound of soft footsteps causes me to stop talking.

“It’s okay,” Elvis tells us as he moves to the side and turns.

Ian and Sam look at each other in a silent preparation to deal with trouble. I watch as a shadowed figure walks up next to Elvis. I take a few steps back, ready to hide behind the men. Then, I notice, it’s Alexander.

“What is he doing here?” I ask Elvis through clenched teeth.

Alexander holds up his hand. “It’s okay, Andie.”

“No. I don’t trust you.” I point at him.

“You don’t trust anyone,” Alexander responds with cool confidence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m in. I’m joining your Resistance, under one condition.”

“What?”

“When this is over, when Crane is out, I’m going back to Hanford. I’m not getting any younger and my family is there. I want to spend time with them before I die.”

“You’re not dying.” I tell him.

“We are all dying, Andromeda. And to answer your earlier question, Crossbender is in. And I suggest spending as little time in Tonopah as possible. You could probably skip that stop.”

“Crane wants us to get troops from Tonopah,” I tell him.

“Do you really think troops from Tonopah are a good idea? Think about it,” Alexander suggests. “Morris was expected to explain this to you before he died. Maybe he was too sick to remember, but let me tell you now: those are Sakima’s people. Those people answer to Sakima and only Sakima. You bring them here then you will be running into the same problem we had when our own Residents were uprising. They won’t listen to us, they won’t trust us. Get the horses from Wolf Creek and the weapons from Hanford. Skip Tonopah. And Galena is no good. Crane has old President Berkley running at a minimum and we can buy his membership into this little club easily. So, take the guns and the horses, swing by Crystal River. Emanuel Torres will be easy to get on board. Just be careful of Ruiz, he’s greasy. Buy them with weapons and horses. They’ve had Survivors at their gates threatening them also. Seems to be a band of them running communications up and down the east coast. When that’s done make your way home.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so much at once, Alexander,” I point out.

“I’ve never had much to say. But this,” he waves an arm towards the town. “This is important. And I’d like to see Crane out. He’s nothing but a crazed worm rotting our apple.”

“And when Crane is out, what happens to us?” I ask.

“We continue as we are, just without Crane.”

“So there will still be Districts, we will still be turning the Residents into docile humans.”

“It’s already been set in action,” Alexander tells me. “There’s no reason to stop it. We don’t want things to go back to the way they were. We will be safe. The Districts are running perfectly. This is exactly what the original Entities were looking for. A better society. A healthy planet. This was the original plan. We needed Crane’s help and now we no longer need his help.”

“That sounds like something Crane would say,” I tell Alexander.

He shrugs, neither admitting nor denying it.

--

“I can’t believe you’re leaving in the morning again,” Ian tells me as we stand in the living room. “That it’s finally starting and we are one step closer to being free from Crane.”

“I’m not sure if we’ll ever truly be free, Ian.”

“Why do you have to do that?”

“What?”

“Twist everything around. Be so negative.”

“Because I’ve seen what these people do. They just want Crane out of the picture. We will still be treated the same, our futures will remain as they are. Sometimes I wonder, with Crane being as crazed as he is, he might actually be protecting us, our family, against the others.”

“Okay.” He nods his head, looking around the living room at the few bags I have packed and set near the couch.

“I’m leaving you with the children.”

“I know,” he replies firmly.

I hold back the warning I want to give him about the last time I left Lina in his care.

He must sense my apprehension. “I won’t let anything happen to them, Andie,” he promises me.

“I know,” I tell him, trying to convince myself.

“When you went to Florida, nothing happened. It won’t this time either.”

“I’m going to be gone longer this time,” I tell him. “And I’m taking Sam. You need a plan. If the Survivors get in, if Crane pulls something, you need to be ready to run with Lina and Raven.”

“Elvis says we’ll be fine.”

“Don’t put all your trust in Elvis.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you the reason. I can only warn you.”

“Alexander was right. You don’t trust anyone.”

“You shouldn’t either. Do you have a plan?”

“Yes. I have a plan to get the children away from here.”

“Guns, supplies,” I remind him. “Lina is like a walking map, Ian.” I start to pace the living room.

“I know,” he tells me proudly.

“I think we should meet up in Hanford if there’s a problem.”

“That’s across the country.” He shakes his head. “We’d never make it that far. Not with two kids in tow.”

One of the Guardians shifts in its sleep in the hallway. “The Guardians will follow you. They’ll keep you safe.”

“You put a lot of trust in those dogs.”

“I trust them more than most people.”

“Okay, so Hanford.”

“You’ll be safe there. We can trust them. If you have to, stop at Wolf Creek. I wasn’t there long enough to get a good understanding of Blackmore. Still, if I get him on board he’s not going to shun my family.”

“Okay,” Ian agrees.

“I should get some rest,” I tell Ian, hanging my jacket on the hook next to the door. Ian does the same, following behind me as I walk down the hallway, headed for my bedroom. But just as I reach for my door handle, Ian grasps my arm.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, turning to see that he is standing close and I can smell the scent from the burning embers in the courtyard fire.

He smiles, his hand moving up my arm and tugging me away from my bedroom door. “Making sure you don’t forget me while you’re gone.”

“I won’t forget you,” I tell him as he pulls me towards his room.

“I just want to make sure.” He leans in for a deep kiss. “I was afraid you forgot me before.”

I pull back, seeing everything on his face that he told me he forgave me for. “I never forgot you, Ian. You were on my mind every day, every minute.”

I let him lead me to his bed, grateful to be off my feet since it seems my legs have become wobbly, no doubt as a direct effect of his mouth and his hands. And before long I can tell what’s happening. I remember the familiar feelings, the way his body reacts, the way mine does. I stifle a moan when he nibbles on the sensitive skin of my neck. He’s getting too intense. I know where this goes next. And I already told him why I can’t.

“Ian, stop.” I press my hands against his chest.

“Shhh, it’s ok.” He tugs at my shirt. His fingertips brush against my abdomen, making it quiver.

“No it’s not, we can’t risk-”

“I found something to help,” he interrupts, turning around and reaching into a drawer.

“What?” I ask out of breath.

He holds up a box… a box of condoms!

Covering my face with both hands, I let out a groan. This is so embarrassing. I feel like a teenager, my own husband begging me to sleep with him, scouring the town for the last box of condoms so I don’t get pregnant.

“What do you think?” He kisses my neck in that tender spot again.

“I don’t know, Ian.” I look at the box and then back to his face. “It’s been a while. A long while. I may have forgotten what to do.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you what to do,” he says with a wicked grin.

The Collection of Sovereign and Supplies

chapter fifteen

Just like our recent trip to Crystal River, Crane is sending us out sparsely equipped. It’s just me, Sam and four Guardians. This time the train has been equipped with extra cars for the horses and weapons.

There are only Crane and the Volker crew that watch the gateway out of here to send us off as Sam and I load our respective bags onto the engine car.

“Godspeed,” Crane tells Sam as he shakes his hand.

Sam nods.

Crane turns to me. “You will hurry back won’t you?” Crane asks me. It’s a strange question since he knows just how much I dislike leaving the comforts and familiarity of my home and children.

“Of course I will.” I give him a short smile.

We board the train and Crane waves from the platform as we pull away.

--

Wolf Creek

“This is nice,” Sam tells me as we pull into the Wolf Creek District. He admires the view from the elevated train tracks which branch out over the fields.

As we pull up to the platform we see a man waiting for us. It’s John Blackmore, their District Moderator. I forgot how much John reminds me of Elvis, tanned and rugged with his sandy-brown hair and wide smile.

“It’s been a long time,” John shakes my hand. “You’re looking well.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, remembering how sick and pregnant I was the last time I was here. “John, meet Sam Salk, the Phoenix District Volker Sovereign.”

“Nice to meet you.” John gives Sam a hearty handshake and claps him on the shoulder. “What happened to Colonel Waters?” he asks me.

“He died.” Sam gives me a look, like I might break or cry, but I don’t. I already told Adam’s grave what I think of him. “Just over two years ago,” I tell John. “You didn’t hear?”

“Don’t have much time for gossiping out here.” He replaces his hat, an old baseball cap which the embroidery has been pulled out of, removing whatever team it represented. “My condolences.” He tips the hat at us. “I hear the Survivors are getting antsy up in the northeast.”

“We’ve had a few threats in Phoenix and at Crystal River,” I tell him.

“Have you had any here?” Sam asks.

“None so far. I imagine most didn’t make it though. Or they went further south to escape the worsening winters, seek refuge in South America.”

“But South America was slated for Reformation,” I say.

“Survivors didn’t know that,” John replies.

I feel terrible for those people. Living through the destruction here only to seek refuge in another country and relive it all over again.

“So you think you’ll use the horses for transportation?” John asks.

“That’s the plan,” Sam tells John. “The roads are mostly overgrown outside the District walls. We think the horses will give us better mobility in an attack from the Survivors.”

“Hmm.” He scratches his sideburns. “I don’t know much about fighting, but I guess that would work.”

We stand in a moment of silence, watching a herd of buffalo run in the nearby field. The ground vibrates under our feet as the beasts thunder across the plains.

“So, the horses,” John waves us along to follow him. “This change of events isn’t what we’ve been planning for out here. As you know,” he motions towards me. “This District was set up for reintegrating the domesticated animals into the wild. I was surprised by Crane’s orders. Usually he doesn’t budge much on the rules.” He heads down a gravel walkway towards a large red barn. “We’ve had to change our operating procedure because of this. These horses were slated for release into the wild. We had to gentle and train them. Since we didn’t have much time I’m afraid a few are still a little wild. That’s why I have to send them with a handler. We’re hoping they’ll be ready for riding not long after you arrive back in Phoenix.”

“We weren’t planning on bringing another person back with us,” Sam tells John.

“I know. I cleared it with Crane already. We didn’t have much time to get them ready.”

We continue into the barn and unlike the last time I was here the individual stalls have been removed and what remains is a large gated open space. There are horses with gleaming coats of all different colors and patterns. They take one look at us as we approach and a few gallop away, others seem to stand and stare at us. A cowboy-looking man walks around the fence, making his way towards us.

“This is Tim Johnson, he’ll be looking after the horses,” John tells us.

Tim looks young, as though he’s in his mid-thirties. He has dark hair, a faint beard and a cowboy hat on.

He tips his hat at us. “Howdy,” he says with a smile, reaching out to shake our hands.

“Tim, this is Andie Somers and Sam Salk. They’re the people from the Phoenix District that I told you about.”

“Pleasure,” is all he replies with before he turns back to the horses.

John starts walking again, circling around the gated area until we reach an open door. Inside there is an office space with rows of filing cabinets and a desk.

“Just need you to sign for the horses, their food, and handler,” John tells us.

“Sign?” I ask.

“Yes. I keep records here. How much livestock comes in, what’s bred here, and what’s released back to the wild.” He holds a pen out to me and flattens a piece of printed paper on his desk. “Just in case there are any problems or issues with their genetic vitality. Don’t want a repeat of what happened here before.”

“Sure,” I tell him, taking the pen from his hand. I scan the piece of paper. It’s an invoice listing fifty horses which all seem to have identification numbers, there’s barrels of food and water, bales of hay, and of course a note stating that Tim Johnson is leaving with the horses. I sign my name at the bottom and hand his pen back.

“I have something to speak with you about, John.”

“What’s that?”

“We need to go outside, where it’s private.”

“Sure.”

We make our way out of the barn into the Midwestern afternoon sun. Sam looks about, ensuring we are alone and that there are no prying eyes.

“What’s going on, Andie?” he asks.

“I’m not sure how to say this, John, but we’re planning something, something that will change the Districts for good.”

“And what’s that?” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“We want Burton Crane out of the picture,” I tell him.

“Are you serious?” he asks. “Did you learn nothing from the last time you were here and everything that’s happened?”

“I know,” I hold out my hand, trying to get him to listen. “I know, John, just give me a chance. There are a lot of people on board.”

“Who?” he asks.

“All of the Phoenix Sovereign, Hanford, and I’d bet money on Crystal River.”

“What do you plan on doing?”

“I’m not sure yet. We-”

“Well you can’t well be planning a revolution without a plan!”

“I’m just getting people on board. And then the original Funding Entities will be in control. They won’t have to worry about Crane.”

“What are you going to do with him?” he squints at me as though he can see right through me. I know he’s one of the original Entities.

“Maybe imprison him or banish him. We just want to make sure everyone is on the same page once he’s out.”

“Hmm,” John grumbles and looks around.

I stand still, waiting for his decision. He can either join or turn me in right now. And I’m sure turning me in would mean certain death for all of us.

“It would be much easier with him gone. A little more,” he circles his fingers in the air searching for the right word, “democratic without him.”

“So you’re in?” Sam asks. I had almost forgotten he was behind me.

“Yes. I’m in.”

“And the rest of your people here?”

“Andie, we deal with animals here, we don’t have many people.”

“But what about your other Sovereign?”

“There’s just a few of us. I’ll get the others on board,” he promises me.

I let out the breath I’ve been holding, relieved.

“Well, now that that’s taken care of, I have someone who’s been waiting for your arrival. He asked to see you.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Belamy Drake.”

“So you found him? After all of that?” When I was here last there was a man impersonating Dr. Drake. And I shot him in the head, adding another tick to my list of bad things I’ve done since The Reformation took over.

“Yeah,” John replies.

We walk to a nearby barn, a smaller one this time. I recognize it immediately; it’s the one which held their genetics laboratory. This time when John opens the door there is not a handful of workers milling about. There is just one man in a white lab coat. He turns as the door opens. It’s Dr. Drake, with the same paunch belly, same yellowed eyes, same white tufts of hair around his balding head.

“Mrs. Somers,” he smiles as he crosses the room. “Of all the people I would expect to see I have to say you are the last.”

“Was that a compliment?” Sam asks under his breath.

I don’t answer. I just keep my eyes on the man who made me decide to leave the genetics field so long ago.

“I’m so glad you came.” He stops in front of me. “I wanted to thank you personally.”

“For what?”

“If you hadn’t identified my imposter they would have never sent another team out to find me. And well, you saw what was happening here, all those horrid creatures that were being created.”

He’s talking about the mutated animals. The ones they sent me here to fix, but when I got here I had figured out their true problem. The person running the lab was not qualified, it was not Dr. Drake. Just an imposter, a plumber.

“Well,” Dr. Drake continues. “It’s a good thing you came here. We didn’t need any more tinkering with the genome. We are getting things back in order here, back to nature, breeding strong animals, sending them out to repopulate in the wild like God intended.” He smiles at me.

“Good for you,” I tell him. “I’m glad to see you’re doing a great job.”

“Yes, well, I’ve heard you’ve been busy yourself. District Matchmaker,” rolls off of his tongue like a curse word. “That’s quite impressive, Mrs. Somers.”

“We’ll go get the horses loaded up,” John interrupts. As they wander away from us I hear John mention something to Sam about the horses and grain.

Dr. Drake looks towards them and as soon as they are out of earshot, he leans towards me and says under his breath, “Put me on your team.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’m sure you need someone to check your work. Make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t think so,” I tell him. “Besides, I don’t have a team. I work alone.”

“Yes, you always did. I remember what you were like. It was years ago but I still remember that we could never replicate your work. What are you going to do when what you’re doing doesn’t work out? When these Residents turn into some horrible creatures.”

“I know what I’m doing! The data doesn’t lie, Dr. Drake. I don’t need your help. I didn’t need it when I worked for you and I don’t need it now.”

“You are still so cocky. Think of how they will make you suffer when this doesn’t work. You know what they did to my imposter?”

Of course I know. I’m the one who shot him. I stare at him, reliving those moments in my head.

“They killed him,” Dr. Drake spits the words from between gritted teeth.

I can see what he’s trying to do. He did the same thing when I worked for him. He’s trying to put uncertainty in my mind. He’s trying to make me doubt my work. “This conversation is over. I’m done talking to you.”

“I heard you abandoned all of those babies the day they took over your town.”

“You don’t know anything,” I tell him.

“I know some things.”

“No, you don’t. I had to find my family and there were more than enough nurses on the unit when I left.”

“The Residents here have received their injections. The ones that will alter their DNA and shrink their amygdala and then they will be the perfect docile humans Crane desired. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“You couldn’t have done it yourself,” I mutter.

“Well, I don’t have to, thanks to you.”

“What?”

“You’re the one who made this possible.”

“I didn’t have a choice-”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean am I sure? Crane was holding my family. He... He told me I had to.”

“And you never said no. You just did it.”

“He forced me!”

“Did he hold a gun to your head?”

“He threatened my family!”

“He threatens everyone’s family!” Dr. Drake’s face turns a bright purple as he yells.

I quake with anger, trying to decide whether to walk away or scream at Dr. Drake.

“Do you believe in coincidences?” he asks.

“No. Not when it comes to Crane. Nothing is a coincidence with him. He has some twisted plan. He always has a plan.”

“And if I told you there was someone higher than Crane?”

“Why should I believe you? You have been a member of this District for what? All of five minutes? You don’t know what’s been going on. You have no clue who these people are and what they are capable of.”

“Why should you believe anyone?”

“This conversation is just going in circles. I don’t know what you want from me.” I wave my hand at him and start to walk away.

Dr. Drake grabs my arm. “Protection!” He glances behind me at the Guardian that has been following me around ever since we arrived. “I want protection.”

“From what?”

“Changes.”

“I can’t protect you. You know better than that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“What makes you think that? What does Crane have over you?” I ask. “What is he dangling over your head that’s got you so scared?”

“The future. It’s all about the future. I can’t go back out there with the Survivors. It’s bad.”

“There will be more changes in the future. I can’t help you. And I don’t need you on my team. I don’t need your help so don’t ask me again.” I wretch my arm out of his grasp.

He leans forward, his face flexed in seriousness. “This is why they chose you. Not because you were smart or strong. They chose you because you are weak and selfish and malleable,” he tells me in a perfectly hurtful manner. “You’re really not so different from the Residents. What’s to stop them from altering your genes?”

“I’m done listening to you.” I tell him. “Goodbye, Dr. Drake. I hope this time I truly never see you again.”

He chuckles lightly as I walk away.

I move as fast as I can without running to the train. Sam and John are standing near it talking and I can see the District Volker and Tim leading horses onto the rear cars, as well as bins and troughs.

“What’s got you running like that?” Sam asks as I approach.

I shake my head at him. “Nothing,” I reply, almost out of breath.

“Don’t let him get to you,” John says.

“Who?” I ask.

“That old crank Drake. He’s been unpleasant since the day we pulled his sorry ass out of the slum he was holed up in.”

“Shouldn’t he be a little more grateful?” Sam asks.

“Most are. But Dr. Drake,” John points towards the barn I just exited. “He has to make himself worthy here or he’ll be out. We have plenty in Hanford who can take his place.”

“I never saw him set foot in the lab when I worked for him,” I admit to John.

“Seems the type.”

“If there are others in Hanford who will work here then why go looking for Dr. Drake?” I ask.

John gives me a look. One that signifies I just asked a question that I should have been able to figure out on my own. I guess I know why he was here. Who better to make me doubt my work than my old boss asking to double-check everything that I’ve worked so hard on? If I had said yes that would have done nothing but show everyone that I don’t have confidence in the vectors we created or the pairings. Maybe Dr. Drake already realized his job here was done. It was complete the moment he asked to be on my team. And now that this District has done so well reintegrating the livestock back to the wild, I wonder if Drake is on his way out already.

We make small talk as the horses are done being loaded on the train. Then I turn to John with one question I need to ask. “John, if this doesn’t work, if Crane does something before we make it back to Phoenix, will you give my family refuge?”

“Your family is in Phoenix, what would they be doing out here?” he asks with a blank face.

“I told my husband to escape with the children. Crane has threatened them before and I just want to be prepared in case something happens and I’m not there.”

“Yes, Andie, they are welcome here.”

“Thanks, John. I was worried there would be no place for us to go if this doesn’t work out.”

“We won’t shut you out here,” he nods at me sincerely. “We’ve been looking out for you this entire time.”

“Thanks, John.” I give him a short smile and feeling the cell phone in my pocket, I’m antsy to call home and let Ian know that if he has to leave he can find refuge in Wolf Creek.

Tim reluctantly rides in the engine car with us. He was adamant about staying in the rear cars so he could monitor the horses but when Sam told him how fast the ride to Hanford would be, he decided to sit in the front with us.

As the train starts moving, I leave Sam and Tim, headed to the sleeping bunks to find my bags. I search the pockets for the cell phone I hid. My fingers grasp the cool plastic and I pull it out. Closing the door to the sleeping bunk, I turn on the phone. The battery is still at full power from when I charged it. Now if I can only get a signal. I wait as the train moves and the icon on the phone circles until it pauses, flickers, and connects. Three bars of service.

Punching in the phone number to home, my heart beats fast, afraid that I might lose the signal before anyone answers. It rings one, two, three times.

“Hello?” I hear Ian’s voice on the other end.

“Ian?”

“Andie, are you okay?”

“Yes, Ian I just wanted to check in.”

“Where are you?”

“Just leaving Wolf Creek.”

“And-”the other line crackles and statics.

“Ian!” I move the phone and see that there are only two bars of signal. “Ian!”

Between the static I hear his faint voice. “A… Andie?”

“Are the children safe?” I ask, afraid that I’m about to lose him and might have to finish this trip without knowing.

“They’re,” he replies between the static, “fine. Everything’s fine.”

Before I can answer the line goes dead. I check the phone. There’s no bars, no signal.

chapter sixteen

Hanford

As we enter the Hanford District the sign comes into view. It’s still rusted, the blue and white, sun-bleached lettering states that this is a Restricted Government Area, property of the United States Department of Energy. And then there’s the abandoned high school that holds the elevator to the underground District floors.

There is one person waiting on the train platform for us. I recognize him right away, George Crossbender. He’s dressed in the same khaki pants and a red button down shirt as the last time I met him. The summer breeze blows at his bangs, covering up the thick glasses perched on the end of his nose. He takes the glasses off, cleaning them on his shirt as we prepare to step off the train.

It’s so nice to see a kind face and as I step off the train, I have to control the urge to hug him. Since I haven’t spoken to him since the last time I was here, it would be an inappropriate gesture.

“Welcome, Andie!” He grips my hand hard and shakes it.

“So great to see you, George,” I tell him.

“And this must be Colonel Salk?” He looks Sam up and down. “You’re tall,” he says and then looks to me. “He’s your brother isn’t he?”

“Don’t you already know that?” I ask him.

“Nope, didn’t know that. But it’s easy to see. Who else do you have here?” he asks as Tim steps off the train.

“Oh, George, this is Tim Johnson from Wolf Creek. He’s the handler for the horses.” Tim walks forward and shakes George’s hand.

“Howdy,” Tim tells George with the tip of his hat. The horses whinny and stomp from the rear train cars. “If y’all don’t mind, I’m goin’ to stay here with the horses. Check on ‘em, water ‘em.”

“Sure,” I say.

“Well, if that’s the case we had better hurry,” George tells us. “We don’t want the horses getting too stressed.”

As Tim walks towards the back of the train to check on the horses, George leads us off the train platform towards a truck.

“We aren’t taking the secret elevator?” I ask, pointing towards the abandoned High School.

“No, this will be much faster. We can cross the grounds and go directly to the Artillery Research Unit and get you what you need.”

There is an old Jeep Wrangler waiting for us, the doors and roof removed. Sam looks at me expectantly. He can’t sit in the back, his legs are too long. I give him an exaggerated huff before I climb into the back of the vehicle.

George gets in the driver’s seat and starts the engine. He takes off with a heavy foot, speeding across the grounds. As he drives, I hear a strange noise coming from the tires, and when I look over the side I can see it’s the sound of the Jeep speeding over the transparent roofing of the underground levels of Hanford. The thin layer of sand swirls and blows around the Jeep. And being able to see the drop of the multiple underground levels makes my stomach lurch. I lean back and focus ahead at the buildings coming into view. George stops just as we reach the first building and as we get out of the Jeep I recognize a few of the buildings. As we pass the building labeled Natural Birthing Center I notice that the building is dark and there is a board over the door.

“Whatever you told them last time you were here,” George tells me as I stare at the empty building. “It worked well. Not a single birth in almost two years.”

“Great,” I tell him. All I did was threaten them with the loss of their children. I threatened that Crane would break up their families.

We follow George and as I take in the view of the buildings and people milling around us, my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps behind me. I turn to find two of the Guardians following us, panting. Strange.

George takes us to the building that leads us to the underground Artillery Research Unit. It’s still massive, the rocky walls lined with the familiar green vines from the last time I was here. The ceiling is the same as before, thick glass with a thin coating of sand. Bright sunlight that filters through lights most of the space. The unit is filled with workers.

He collects a few of the workers, Sovereign, identified by the images burned into their wrists, just like most of the people that live here, the intellectually elite. Someone brings a large flat cart as we walk towards a small door in the rock wall.

“This,” George informs us, “is storage. I like to call it the Gun Safe.”

He pushes the gray metal door open and fluorescent lights illuminate the space in a long tunnel. There are boxes piled to the ceiling, and rows of neatly stacked weapons and supplies. Enough for three armies it seems.

“What do you think you might need to protect yourselves from the Survivors and Crane?” He gives me a soft wink

I don’t like it when people wink at me. I look down the room at the rows of strange guns, weapons I’ve never seen before.

“I don’t know much about these,” I turn to Sam. “I’m not sure what to take back.”

“I’ll get this.” He walks around me and down the room, the person with the cart follows him. I watch as Sam selects an assortment of pistols and assault style weapons. He tells the man with the cart how many of each to include. Next we come to crates of bullets. Sam discusses what’s needed with the men and they collect the necessary bins and crates, loading them onto the cart. Next we come to the armor. Helmets, vests, padding, everything an army could need.

“Enough of these for two hundred men,” he tells the man with the cart.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” George asks from next to me. I turn to find him pushing up his glasses with this index finger.

“It’s too much I think,” I tell him. Sam and the man with the cart wander further away. “I don’t think we even have two hundred Volker in Phoenix.”

“He’s collecting enough for Crystal River,” George reminds me.

“Oh, yeah.” I push my hair out of my face. “I guess I’m a little distracted.”

“About what?”

“Do you know why President Berkley is so afraid of Crane?” I ask.

“You don’t need to refer to him as the President anymore,” George says with a frown.

“Okay. Why is Berkley so afraid of Crane?”

“Berkley was safe. He was one of the original Funding Entities, one of the very first, the leader of the free world, even in all of its great depression. Crane approached him with this plan to create the Districts, to start over. And Berkley agreed.”

“He just agreed? Crane didn’t have to threaten him with anything?”

“No. There were no threats needed. He wasn’t going to be President for another term and after what he did to this country there wasn’t enough funding to keep his security detail up until he died. He knows that someone would have assassinated him. The promise of safety, of running his own District, that was enough.”

“So what changed?”

“The Reformation was a secret to the rest of the world, to the population. Only a select few knew of us, knew what was about to happen and there were certain rules.”

“No one talks?” I ask.

“Precisely. We didn’t know who all the other Funding Entities were when this all started, we just knew that they were there and that they would work just as hard as we would to ensure the plan didn’t fail.”

“Failure is not an option,” I parrot out the phrase I’ve heard one too many times since I’ve become a part of this.

“Yes. I’m sure you’ve heard this before. Failure was not, and is still not, an option. We do what we can to keep the Districts running, to keep the Residents safe, to keep this new society humming along as a well-oiled machine. So all Berkley had to do was sit back and relax and wait for this all to unfold.”

“Let me guess, he didn’t sit back?”

“No. Berkeley went out and hired someone to figure out who else Crane was working with.”

“Adam?” I guess with a whisper.

“Precisely.”

“And that is how Adam knew Crane wanted me to help him.”

“Precisely.”

“This still doesn’t explain why Berkley is still so afraid of him.”

“Crane has one more surprise, one more detail to unleash in all of this.”

“What is that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“But you just told me you are on our side, that you’ll help us get him out.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure it’s entirely true. Could just be a rumor between Entities.”

I shake my head in disappointment. “You said that you’re on our side, George.”

“Don’t worry, Andie, I am,” he assures me with a smile, pushing his glasses back up on his nose.

“I don’t like this,” I tell George. “It feels like you’re lying to me.”

“I don’t lie, Andie. This is just one fact Crane must bring to light on his own, that’s all. Besides, if I wasn’t on your side, I wouldn’t have drawn up a plan to get you around the Tonopah District.” He hands a piece of paper to me, a map of the intact train tracks, expertly drawn with a way to avoid even getting close to Tonopah.

“How do you know these tracks are secure?” I ask him, noticing the tracks veer off of our previous route, taking a separate set that cuts across the country.

“We’ve already checked them. I sent a team out when you left Phoenix. They flew the length of the tracks to make sure they are secure.”

I take the map from him. “I hope you’re right.”

“I’m right. Go to Crystal River. Get them on board. And then go home.”

“And if the Survivors attack?”

“Then you will have the perfect diversion to get Crane out.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

George looks away from me. “I think Sam is done.”

I look up and see Sam walking towards us, the other men behind him, pulling the cart loaded with supplies. “How will we get all of this back to the train?” I ask.

“We have vehicles and the workers here can help,” he ensures me with a pat on my shoulder.

As I watch Sam walk towards us, I am reminded of the pact I made with Blithe.

“George?” I ask.

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you married?”

“Whoever said I wasn’t?”

We return above ground to the Jeep. The Guardians sit, waiting and watching as we get in the vehicle. George pulls away, speeding across the sandy plain just as he did before. Sam turns around, his hair blowing wildly in the wind, and points behind us. I turn to see the Guardians running behind the Jeep at a steady pace. When I turn back around to face Sam he points at the speedometer. George is driving over eighty miles per hour. Sam smiles, a glimmer of wit in his eyes. He must be thinking the same thing I am: I’ve never known a dog that could run eighty miles per hour.

chapter seventeen

Crystal River

The route George Crossbender mapped out for us was tiresomely uneventful. We saw nothing. Not a single person, or house, or demolished city. The tracks were spread across some obsolete stretch of land that held only emptiness. The sweltering Florida air was almost a welcome change among the monotony of the cross country trek.

“Horses won’t last long in this heat,” Tim warns us as Sam slows the train to enter the Crystal River District. There is movement in the surrounding tropical vegetation, the random movement of a heavy branch, the blur of a dark figure moving between the trees.

“We won’t be here long,” Sam replies.

“Someone’s watching us out there,” Tim says as he steps out of view of the engine car windows.

The now heavily guarded gate to Crystal River opens, allowing us inside. We slowly pass the grassy open area between the electrified fence and wall encompassing this District.

“Something’s wrong,” Sam says. The train lurches a bit as he slows it further.

“What’s going on?” I walk up next to him. Sam points ahead of us. There is a row of Volker standing in our path, guns drawn. I notice that we aren’t even inside the cement wall, we aren’t close to the train platform. No, we are in the same location where we interviewed the Survivors, just far enough away to control problems and force the problem outside the walls. Now we are the ones looking down the barrels of twenty semi-automatic weapons.

Sam stops the train.

“What should we do?” I ask.

“I’m not sure.” He moves to reach behind one of the benches, pulling out a duffel bag.

“What’s that?” I ask.

He opens the bag, pulling out two pistols. He hands one to me and one to Tim. By the time he’s done, the Volker outside have moved closer. I recognize Colonel Ramirez outside the window. There is the sound of a fist rapping on the door. I look to Sam.

“What do you think is going on?”

“Andie?” I hear Ramirez shout from outside the door. “Sam?”

“What do we do?” I ask Sam, my heart racing.

“Stay where you are,” he tells me as he steps towards the door.

There is another sharp rapping on the door. “Andie?” Ramirez shouts.

Sam whips the door open. “What’s this all about, Ramirez?”

The stern look seems to melt off of Ramirez’s face. “You’re all okay?” he asks.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Sam asks him.

“You missed your stop in Tonopah. We were afraid the train was intercepted.”

“We had a change of plans,” Sam tells him.

Ramirez leans into the engine car and looks around. He glances at Tim before his eyes stop on me. “You sure?” he asks. I nod.

“Okay, you can pull the rest of the way in.” Ramirez steps away, signaling to the Volker to move off of the tracks. Sam pulls the train the rest of the way into Crystal River, stopping at the platform.

Emanuel is waiting for us when we exit the train. “Crane called,” he snaps at us. “You were supposed to stop in Tonopah yesterday evening and pick up troops, what happened?” He looks from me to Sam.

“We had a change of plans,” I tell him as Colonel Ramirez jogs up behind Emanuel, his weapon slung over his shoulder. I turn around noticing he’s alone. “Where’s the rest of the Volker that were with you?”

“Guarding the fence,” he tells me as Ramirez wipes the sweat off of his forehead.

I look at Emanuel. “The Survivors are watching us,” he tells me. “They are always at the fence, day and night. We’ve had to keep Volker out there to guard the entrance. Now, what’s this about changing your plans?”

“I had to go to the Districts where I had the greatest possibility of getting everyone on board,” I tell him.

“What do you mean?”

“We couldn’t stop in Tonopah,” Sam tells them. “Sakima would never side with us on this.”

“You’re planning something, aren’t you?” Emanuel asks me.

“We want Crane out,” I tell him. “He’s a loose cannon. I have most of the other Funding Entities on board.”

“Who else?” Emanuel asks.

“Wolf Creek, Hanford and the other Sovereign in Phoenix,” I tell him.

“What about Galena?” Emanuel asks. “Did you speak with Berkley?”

“I don’t have time to go all the way to Galena. But from the sound of it, Berkley doesn’t much care for Crane.”

“What’s in it for us?” Emanuel asks. “If we side with you?”

“We have weapons for you,” I tell him.

“And horses,” Sam speaks up.

“I don’t have orders to leave horses here,” Tim interrupts from behind us. I almost forgot he was here, listening this entire time.

I hold my hand up, silencing him. “The original plans of the Funding Entities remain the same,” I tell Emanuel. “The only change is that Crane is out of the picture.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Ramirez asks.

“Exile him, imprison him. We’re not sure,” I tell them.

“Well,” Ramirez looks to Emanuel. “That would explain why we lost communications.”

“You lost communications with Crane?” I ask.

“Yes,” Emanuel tells us. “This morning I’ve been unable to contact Crane. This is unlike him.”

This is too early for Crane to be disappearing. Elvis and Ian agreed to wait until we made it back or if the Survivors attacked while we were gone. This change of events is unplanned, unexpected and it worries me. “We need to get home then,” I tell Sam.

“Why didn’t you stop in Tonopah and get them on board? You were supposed to bring troops to help us,” Emanuel asks.

I shake my head at them. “Sakima keeps everyone in the Tonopah District medicated, so they will listen to him. Do you really think it’s a good idea having armed Volker from Tonopah in our Districts, following the orders of Sakima?”

“I’ve never been fond of Sakima,” Emanuel replies with an itch of his chin.

“We will leave you horses and weapons,” I tell them.

“Are you trying to bribe us?” Emanuel asks.

“Hell yes. And having Crane gone should be an adequate bribe. The horses and weapons are the icing on the cake,” Sam tells them. “They are for you to defend yourselves from the Survivors until we get a chance to deal with them ourselves.”

Emanuel shifts on his feet. “Ramirez, go get the others. Andie can fill them in while you help unload what they’ve brought us.”

Ramirez leaves, walking towards their District Headquarters which is just across the parking lot from the train platform. The heat rises off of the cracked blacktop in waves and swirls around his legs as he walks.

“Tim.” I turn to find him glaring at me. “I need you to leave half of the horses here.”

“Them horses ain’t ready,” he tells me in an angry country drawl.

“Then leave the ones that are closest to ready. I’m sure you know the ones,” I tell him. “I have to call home.”

I step away from the men as they walk towards the cars holding the cargo. The horses whinny and stomp, eagerly awaiting their release from the stuffy train. I open the cell phone, noticing that the battery is less that twenty-five percent but there’s a full signal. I press redial and wait. The phone rings. It rings and rings and no one answers. I end the call and dial the number again, my heart rate picking up, my mind running a mile a minute. This can’t be good.

I turn to find Ramirez leading Richard Ruiz to where I am standing. I see the gleam of Richard’s fancy watch and I can barely believe he’s wearing a dark gray suit in this heat.

“So,” Richard starts as he gets within earshot of me. “I hear you’re planning a revolution. I knew you were trouble when I met you.” He gives a sly smile.

“I’m not planning a revolution, Richard,” I tell him. “I didn’t plan anything. I was just asked to help rally the other Entities. Where are Javier and Mateo?”

“They aren’t Entities, therefore they don’t get to hear this,” Richard replies.

“I assumed that didn’t matter here since Ramirez has been present for all of our conversations.”

“That is because Goyo Ramirez is one of us.”

I look behind Richard, at Ramirez, who shrugs his shoulders at me. “Of course he is.”

“Did he fill you in then? Are you on board?”

“Details, my dear,” Richard tells me. “What are the details?”

“We are bribing you with guns, horses and Crane’s removal from the Funding Entities. Are you with us?”

“How do you know Tonopah wouldn’t like to join in?” he asks. “I heard you never stopped to ask them.”

“If you know anything about Tonopah, Richard, then you know Sakima is just like Crane; he would never agree, he would side with Crane. And if we exile Crane I’m sure he will run straight for Tonopah.”

Richard looks towards the blue sky, contemplating. After a moment he turns back to me. “I suppose you’re right.”

Feeling the sweat trickle down my back, I ask him, “Aren’t you dying in that suit?”

“I’m used to it,” he smiles. “I’m originally from Rio de Janeiro.” His accent suddenly turns thicker, his voice dropping a few octaves as though he’s just revealed a deep secret.

I blink at him. “Aren’t you dying in that suit?” I ask again.

Richard laughs. “I’m used to the heat.” He wipes his hand across his brow. “See, I’m not even sweating.”

“That’s great. You want to help unload?” I point to where Tim and Sam are unloading the horses by leading them down a wooden ramp and off of the train. Emanuel takes the reins from Tim and, talking gently to the horses, he leads them away.

As Richard and Ramirez leave to help unload, I open the cell phone and try calling home again. I count the rings: fifteen. There’s still no answer.

Sam and Tim slide closed the door to the train car that holds the horses. Then they move on to the car holding the weapons. I walk over to them as Sam pulls crates of securely packed weapons, bullets and armor to the edge of the opening. The other men lift the crates in pairs, carrying them to the shaded area of the train platform.

“Sam,” I interrupt him. “No one is answering the phone in Phoenix.”

He stands, sweat dripping down the side of his face, saturating his Volker uniform. “We’ll leave as soon as we’re done.”

Richard and Emanuel stand at the opening to the train car, next to me. “Survivors are getting brave,” Emanuel tells us. “We’ve had a few try to jump the fence.”

“How is that possible?” I ask him. Their electrified fence is over twenty feet high.

“There are some young ones, they climb the trees, try to swing themselves over.”

“What did you do to them?” I ask.

“Nothing.” Emanuel reaches for the next crate that Sam sets down. “The fence took care of them.”

And by that I know he means it fried them to a crisp.

We leave half of the horses and almost half of the weapons and armor. “We’ll be in contact,” I tell Emanuel and Ramirez as I step on the train to leave. Tim paces the engine car, stopping only to look nervously out the windows at the horses we’ve left behind.

Sam starts the engine and, driving forward, turns the train around on the loop track ahead of us. I wave at Emanuel out the window as we pass them again. As we get closer to their fence, the Volker walk closer to the entrance, readying their weapons.

“I think it might be best to get up to speed as soon as possible,” I tell Sam, noticing the movement in the nearby vegetation. Just like before, branches quiver and shadows move within the tropical forest.

“Yup,” he replies, pushing the gear forward.

--

As the evening darkens, Tim leaves the engine car to head for the sleeping bunks. I flip open the cell phone, the battery icon is red and there is only one bar of signal. I dial home. There’s still no answer.

“You’re going to kill that battery,” Sam warns me from the helm.

“It’s almost dead already,” I tell him.

“We’ll be home soon. Just a few more hours, probably make it home by dawn.”

I nod at him, my head heavy with exhaustion and anticipation. My body isn’t sure if it should sleep or pace. “I don’t like traveling,” I admit to Sam.

“I know,” he replies. I can almost see his face with the soft glow from the single bulb that is attached to the wall behind him. “Sis?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Do you ever remember what it was like before all of this?”

“Every day.”

“You remember when we were kids?”

“Um hmm.” I remember his tall, gangly arms and legs. Everyone called him my big brother even though I was almost six years older than him. I remember living in a time when the only worries we had were what we would get for Christmas or what brand of backpack we would pick out for school.

“Do you remember when Mom and Dad used to take us to the lake, to that fish place?” He looks out the window quickly. “We would have dinner and ice cream and then throw rocks into the water. I can’t remember the name of it. Do you remember?” he asks me.

I close my eyes, trying to remember. I can see us standing on the shoreline, the shadows of the seagulls circling overhead. The smell of dried lake weeds mixed with the heavy scent of fried food. Sam holds a giant rock over his head and tosses it into the lake water with all of his might. I see the white clapboard building, weather worn and facing the lake.

“Rudy’s,” I tell him. “I think it was called Rudy’s.”

“Yes!” he exclaims. “Rudy’s, that’s the name of it. They had the best chicken nuggets. Oh, I can taste them now. I miss that food.”

“Oh my God, Sam,” I laugh a little. “You were just talking about this great fish shop and then you say you loved their chicken nuggets.”

“I guess I just miss it all.” He moves to sit next to me.

“I do too,” I tell him, leaning against his shoulder.

“Do you think this will work?” he asks.

“It’s kind of late to be asking that, isn’t it, Sam?”

“Probably. I just worry what else will happen when we get back.”

“Me too. Things will never go back to normal, I know, but I would just like them to remain at a constant.”

He stretches his arm behind me and gives me a brotherly hug. “That would be great,” he tells me.

We sit in silence for a moment, listening to the hum of the train.

“Do you remember that girl I was dating in High School? She had red hair. Jessica?”

“Yeah,” I tell him. “I think that was the longest relationship you were ever in.”

He pinches my shoulder. “Stop!” I swat at his hand. “Admit it. You went through girls faster than Lina went through diapers.”

“I know,” he says with a smile. “I just wonder where she is, what she’s doing now.” He stops. We both know what question comes next. I wonder if she’s still alive, if she survived the bombings.

“You lonely, Sam?”

As I feel him shrug next to me, I remember the promise I made Blithe.

“I have a secret to tell you, Sam.”

“Hmm. That’s not really a surprise.”

“Blithe has a crush on you,” I tell him bluntly. I feel him stiffen a little. “And there’s more.”

“Okay.”

“Blithe has been writing reports on the children and sending them to Crane. She’s the one writing to Crane about Raven not meeting his milestones. I asked her to change them.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she would, but in return she wants me to pair you two together.”

I feel his body soften this time. “So you’re going to pimp me out, is that it?”

“I kinda told her I would. You know what Crane said about Raven. So what do you think? She’s pretty, and smart, and tall, like you.”

“Don’t you have to double-check our genetic makeup in your computer programs?”

“Not anymore. Not with Crane out of the picture. Actually, I guess none of this matters with Crane out of the picture. I just wanted you to know.”

“Well-” Sam is interrupted by the lurching of the train, the kind of forcing lurch that is only made when something moving at a high speed makes impact with something else that is standing still.

Sam grabs my arm as the force knocks me out of my seat. But since he’s being tossed out of the seat too, he doesn’t stop me. We both land on the floor with a heavy thud. There’s another thud from the sleeping bunks, combined with the sharp squeal of the train pushing against something. Sam crawls forward to the controls and pulls the train to a stop.

“What just happened?” I ask, pulling myself to my feet.

“I think we hit something.” Sam walks towards a bench on the other side of the car and, lifting the bench seat, he pulls out a shotgun and a fully loaded magazine for the handgun on his hip.

I hear Tim’s footsteps as he stumbles out of the sleeping area. Even in the dim light I can see he’s holding his hand to his head and a trickle of blood streams down his face. “Think y’all hit something,” he mumbles.

“Take care of him, Andie.” Sam tells me in a hurry. “I’ll go see what happened.”

Sam heads for the door, one of the Guardians at his heels, following him outside. The others stay and watch the door as Sam closes it.

I guide Tim towards the light. “What did you hit your head on?”

“Not sure,” he mumbles, pulling his palm away from his temple. Blood streams down his face.

I take Tim’s hand and move it back to his head. “Sit down and keep pressure on that. I’ll be right back.”

I run to the bunks, pushing the door open to the first one I come to. I grab a pillow off of the bed and strip the pillowcase off of it. Next I grab the sheet, rolling it into a ball and shoving it under my arm. The fabric is thin enough to rip into bandages. Running back to where Tim is sitting, I rip the seams of the fabric. I kneel down, ripping the sheet to make a bandage to soak up the blood.

“Here,” I pull Tim’s hand away from his head to place the folded fabric in his hand. He stares at his palm, dripping in blood. His face pales. “It looks worse than it is. Head wounds bleed like crazy.” I tell him, moving his arm to press clean fabric to the gash on his temple.

“Should check on them horses,” Tim mumbles to me.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” I tell him as I move his hand and replace the saturated strip of sheet with a fresh one. I take one of the long strips and fashion it around his head, holding the makeshift bandage in place.

Wiping my hands off, I look at the door. The three Guardians stare at the exit. I pull the cell phone out of my pocket, my arms shaking, and flip it open, wishing I could call for help. The screen is black. If there was anyone I could call, the phone is dead and it’s no use to me now. I set it on the bench and walk towards the door.

“Stay here,” I tell Tim. “I’m going to check on Sam.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, squinting to look out the windows in the dark.

“Probably not.”

I step out of the door and into the night.

chapter eighteen

“Sam?” I ask, stepping out of the train. The Guardians push their way ahead of me. I lock Tim inside and wait a moment for my eyes to focus in the darkness.

The Guardian that followed Sam barks. I head towards the sound, the three remaining Guardians walk by my side, each emitting a low growl. Hearing a rustle from in front of the tracks, my heartbeat picks up, and the hairs rise on my arms. Just as the rustling stops, I notice Sam’s Guardian standing a hundred feet from me on the tracks, facing the dark woods, growling.

“Sam?” I ask louder, picking up my pace to investigate what the Guardian is growling at.

There is a loud popping sound followed by the whine of the Guardian in front of me. I rush towards it, bending down as the Guardian slinks to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper to the dog, rubbing my hand over the Guardian’s thick coat. When I get to its shoulder I feel something wet and sticky. Just as I pull my hand away, focusing in the moonlight, I realize the substance is blood.

Something is wrong, terribly wrong.

Three more popping sounds rip through the night, followed by the thud of the three Guardians near me dropping to the ground. A hard shiver runs down my back, an internal warning to get the heck out of here. But I can’t go without my brother.

“Sam!” I shout into the night, standing to my feet. “Sam, where are y-”

Before I can finish, I hear the crunch of gravel under a boot. The soft settling of a thoughtfully placed foot on the ground behind me quiets me, and before I get a chance to turn around, or think to run, I’m pushed down, and a boot is placed firmly in the middle of my back holding me forcefully against the ground. A rough, musty smelling fabric is placed over my head as I try to look around. A rough hand draws my wrists together behind my back and I can feel them winding a rough rope around my left wrist.

They pause before tying my right wrist, twisting it to get a better look at the mark there. The click of a flashlight and a rough finger running over the skin of my wrist comes next.

“Holy shit,” I hear.

“What?” a forceful voice asks.

“It’s her.”

“Who?”

“That Sovereign one from Phoenix. Be a pity when they find out she’s lost.”

“How do you know?”

“Look at her wrist. She’s the only female one in that Phoenix District.”

A rough hand twists my arm. “That’s a damn prize. Let’s go.”

I hear the groans of men as they pull me up by my arms. Twisting at the waist, I try to pull my shoulders out of their grasp. Large hands settle on my shoulders, holding me in place.

“Let me go,” I shout through the fabric.

One of them laughs. “This one’s feisty,” another voice says from behind me.

“Sam!” I yell through the fabric. “Tim!”

“That’s enough,” a deep, soft voice says.

“What are you doing? What do you want?” I ask.

That voice doesn’t respond. Instead, hands move my shoulders and give a gentle push, or maybe a pull, either way, I walk. It’s not long before I hear the excited whinny from the horses. They’ve brought me back to the train.

“Don’t open that door,” the deep voice next to me instructs.

“They have horses,” one of the other men states.

“What else is on the train?” the deep voice next to me asks.

I think to lie. I don’t want them to know that the train is fully loaded with an arsenal of weapons. That would be valuable to these people. But maybe, maybe they would let me go if I told them.

The large hand squeezes my shoulder, promising pain if I don’t answer. “There’s horses,” I say, feeling my voice shake.

“What else?” Fingertips press crudely into the sensitive area between my clavicle and shoulder.

I pause, biting my lip in an effort to calm myself and focus. “You can take it,” I tell him. “Take it all, just… just let us go,” I plead.

“What else?” he asks, his voice gaining an edge.

“Let me go. Let us go. You can have it all,” I beg, knowing that giving up the horses and the weapons would put Phoenix at an extreme disadvantage should the Survivors make it past our walls.

“I can make her talk,” one of the other men says. I can almost hear him smiling as he speaks.

“She’s not to be damaged,” the deep voice says as his fingertips sink deeper into my skin. I bite my lip harder. My knee seems to bend on its own, trying to draw my shoulder away from his painful pressure. It doesn’t work.

“There’s horses,” I finally tell them. “And… and guns.”

The hand leaves my shoulder and I can feel the cool night air blow around me as the warm bodies of the men walk away. The doors of the train cars slide open. The horses stomp. A crate is being dragged. I move my feet, testing my limits. No one stops me. There is the scraping sound of another crate, followed by the sound of wood being stressed and cracked. They must be trying to pry open the crates.

Stepping to the side, my feet hit something hard. I tap around with my toes feeling what can only be the metal rails of the train track, knowing that the forest is behind me, I back up until I hear something, the sound of someone breathing heavily near me. Not right next to me, but close enough for me to hear them. Knowing that the men are sifting through our guns, it can only be one person.

“Sam?” I ask.

“Andie?” I hear Sam’s muffled voice.

“Where are you?” I ask over the sound of the men dragging the crates. Shaking my head, I try to loosen the bag.

“I don’t know. I can’t see,” Sam replies.

“Me either. What do we do, Sam? They killed the Guardians. All of them.”

“Run, Andie.” Sam tells me firmly. “Get out of here. Did you see who they are?”

“No. I didn’t see anything. It was dark, they knocked me down from behind.”

“It’s a group of Survivors. You need to run. They’ll kill us!”

“But… They tied my wrists. Sam, I can’t-”

“Go hide in the woods. It’s dark enough, they won’t find you. Run and hide.”

I can’t think of anything worse than being in the woods at night with my head covered and my wrists bound, alone. “I can’t leave you, Sam.”

“Go. Now. Before they are done pilfering the weapons. When you get yourself free just follow the tracks back to Phoenix.”

“How far away are we?” I hear Sam moving closer to me.

“Probably somewhere near Pennsylvania.”

It will take me forever to get home from here. And with no supplies I might just die trying. Especially if I run into any more Survivors.

“Go, Andie!” Sam urges, knocking his shoulder into me. It’s enough to almost knock me off of my feet.

“No. I can’t leave you.”

“You have to. Now go!”

“Sam…”

“Go. That’s an order.” He bumps into me again, harder this time.

“Okay… okay.”

I turn and walk at a hesitant pace, afraid to run since my balance is off having my arms secured behind me. I’m also afraid that I’ll run face first into a tree and knock myself out. Shrubs catch on my ankles, my shoulder scrapes against a tree trunk. The sound of the gun crates scraping across the floor of the train car lessen behind me.

I count the trees as I brush by them or smack into them. When I pass seven trees the scraping sound stops. It’s followed by shouting. They must be yelling at Sam. I walk faster, a near-running pace. A low branch slaps my face. If I could just see, I need this bag off my head. I shake my head trying to loosen the fabric. The men yell louder. Then the worst sound fills the night, the popping sound of one of the handguns. I drop to the ground. After a few moments of silence and rapid heartbeats, I roll slightly, trying to get further away or find something to hide behind. Feeling a tree at my feet, I scoot down and prop myself against it.

I wait, crouched on the ground behind the tree trunk. The base of the tree poking at my back sharply gives me an idea. Using the sharp nub of the tree trunk I rub my head until I feel it catch on the fabric that’s covering my face. Lowering myself until I’m flat on the ground again, I work the bag off my head. And then, just like that, it’s off. I take a deep breath, letting my eyes adjust to the night. There are a few slivers of moonlight filtering down between the leaves of the trees. Sitting up, I look around, seeing the stretch of forest in front of me. I turn, peeking around the side of the tree trunk that’s barely thick enough to conceal me. I can see motion and it looks like I’m barely ten yards from them. I can hear Sam’s voice but not what he’s saying. I also hear the voices of the others. My heart is pounding, my head thudding right along. Sam told me to run and now I need to.

I push myself up, using the tree as a support until I’m standing. And then, taking one last glance behind me, I run deeper into the woods. Twigs snap under my boots. Branches scratch at my arms and legs. Having the bag off of my head isn’t much better considering the dark night. And since my wrists are still bound, my balance is still off.

When I’m far enough away that I can’t hear them any longer, I slow myself, afraid of getting too far from the tracks, knowing that they can help me get home. Veering to the right, I start running again at a slower pace. More twigs break. The leaves rustle and crunch under my feet. My breathing is too heavy and I’m making too much noise. I slow myself to a stop, twist my wrists trying to loosen the rope. The movement makes the rough ties dig into my skin harder. I walk, twisting and pulling the rope, trying to break free. As I’m standing there, struggling to free myself, I feel a sharp ping on the side of my head. The object hits me so hard that I’m certain I hear a hollow knock when it connects with my skull. This is followed by a bright explosion of light behind my eyes and pain and the feeling of my body dropping to the forest floor.

--

My world has shifted.

It is daytime and I am no longer standing in the dark forest but hanging over something incredibly warm, covered in rough hair, and moving. I can still feel the rope around my wrists. But instead of being tied behind me, they are now hanging over my head, which throbs. I slowly open my eyes to find myself staring at the flank of a horse.

This is an uncomfortable position.

I move my arms, propping myself up on my elbows and trying to stop my body from bouncing off of the horse’s side with each step it takes. I soon realize that up is nothing more than parallel to the ground. My stomach churns.

“Hold up,” I hear a deep male voice shout.

A pair of dirty boots step into my view. I look up, following the height of the form in front of me, stopping at his face. He frowns at me. His hair is dark blonde and long enough that it’s pulled into a ponytail. He has gray eyes and a thick beard that covers his face. “You ready to behave?” he asks with the same deep, soft voice I’ve heard in the dark.

Since I don’t have many other options, I nod my head yes.

He reaches forward and, grabbing me under my shoulders, he pulls me off of the horse’s back. Before I know it, I’m standing in front of him. He’s tall. But then, so are most people compared to me. He wears relatively clean clothes: jeans, boots, a T-shirt with a light jacket over it. He doesn’t look like the vicious Survivors described to me. He looks…normal.

“You’re Andromeda?” he asks me.

I nod to him.

“I’m Mack.” He raises his hand to point behind us, down a path lined with tall grass. “We have someone who wants to meet you.”

“What did you do with my brother and Tim?” I ask the man named Mack.

“We let them go. They started their train and left.”

“You’re lying to me. What did you do with them?”

“I have no reason to lie to you.” Mack scowls down at me.

I stare at him, still waiting for an answer.

“What do you think we are, barbarians?” he asks with a smile that shows a deep dimple in his chin even through the beard.

“You didn’t let me go,” I glare at him.

“Can’t do that. You’re important to them.”

“What about the horses and the weapons?” I ask.

“Stashed them. We’ll send a team back to get them later.”

“So where are you taking me?” I ask, looking around. We are stopped on a path that cuts through a field of tall grass. Further away a forest surrounds us. There’s no sign of the train tracks I was supposed to follow home. I can barely control the tremble that rolls through my body as I begin to understand the predicament I am in. Crane will not be happy with this. And most likely he will make Sam pay for losing me.

“You don’t need to know,” Mack tells me.

“You don’t understand,” I tell him. “Crane will kill them for losing me.” I shake my bound arms, feeling the tears swelling behind my eyes. I have no control over this situation at all. Nothing to bargain with and no visible escape. This feeling is terrible. I begin to take short stuttered breaths. “I can’t be here,” I tell Mack, panicking. “I can’t be here. I have children, a husband. I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me. You don’t know what he’ll do to us!””

Suddenly the tears are streaming down my face. I make no attempt to stop them. Part of me hopes that they will see that I am nothing more than a weak sobbing woman, and maybe, just maybe, they will have pity on me and let me go.

“I have to go home.” I hold my hands out, twisting my wrists at him. “You don’t understand what they’re like. He’ll hurt my family.” Just the thought of Crane punishing Sam for losing me makes my stomach churn harder. The side of my head throbs.

Mack looks at me with a blank stare. He must be expecting this. Or maybe he wasn’t expecting it to be this bad.

“You’re one of their Sovereign. You are one of the ones in charge,” Mack tells me, pointing a thick index finger in my face.

“No.” I shake my head at him. “You don’t understand what it’s like. I’m not in charge of anything.”

Feeling a large tear run down my neck, I move my hands to wipe at it. When I move my hands back in front of me, they are not wet with tears, but with streaks of blood. I panic at the sight, probing the side of my face until I touch the goose-egg at my temple. It’s then I remember standing in the night and feeling something echo off of my skull. My hair is matted to the area and I can feel warm blood trickling down my face from the wound. Moving my hands, I stare at all the blood.

“I think you need to settle down,” I hear Mack say with his deep soothing voice.

But I can’t settle down. I wipe at the side of my head again, breathing faster. More blood coats my hands. More tears pour out of my eyes. I feel the flush of saliva fill my mouth, which can only mean one thing: I’m going to puke.

Mack must sense this, as he steps aside just as I throw myself into the tall grass and let my stomach empty itself. When I am done, I stay there on my knees, crying into the tall grass.

“She’s crazy,” I hear one of the younger men whisper behind me.

“Shut it,” Mack warns him.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I don’t turn when I hear the footsteps behind me.

“You done now?” Mack asks.

“I think you gave me a concussion when you hit me in the head.”

“Sorry about that, he wasn’t supposed to hit you in the head, but it was dark.”

“I don’t usually act like this,” I tell him between breaths.

He doesn’t say anything to me, but he doesn’t need to, I can feel him judging me with his eyes.

“It must be the head injury,” I mumble to the grass.

Mack still doesn’t respond. Instead, he stands there, waiting for me to get up. Eventually I do and then I wish I were still sitting. My knees are weak and I feel the blood drain from my head.

“Think you shouldn’t be walking right now,” Mack says as he observes me. He takes my elbow and leads me back to the horse I was slung over. Before I can say a word he grasps me around the waist and lifts me onto the horse as if I weighed nothing. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?” he asks me.

“Never.”

“Swing your leg over the side and hold onto her mane. Chuck there will lead her.” Mack waits as I adjust myself and grip the horse’s thick, black mane. He pats the horse hard on its shoulder before walking ahead of me and waving to Chuck and the other man.

They walk.

“You’re pretty stupid,” the young one named Chuck tells me as he walks beside me, leading the horse. He has the same voice as the person who said they could make me talk. I notice a sling-shot hanging out of his back pocket and my head throbs at the sight of it. He must be quite the shot to hit me in the head in the dark. Even if he wasn’t supposed to hit me in the head, I get the feeling that he meant to.

I don’t talk back. Instead, I grip the horse’s mane tighter between my bloodstained fingers. It was stupid, trying to run away at night. I should have stayed with Sam. I should have tried to do something other than save my own skin. Now I’m trekking through the Virginia mountainside with a group of Survivors. They stopped our train. They stole our horses and our weapons. And now I’m their prisoner.

--

We walk all day, stopping only once at a forest stream.

The horses drink. The men relieve themselves. Mack unties the rope from around my wrists and allows me a moment of privacy behind a bush. When I step out, finished, he holds the rope out. I sigh, and holding my hands out for him I notice the red marks around my wrists from the rope rubbing. I focus on the imprint of the Phoenix on my inner wrist. We are your Sovereign. I remember telling the room full of Residents. We will take care of you. But here I am taking care of no one. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to go back there, if I will ever see my children again. Maybe I could get them to untie me and then I could run again. In the daylight, without the ties, I could be faster.

Mack stares at the mark too. “If you promise not to run, I’ll leave them off for a bit,” he tells me, as though he knows what I’m thinking.

“I promise,” I tell him.

“Go get a drink from the stream.” He begins coiling the rope around his hand as I walk away.

I stretch my arms on my walk, loosening the tense muscles before crouching at the stream. It’s shallow, crystal clear and fast-moving. I rub my hands in the water to clean them. Cupping my hands, I bring some of the water to my face and smell it. It smells like nothing, just crisp, fresh water. In the calmness of the water I hold in my cupped hands, I get a glimpse at my reflection. My face is streaked with blood and dirt. I drop the water, unable to look at myself.

When we left Florida I had put a button down shirt over my tank-style blouse. Now, I unbutton it and submerge the corner of the shirt in the water. Ringing it out, I scrub my face with the shirt, try to rub the blood and dirt off. I bend down, scrubbing my neck and face until it feels clean. I lift the dry end of the shirt and dry my face on it. Then, cupping my hands, I drink.

As I drink, there is one thought that consumes my mind: I cannot stay here with these men; I cannot go wherever they are taking me.

When I am done, I stand and turn to the men. They busy themselves with the horses; talking in soothing voices, patting them, adjusting their rope harnesses. I thought Tim said they weren’t ready for riding, but these ones seem pretty tame.

The third guy-they never said what his name is-he stands with another horse. This one has sacks hanging off each side and guns tied together and slung over each side of the horse.

“Ready?” Mack asks. He’s less than a hundred yards from me.

I nod at him. Now’s my chance.

I bend to pick up my wet shirt and as I stand, I glance towards Mack, then across the stream.

One heartbeat, that’s all it took for me to decide which direction to run in. And three steps, that’s all it took for me to cross the cool crystal clear stream where I had just washed my face.

chapter nineteen

I wouldn’t recommend planning an escape with a concussion, and then actually carrying it out. I’m pretty sure I only made it five hundred yards before Chuck caught up with me. He grabbed onto the back of my shirt, effectively bringing my escape to a halt.

Swinging around, I raise one arm and smack him in the side of the neck, then I kick him in the balls. “That’s for knocking me in the skull with the slingshot, jerk!”

As Chuck groans and grabs himself, I take off running with the sound of Mack yelling. Running around trees and over the debris of the forest floor, I don’t have to turn around to know that they are following me. I can hear them, even over my labored breaths and the ringing in my ears.

A tiny bit of joy takes over the fear flooding my chest as I focus on the forest before me and see what looks like a narrow clearing filled with bright sunlight.

The tracks! It has to be the tracks.

Not even sure that I could keep running like this, or what I would do once I make it to the clearing, I continue on with hope being the only thing keeping me moving.

I can tell by the sound of hollow pings hitting the nearby trees that they are shooting at me. Three hit my back. I weave side-to-side as I run, afraid that one more shot to the head and I’ll be too damaged to do much for Crane any longer.

As the bright light of the clearing draws nearer, I reach out with one hand, wanting to pull myself towards it, towards home. But all that hope is dashed as a hard object pings off of the back of my head.

--

This time when I wake, I can feel that they actually strapped me to the horse. A tight rope digs into my back. Blinking to clear my blurry eyes, I can see that it extends around the horse’s body.

I take in my surroundings.

This time Mack takes my horse’s reins as we walk. I stare at the back of his head, noticing that his hair reaches almost to his shoulders. It’s strange for a man. But then, I’m sure it’s not easy getting a haircut these days. I haven’t had one in years.

“What are those marks on your back?” Mack asks me. He turns, his gray eyes looking into mine.

He must have seen the marks when I was washing myself in the stream. I don’t answer. I don’t know how much he knows about the Districts and I’m definitely not going to be the one to tell him where they are. I don’t want him knowing how much I know. And I’m pissed that they hit me in the head again. So I just stare back at him.

“You put them there or someone else?” he asks.

Someone else put every single one of them there but, “I didn’t,” is all I tell him.

He nods. It’s a deliberately slow nod. One that tells me he understands my words and the tone of my voice, someone else put those marks on my back, the marks of each District, so I would never forget what I learned during my tour. Well, it looks like what I learned no longer matters, seeing how Crane no longer has control over me. Now the Survivors do.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Just up here a bit. Won’t be long now.”

I stare straight ahead, watching Chuck walk in front of us. The slingshot sways in his back pocket. Maybe if I could get a gun, or the slingshot, any weapon, maybe I could get myself out of here.

Even with all the thoughts of escape, I don’t make a move. The horse is too high for me to easily get down, plus they’ve strapped me to the animal. And I’m sure I’m not much of a match for three men. I sigh to myself in defeat. It’s a pathetic sigh, collected from deep inside my lungs. I inhale loud and blow it all back out. It doesn’t help me feel any better.

Mack must hear me. “Give up with yourself?” he asks. It’s almost like he’s been listening to me talk in my head the whole time.

I decide to change the subject. “What state are we in?” I ask him. Sam had mentioned we were almost to Pennsylvania so that leads me to believe we are in the Virginias.

“West Virginia,” he says with a nod. “One of the safest places you could be out here. Surrounded by state parks.”

“So we’re going to a state park?” I ask.

“Nope, sleepy little town in the middle of the state parks. Romney is what they call it, what the sign says anyway. There was no one left here when we came about.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough.”

Hearing our conversation, Chuck turns and glares in our direction. Must be Mack isn’t supposed to tell me these things.

“What do you want with me?” I ask Mack.

“I told you. Someone wants to meet with you.”

“I don’t know anyone out here,” I tell him. “Who is it?”

“You’ll find out. Soon enough.” Mack swings his arm down and plucks a tall piece of grass from the ground, breaks it, and begins chewing on the end.

The walk continues for a few more miles until I see the break in the forest, the bright daylight shining in from a clearing. Mack stops my horse and begins untying the rope that tethers me in place.

I sit up, grasping the horse’s mane as my head spins.

“We’re almost there,” he tells me as he pulls the coil of rope out of his pocket. “Hold your hands out.” I do and watch as he coils the rope around my wrists. From another pocket I watch as he pulls out a piece of fabric and shakes it open. I recognize it, even though I never saw it in the daylight. Knowing what comes next, I bend down. He places the stiff cloth over my head and then we start moving again.

The horses’ footsteps change from the soft steps of walking on the forest floor to the hollow clomps of them walking on pavement. It’s not long before the motion stops. “Time to get down,” Mack says. He grips me by my upper arms and pulls me down from the horse. Although he is tall and obviously strong enough to be placing me up on the horse and lifting me off, I still don’t take kindly to being manhandled. Or maybe it’s that we’ve come to our final destination and I fear what comes next. Either way, I wretch my shoulders from his grasp. It seems he just takes the rope that binds my hands and pulls me in the direction we are going.

“Step up,” he tells me as my toes hit something hard. I stumble, trying to walk up the steps, unable to see. I must have made him angry, pulling away from him. Now he makes no attempt to help. He doesn’t tell me that the steps stop and I wind up taking a step onto air and stumble. Mack just pulls me along. There is the sound of a door opening and I notice the difference in flooring and smell. Wherever we are, it’s a place that hasn’t been used for a long time. No longer feeling my arms being pulled along, I stop. Someone clears their throat.

“It’s her,” I hear Chuck’s young voice announce proudly. “We’ve captured that Sovereign woman from Phoenix.”

It’s as if they’ve found someone so important, or the missing link, or a unicorn. I want to tell them that I am no one special. Nothing more than a prisoner, forced to do things I never wanted to do. I feel my wrist being twisted and inspected just like before.

“Thought she’d be bigger.” I feel someone poke at my shoulder. “More regal or something. Short. She looks like a teenager.”

I want to shout at them that I am an adult and I’ve finally reached the grand age of thirty. I have children at home waiting for me and a husband. But I don’t say any of those things, I keep my mouth shut. I feel someone brush my hair away from my neck. They grasp the chain around my neck. My necklace. The one Adam gave me, the one I hung my wedding band on. He tugs hard, pulling it off. “Take her to the penthouse.”

I turn my head, his voice suddenly sounding slightly familiar but hard to place with the disruption from the bag and the sounds of footsteps around me. Unable to place the voice, I am led away by a tight grasp on my elbow. We walk, up stairs and down long hallways. I hear a door open. The ties across my wrists are undone.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” I hear Mack’s voice.

The cloth is pulled off my head. Someone shoves my shoulder, hard. I stumble and as the door slams I open my eyes.

This is not a penthouse.

This is a windowless room with a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. There is a cot in the corner, a small sink, a toilet. And that’s it. I turn around, running towards the door. There’s no handle, no window, no bars. I bang on the door with my fist.

“Hey!” I yell. “Let me out!” I pound on the door with all my might. “Mack! Mack! Let me out of here!”

My shouts are only answered with silence. I walk across the room and, running, I slam my body into the door. It doesn’t budge. It doesn’t even move. I do it again and again, until my shoulder aches from the impact. Finally, I hear footsteps and voices. I watch the door, waiting for it to open, noticing a small hinge at the bottom of the door. The hinged portion pushes forward, hitting my foot. Someone has pushed through a tray with a bottle of water and a piece of bread.

Prisoner food.

chapter twenty

Time passes. Too much time. Much more time than I am comfortable with. They turn the light off. They turn the light on. This is my only judgment of time since I have no clock and no window to see the light. I wash the blood out of my hair in the rust-stained sink. I spend my days yelling at the door, trying to get someone to let me out. No one does. Sometimes, when I hear the footsteps of people walking down the hall I shout at them. I bang on the door. I shout for Mack and Chuck to let me out. I wish I knew that other guy’s name just so I would have another name to yell.

“Thought she was something special to them?” I hear a voice say on my fifth day. “They haven’t sent anyone for her.”

“That’s because she’s crazy,” I hear Chuck’s voice. “They were probably happy to get rid of her.”

I stop my pacing and slouch against the wall just as a tray is pushed under the door. This time it’s a boiled potato and a small bruised apple.

As I eat, I rub my fingers across the lump on my arm where Crane injected the transmitter after I completed my final task and Morris died. Crane can track me and yet, he has sent no one. With the speed of that train Sam should have been home by the next morning after the night they took me, unless something happened to him.

They turn the light off. I finish my meal in the darkness. Feeling the rough door, I move my hands until I find the hinged area at the bottom and push the tray through before I make my way to the cot in the darkness.

I don’t like this prison and all of its loneliness. I miss my old prison, The Pasture. I miss my home, my children, my husband, my long walks in the fields. That prison was much more tolerable than this one, even if I did have to deal with Crane. At least I had my family with me. At least I knew they were safe. Right now, I know nothing and it makes me think about how little I have known since The Reformation occurred.

--

Sometimes they give me what tastes like bread crumbled in some kind of milk, goat milk I think. Its thick consistency clogs my throat. It makes me wonder if they have a farm here. They must be growing their own food. This must be a settlement of some sort.

Today I get a spoon. I use the spoon to mark the wall. There are ten lines, ten days I think I’ve been here. I stare at the bottle of water, wishing it were coffee. I guess I was really quite spoiled having a coffee maker in my house. I’m not sure where they got the coffee beans from. I never asked. Thinking about it now, I realize that was quite stupid of me to never ask Morris where those products came from.

I open the bottle of water and take a sip. It tastes sweet today, as though they’ve added a bit of sugar. I stare at the wall. I pace the room. I hold my ear to the door, listening. Only footsteps, no voices. This is how I spend my day.

“Let me out!” I yell and bang on the door. “Mack! Chuck!”

Nothing.

The light is switched off. I lie down and close my eyes. The nightmares start. I’ve been so long without them I almost forgot how bad they were, how bad they are. They must hear me screaming in my sleep, whoever is standing guard outside my door. They wake me by pounding on the door. But the light stays off. It must still be night. Eventually I keep my eyes open, afraid to close them, afraid of what I will see. I lay there drenched in sweat, my throat dry, waiting until they turn the light back on.

When they push the tray into my room, I get up and sit by the door. More crusted stale bread and a bottle of water. My throat is so dry from the sweating nightmares. I open the water and take long gulps of it. When half of the bottle is gone, I stop and give myself a chance to breathe.

The water is sweet again today. I stare at it, with the feeling that there is something not quite right. I hold it up to the bare bulb that illuminates my room and notice small particles floating in the water. They aren’t small translucent sugar particles, these ones are solid. I get that dropping feeling in my gut. Something is in this water.

I push it away, along with the bread. I push it all the way under the door and away from me so it can’t tempt me. I turn on the water from the small sink. It’s tinted a rusted red, the same with the toilet water. The same way it’s been since the first day I got here. I can’t drink this water.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, focusing on the newly worn hole in my sock, I have just one thought: I have to get out of here.

When the light goes off, I don’t close my eyes. I keep them open. I envision the starry night sky from the Pasture. It’s a perfect picture with tiny dots. I start counting them.

Two days of this. I don’t eat their food. I don’t drink their spiked water. My stomach grumbles. My lips are dry, cracked, and sore.

I can feel it starting again, like when I was first banished to the Pasture. Except this time there’s nothing to distract me, just white walls and a cot. There’s no water tower to climb. No forests to wander. I never thought this would happen, but I suddenly crave the Phoenix District. I miss my home, the people. I miss my children. God help me, I miss Ian and all his smothering goodness.

I have to get out of here.

They turn the light off. I don’t close my eyes. At least I didn’t think I did, but somehow I am transported to the Pasture. I’ve had this dream before, I remember it. Wake up! I stare at the house before me. The small farmhouse. I can see them. Lina, Sam, Ian, even Blithe and the boys are all trapped in the house, pounding on the windows, screaming for help. I can see the bomb whistling through the sky. It looks like one of those atomic bombs from the old cartoons, large and bulbous, headed straight for the house. I run, screaming, pulling on the door, trying to break the windows. But it’s no use. I can’t get them out. I stay on the porch as the bomb whistles down, crashing through the house, exploding. I was hoping it would kill me too, but all it does is throw me away from the house so I can watch it go up in flames, consuming everyone I love.

Then I am screaming, trying to run back to them so I can pull their bodies from the wreckage, so I can be a nurse again and fight to save them. But I can’t. Something is holding me back, pulling me by the hair. Even in my dream state I remember it was Crane before, holding me back. This time when I turn it’s nothing more than a faceless man. A ghost.

“Let go of me!” I scream at the ghost.

He reaches his bony skinless phalanges and, grasping the skin of my upper arm, he twists it, hard. My eyes open. The burning house, the faceless ghost, they are gone. I take a deep breath. Someone is shaking me. The light flicks on. A face comes into focus before me.

“Andie, wake up,” it says.

I recognize the voice. I focus on the man in front of me. His hair is long, his beard thick, but his eyes, those are the same light blue.

I’m still dreaming. I have to be dreaming because Adam’s ghost is right in front of my face.

“No!” I feel myself freeze. I don’t know what they put in that water, but it’s making me hallucinate, I’m sure of it.

“Andie?” it asks.

“No! No!” I pull back. “You’re dead! You died!” I pull harder, trying to get away from it. His hands are cold, freezing.

“I’m here,” the ghost tells me, its voice calm and soothing.

“Get away from me!”

“It’s me, Andie,” the ghost says again.

“No!” I scream, pulling. The ghost grips my arms tighter. “You’re dead.” I close my eyes hard. Wake up, wake up, wake up! I pull myself harder, I wretch my shoulders. He won’t let me go. I pull my knees up, tipping myself back and I kick him square in the chest with the soles of both of my feet. He stumbles back. Ghosts don’t feel like that. I’m sure they aren’t that solid, like kicking a brick wall. The ghost regains its balance, staring at me as though it’s surprised.

I should be surprised. I’m the one seeing a ghost. I’ve never seen a ghost before. I must be stuck in some horrible dream, or somewhere in the middle, is there a place between dreaming and awake? They definitely put something in the food or in that water.

“Go away,” I tell it.

“I won’t. I’m here.”

“No, you are dead!” I scream at the ghost. I push my tangled hair away from my face. I’m losing it.

The ghost paces, just like I’ve been doing for days. Every few steps it stops and looks at me, its eyes sunken, almost hollow. I pull my legs up, burying my face in my knees, trembling. I can’t look at it anymore. He’s dead. Adam is dead. He died years ago to save me and Raven. I buried him. I buried his T-shirt that smelled so good, just like he did, so I could forget him. I mourned him and then I hated him for leaving us and for lying to me about who he was. I can’t think straight. I need to wake up.

“Go away!” I tell the ghost.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You lied to me,” I tell the ghost. “I went to the house. That was not your family. Waters is not your last name.”

The ghost sighs. I lift my head. He’s still there, standing across from me, leaning back, his shoulders resting on the wall.

“Leave me alone!” I yell at it.

I rock myself and count. One, two, three, four, five… I have to focus. I have to wake up. When I reach one hundred I raise my head. Adam’s ghost pushes off the wall. It stalks towards the door and knocks three times. The door opens, he leaves.

Ghosts don’t use doors. They walk through them. They can walk through walls. I’m sure of it. All the ghost stories I heard as a child or watched on television, ghosts don’t use doors.

I crawl to the door and knock three times just like the ghost did. Nothing happens. I stare at the door longer, waiting for the ghost to return. I knock three times again. Nothing. I crawl back to my cot. I resume my position of my forehead on my knees. I rock. I count. I try to remember the smell of Lina’s hair, the feel of Raven’s chubby fingers on my cheek. I sniff, holding back the burn of impending tears.

The light goes off and since I never woke up, I just continue on dreaming.

--

We sit at the dinner table just as a normal family would. Not a family that has been saddled with the tasks that we have. The promises of the future. One child destined to run this District with her peers, the other whose destiny is uncertain because he has never spoken a word. My Lina. My Raven. Even though I’m sleeping, I can feel the wrenching in my chest. I miss them so much.

Just a few years ago, when I took the tour of the Districts, there was a time that I feared I would die. I told Adam so. And that fear of death, of uncertainty in my future, it gave me fear in life. I see now that I was afraid that from the grave I could not protect my children. I could not ensure that Crane wouldn’t steal Lina way from me. I look at her now. Almost ten years old, smarter and stronger than I ever expected her to be. She is caring and attentive towards her little brother, a brother I never thought I could give her. Yes. I was afraid of death. I was afraid of their future without me. But now Ian is strong. Sam and Elvis are ready. And while I may fear the Survivors descending upon this place, I no longer fear for the safety of my children. I am certain that Ian will protect them. He will find a way, now that he knows a fraction of what he is up against.

Somehow as I sleep the realization comes to me: I no longer fear death. I know it will bring me one thing: peace. This new awareness comforts me.

“You okay?” my dream Ian asks from across the table. I look into his scrutinizing eyes and see a flash of concern. Perhaps I was making some type of a face. I smile, relishing in the fact that I can see his dark brown eyes one last time.

“Fine,” I tell him.

My stomach grumbles and I look down at the plate in front of me. It’s spaghetti and I am hungry. Starved from two days of denying the food my keepers have slid under my door. But this is not real food. This is dream food, it will not give me comfort. Seeing my family will though.

I look up at Ian. His face is so perfect in this dream. He reaches across the table and squeezes my wrist, the wrist that has the imprint of the Phoenix District. “You sure?” he asks again.

Lina and Raven look up from their meal, Astrid too.

“Perfect, actually,” I tell him.

“You sure?” He squeezes my wrist again.

The children look between us. I smile at them. “Yeah, I’m sure,” I tell them all. “I love you.”

When I open my eyes it’s still dark. I remember the dream. It wasn’t like the others. I wasn’t scared, or worried. This dream was my soul divulging one true fact: I’m not afraid to die, not anymore. At this point I could almost welcome it. Dr. Drake was right when he told me I was weak. Only a weak person could totally give up right now.

Lying on the cot, defeated, I can feel it before it hits me; the heavy shallow breaths, the soda-bubble burn in the back of my nasal cavity. I press my lips together, trying to hold it in, trying to swallow the tears that are threatening. A small squeak gets out. I roll over and press my face into the mattress with the realization that I am sure I will not make it home ever again. I cry.

--

The light comes on. The door opens. Still lying on my stomach, my face pressed into the damp mattress, I turn my head to the side, looking to see who has entered the room. It’s the ghost again. I stare at him from the cot. I should move to a more defensive position, but I just don’t care anymore. The ghost stares back as it sits on the floor across from me.

“Want something to eat?” the ghost asks.

“No,” I whisper to the ghost.

“You look hungry.” The ghost itches its now neatly trimmed beard on its chin.

“I’m not hungry and I don’t want the food, it’s poisoned.” My stomach growls loudly.

The ghost makes a face. “You’re obviously hungry.”

“I’m not hungry. I’m dreaming and dream food doesn’t fill a stomach.”

“You are still a particularly bad liar,” the ghost replies. “And you’re not dreaming.”

“Then how am I talking to a dead man?” I blink at the ghost, my eyes feeling like sandpaper. “I am dreaming.”

“I’m not dead.”

“Yes, you are. And this is a dream, a terrible horrible dream, just like I used to have.” I glare at the ghost before pressing my face back into the soggy mattress. “They stopped when you died,” I mumble out into the mattress. “And now they’re back.”

“Mine never stopped,” the ghost tells me.

I turn my head to look at him. “Ghosts don’t dream.”

He shakes his head, frustrated. “I’m not a ghost.”

“Yes, you are. It’s the only way, the only explanation.” I move to sit up, ignoring the quivering of my limbs. “My God, they’ve had me in here so long I’ve lost it. I’ve gone mad. I have to wake up. I have to do something to wake up!” I hear my voice in my ears. But it doesn’t sound like me. I sound crazy. I slap my cheeks.

“You are awake,” the ghost tells me with a calm voice.

I point at the ghost with a trembling arm. “Shut up, Ghost!” I let my feet drop to the floor and walk to the door, the ghost watching me as I move. I knock three times. I hear footsteps.

“Don’t answer the door!” the ghost hollers.

The footsteps stop and then walk away.

“What the hell!” I turn back to the ghost.

“You are awake,” it tells me again.

“You are a ghost!” I point angrily at the figure on the floor. I look at my hand, it still shakes.

“No. I’m not.” He stands. This ghost is tall. I don’t remember Adam being this tall. But then, it was years ago that I last saw him or stood next to him. Maybe we get taller when we become ghosts. That would be nice, gaining a little height. I drop to a crouch as the ghost takes a step towards me. Creeping along the wall, pressing myself against it as though it may protect me, I scoot away from him until I reach the comfort of my cot.

“Get away from me, Ghost,” I warn it.

He starts walking toward me slowly, as though he is trying to calm a feral animal. His eyes are boring into mine, his palms face-up. “I’m not a ghost,” he repeats.

He has to be; his eyes are sunken, his face thin, but… his skin seems darker, tan from the sun. Maybe my vision is going, from not seeing daylight in so long. “You’re a ghost. And I’ve lost my shit. Now go away so I can wake up.”

“I’m not a ghost.” He stands in front of me now, his arms crossed.

I pull my knees up and close my eyes. I squeeze them shut as hard as I can, pressing my face into my knees. The mattress gives as he sits on the cot next to me. I feel him scoot closer.

“Go away, Ghost.”

He smoothes my tangled hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “I’m not a ghost,” he replies softly. I feel him reach under me and pull me onto his lap.

“Stop it, Ghost,” I tell him numbly.

“Still not a ghost.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.

Oh God. I remember this smell. It’s just like the shirt I buried in the ground, a woodsy spice and bergamot. Ghosts don’t smell like this. They can’t. I am certain. This is a dream. It has to be. I raise my head. He looks pale now. Crap, he could still be a ghost. Or I could be losing my vision.

“They took my necklace,” I tell him.

“I’ll get it back.”

“You’re dead.”

“No. I’m right here, Andie.”

“I’m talking to a ghost.”

“It’s ok.” He rubs my back.

“I’m fucked up,” I think.

“It’s ok,” the ghost says.

It must be able to read my thoughts. Unless… I touch my lips, maybe I was talking. “I’m dying in here,” I think. My lips move. I must be talking.

“I’ll get you out.” He kisses the top of my head.

“You can’t. You’re a ghost.”

“God damn it, Andie.” He pushes my shoulders away from him and stares into my eyes. They’re still the same light blue, tropical ocean water blue. Just like Raven’s. “I am not a ghost. I am here.”

“You are dead, Adam! You died. And I haven’t been the same. I’ve been sad ever since you left us.”

“Did you cry?” The ghost asks oddly, tipping his head to the side.

“No. Not for you.” I never cried for him. I’ve only cried for my children.

The ghost frowns. “Maybe you should. Maybe it would help.”

This ghost is pissing me off. He just won’t go away and he’s killing me, making me it worse. I can’t handle this. “Fuck you,” I tell him.

“That’s not nice.” His eyes emit a glimmer of amusement.

“Neither is tormenting me.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

I push at him, wanting to get away, but his hands are clasped behind my back. Each time I struggle he just pulls me closer. Finally, I reach up and slap him as hard as I can. I’m expecting my palm to pass through him, just like the ghosts of the movies. But instead of feeling cold ghost air I feel something else: there is skin and bone and red that seeps from his lip.

Oh shit. Ghosts don’t bleed.

He lets go, his hands releasing my back the instant I make this realization. Ghosts definitely don’t bleed. I scramble off his lap, my eyes wide and panicked. I am not sleeping, this is not a dream.

“Oh my God,” I tell the ghost. No, I tell Adam. “You’re alive.”

chapter twenty-one

Adam has escaped death once already. Back when the world was different and he was in the Middle East being tortured for information. He escaped his death then, when they decided they were done with him. He has the scars to prove it. But this survival, there was no military to fix his battered body, if what Crane told me was what really happened. The only things out here are the Survivors. Still, he somehow survived. I have never known a person who has escaped death twice.

“You’re not dead.” I back up to the wall, feeling comfort in its solidity, hoping that the sensation of pressing my bones against the hard wall might ground me for this moment.

It seems we have switched places.

“No. I’m not. I told you that already.”

“Why?” I ask him, shaking my head. “How?”

“Long story.”

“But… you’re supposed to be dead, Adam.”

“I’m not. I never died. I may have come close a few times, but it didn’t happen.”

“Where have you been?” I ask.

“I was in Colorado. I came as soon as I heard they had you.”

“What’s in Colorado?”

“It’s where I live now.”

I stare at him. They let him in here, whoever is keeping me in this room. That means he might be able to get me out of here.

“Get me out if here,” I tell him.

“I can’t.”

“I haven’t seen my children in days, weeks. I don’t know how long it’s been. This place is making me crazy. I’m losing it.”

“I can tell.” He takes a step towards me, pressing his sleeve to his bleeding mouth.

“Get me out of here, Adam.”

“I’m trying.” He winces as he presses on his damaged lip.

“I’m begging you.” I stop myself from falling to my knees and raising my hands to him. That would make me look more pathetic than I already do. Still, I consider the act.

His expression tightens and he seems to forget about his lip. “You should never beg for anything, ever.”

“I have to,” I argue with him. “I need to go home.”

“I’ll figure something out.” He glances towards the door. “Come here.” He looks towards me again and holds his hand out. I look at it, trying to figure out how I should feel right now. I know that if I take his hand he will pull me to him, and I can’t have that. I am familiar with the feelings that his closeness brings. “Come here,” he beckons me again.

“I… I can’t,” I tell him.

“Why?” A deep crease appears between his eyes.

“You lied to me. You left us.”

“I know.” He drops his hand, the one he was holding out to me.

“Do you know we buried you, Adam? I buried you. Every day I visited your grave. I brought your son there. We mourned you and here you’ve been the entire time.” I pause, trying to lick my dry lips so I can talk more. “He looks just like you. Blue eyes, dark hair. Lina named him Raven.” He smiles a small bit. “I could never forget you even if I tried because every time he looks at me, I see you.” He smiles again. “Don’t smile about it, Adam. Things aren’t all perfect. Crane is trying to get rid of him, your son, because he’s quiet. He’s never spoken a word, he’s never uttered a sound. Crane thinks Raven is handicapped in some manner.”

“I know,” Adam bows his head.

“No, you don’t,” I tell him. “You don’t know anything. Morris died. I’ve replaced him. I had to reunite with Ian. District rules, they didn’t want me tarnishing their family image, their guidelines. Do you understand what that means? I had to move on. If I had known all the time that you were alive, you’re alive, Adam! And you didn’t think to come back to us? Why?”

“Because,” he spits out. “Because Crane left me to die on that rooftop. After all I’ve done for him. For the Districts. For the Reformation. I’m going to ruin him. If it’s the last thing I do.”

“We are already working on getting him ejected. Elvis and Ian and me. That’s what I was doing out here. I met with the other District leaders, a few are on board but it’s hard, they’re all afraid of him. Then there’s Tonopah. I don’t know if Sakima will ever be on board. Either way, they’re all on board, they’re siding with us.”

“I’m going to do more than get him booted.”

“What?”

“I’m going to kill him.” Adam looks away from me.

“Is that all you care about?” I ask. “Getting revenge on Crane?”

“You would too, if he had shot you and left you to die.”

“He told me that the Survivors shot you.”

“He lied. He always lies. You know that.”

“Crane shot you…”

“Yes.” He presses his finger to his chest, just to the left of his heart. “Right here. Point blank with the pistol in his hand.”

My jaw drops slightly. “How did that not kill you?”

The corner of Adam’s lip tips up. “Bulletproof vest. Not Volker issue, of course. My own. Thinner, less noticeable. Didn’t stop the shock, still knocked me out for a few minutes.”

“And then?”

He takes a step away from me, thumbs hanging on the belt-loops of his waistband. “You don’t want to know the rest.”

I swallow hard, trying not to imagine all of the horrible things the Survivors could have put him through. “So you’re going to kill Crane, and then what? What will you do after you kill him?”

“Something.”

“You have no desire to come back to us?”

“You already told me, you have Ian. You replaced me.” He looks into my eyes and, dropping his voice barely above a whisper, he tells me, “I never replaced you, Andie.”

I don’t know what to say.

He walks towards the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask, not wanting him to leave me.

“I have to go barter.”

He knocks three times. The door opens. He leaves. I let my body slide to the floor. I wish I could say my mind was numb. Instead, it’s reeling.

I sit for an unknown amount of time, my thoughts interrupted when a tray slides under the door. There are two bottles of water this time, two pieces of bread, a brown banana, and a little sad potato. I take the tray, hesitant to eat. My stomach growls louder. It’s been over two days. I have to eat this. I pick up the bottles of water and hold them to the light. This time nothing floats. I open the first bottle and sip. There is no sweetness. I eat the meal.

--

I sit on the floor, eating my breakfast of bread soaked in goat milk. The door opens without a knock and Adam enters my cell.

“Why are you eating on the floor?” he asks, his face twisted in confusion.

I look around the room, chewing. “I don’t see a table anywhere.”

“You could sit on the bed.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want crumbs on it.”

He sits across from me, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands.

“You said you were going to get me out,” I remind him.

“I am. I just need a few more days.”

“I can’t wait any longer. It’s getting worse. I haven’t seen the sun in weeks. I haven’t felt the air on my skin. I’m not some war criminal. I don’t know who these people are. One minute I’m traveling with Sam and the next we are being ambushed. I didn’t do anything. I don’t deserve this. I want to go home. I want to see my children.”

“Why were you traveling with a load of horses and guns?” he asks me.

“We were preparing for an attack. Survivors at the fence in Phoenix and Crystal River. We were preparing to defend ourselves.”

“Why didn’t you pick up troops in Tonopah?” he asks me.

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Just tell me. I’ll explain later.” He moves to rest his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together, he sets his chin on them. Waiting.

“George Crossbender pointed out that the people of Tonopah are all medicated. All of them. You remember? They won’t follow our orders. They will only follow the orders of Sakima. We didn’t want those troops within our walls. They can’t be trusted.”

Adam nods. “How were you going to get rid of Crane?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” he asks, annoyed.

“Are you trying to get information out of me?” I ask him, thinking that maybe this is how he’s going to barter. Trade me for information.

“Yes.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Adam. I’ve always told you everything.”

“Yes, you did. And that’s why Crane tried to kill me. He said that I knew too much. Now tell me how you were going to get rid of him?”

“I don’t know. Elvis and Sam and Ian had some plan. Alexander said he was in but only if he could go back to Hanford to be with his family. We weren’t going to decide until I got back with the supplies. I was hoping there would be a diversion with the attack from the Survivors and we could force him out and let the Survivors have him.”

Adam nods, digesting what I’ve told him.

“You weren’t like this before, Adam.”

“Things are different now.” He narrows his eyes at me, his mood shifting. “You’re one of them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re an Entity now. I know the pedestal Crane keeps you on.”

“Did you forget, Adam, if that is even your real name?” I reach forward and jerk his wrist out. “You were Sovereign too. We share the same mark!” I look down to see his wrist covered with a thick leather band. I feel him tense under my hand. His pulse increases to a fast beat under my fingertips. I shouldn’t have touched him. “You know that I had no choice in the matter. You brought me to them, Adam! You know what they did to me!”

“I have a plan.” He stares at my hand on his wrist. I drop it and move away from him.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” I tell him. “One minute you’re telling me you’re going to get me out of here, the next you’re prodding me for information and labeling me as being one of them. I had no choice. You know this.”

“You shouldn’t worry about it. You have Ian.”

I lean back, confused by his response. It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t make sense. But then, not much of this does.

“Don’t be a dick, Adam. I don’t understand what’s going on with you right now. Yes, Ian is there, he’s still not the same. It’s never been the same since you showed up.”

“You have Ian,” he tells me again. As he stands, he opens his hand and reveals my necklace. I take it from him. Then he walks for the door, stopping before he knocks. “They want to trade you for Crane,” he tells me.

Adam knocks three times, then turns to see me staring with my mouth open. He knows exactly what I know: Crane will never trade himself for me. I catch a gleam of this in Adam’s eyes right before he walks out of my cell.

--

“It’s been a few days.” I stand in the middle of my room as Adam enters.

“I know.”

“What’s taking so long?”

“I just need you to do one thing.” He pauses, pondering, with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans and his shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, his face takes on a brooding stare.

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You have to.”

“No, I don’t.”

“They’re watching. I told them we were together. That I want you back. They don’t believe me. They said if you kiss me, then you can go. We can go. I’ll take you back to Phoenix.”

“I thought they wanted Crane?”

“They do, but we have to go get him. A swap at the gates. Are you ready?” he asks. “Are you ready to go home?”

I stare at his lips, remembering how they felt. How good it felt. What it was like to be in his arms. I made that mistake before. I can’t do it again. I can’t bear to see what it would do to Ian.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re lying to me.”

“Then you stay,” he threatens.

“No! I can’t stay here any longer.”

He looks at me with a steely gaze. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asks, his voice gruff.

“Like you’re a porn star or something. Actually, don’t ever look at me like that again. Period. I hate you, Adam. I hate that you left us. I hate that you lied to me. Every single chance you got you lied to me. And here you are, lying again.”

He smiles. Standing, he walks closer to me. I walk backwards until my back presses firmly against the wall. I am in an unfortunate position. Adam stops, his toes millimeters from mine.

Lowering his voice, “They’re watching,” he tells me, his eyes flitting towards the door.

I turn my head just slightly, seeing shadows pass from a small crack in the door that I never noticed before. I look back to Adam. He licks his lips.

“Kiss me now and we walk out that door,” he whispers as his eyes gaze down to the necklace around my neck. The one he retrieved for me.

“You’re lying,” I tell him, my heart thumping faster in my chest.

“Try me.” He leans forward, the tip of his nose trails across my cheekbone, to the sensitive skin of my ear, down my neck. I feel his warm breath there, caressing my collarbone. Trying not to shiver or groan or anything is too difficult with him so close, doing what he’s doing.

I close my eyes, trying to think straight. Of all of my options I can’t think of a worse one. Ian already forgave me for everything else that happened, but this, if he found this out, Adam offering to save me in exchange for a kiss. I’m confident Ian will kill him if he ever finds him or maybe Ian will finally give up on me.

It’s nothing, I tell myself. Just a kiss. Just a quick kiss. It would mean nothing. Just my freedom. It could mean nothing. Or it could bring me more trouble. Loads of trouble.

I open my eyes to find Adam staring down at me still. He raises his eyebrows.

“I hate you for this,” I tell him.

“Good,” he replies, resting his hands on the wall behind me.

“I buried you once already. This is unfair.”

“Life is unfair,” he replies in a whisper.

“This will never happen again.”

His lip twitches at the corner.

“This will never happen again,” I repeat, more for me than him.

I take a breath in, and moving up on my toes, I press my lips to his. I kiss the dead man, the dead man who saved my life multiple times. And I take that tingling feeling in my gut and push it to somewhere dark and far away. That feeling is reserved for Ian, not Adam. He is dead to me and I can never feel that way about him again. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, I count in my head. Then I pull away, the soles of my feet planted firmly on the floor, my back against the wall. When I look back up to Adam he is staring at me with a thoughtful gaze.

“Was that so hard?” he asks.

“You have no idea how hard that was,” I tell him before fixing my eyes on the empty space behind his shoulder.

He nods. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Taking my hand, he turns and walks towards the door. He knocks three times. The door opens and I recognize Chuck with a smug look on his face. He thinks I’m crazy. He’s right.

We step into the hallway. It’s dark, the only light coming from the ends of the hallway where large windows stream in daylight. I notice the long hallway with doors every few yards. There is colorful tile on the wall. Short lockers line the walls. I know where we are. We are in a school. I turn, looking at the room we have exited, seeing the faded area on the wall where it looks like a sign was once attached. Judging from the size of the room and the presence of the toilet and the sink, I’m quite confident that they were holding me in none other than a large handicapped bathroom.

Suddenly I feel filthy. Filthier than the days I spent in there without a shower. A small noise of disgust escapes my throat.

“Want a hot shower?” Adam asks.

He must have heard me. “That would be great.”

“Come on then.”

I follow him down the hallway. He turns, headed for a bright stairwell. There are more large windows here. I follow him down the two flights. He turns left. We pass a few men in the hall who stop talking and watch as we walk by them.

“Where are we going?” I ask Adam.

“To the locker rooms. You said you wanted a shower.”

We pass classrooms and a double-door labeled Gymnasium. “Just up here,” Adam tells me. He stops at the end of the hallway in front of the door that has a plaque with the figure of a woman in a dress. I look across the hall and see another door with the figure of a man on it. Adam pushes on the women’s door, holding it open for me. I duck under his arm, stopping when I hear him following me.

“You can’t come in here,” I tell him, holding my hand up to stop his advance into the room.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s for women. Didn’t you read the sign on the door?”

“Get over it, Andie. You’re the only woman here right now and I’m not leaving you in here alone.”

“Fine,” I tell him. “Just don’t get any ideas. Remember, I hate you.”

I start down a row of lockers, finding a row of bathroom stalls and curtained shower stalls at the end of the room. I stop, looking down at myself. I have no change of clothes or soap or towels. “This is going to be a cold shower, isn’t it?” I ask Adam.

“No. They have some power here,” he tells me as he starts opening the lockers. “Just not a lot. So don’t go crazy. We don’t want to piss them off by draining the hot water tank.”

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“They said there were towels and soap in one of these lockers.”

“What about a change of clothes?”

“There are still old gym clothes in here.” He pulls out a dark pair of sweatpants and shakes them out. “Might fit you.”

I move to open the locker behind him and find a folded towel and bottle of liquid soap. “Jackpot!” I whisper as I take them and head for the shower.

I kick off my boots outside of the shower and hang the towel on the hook. Stepping into the stall fully clothed, I start the water. At first it’s cold, then freezing, then it begins to warm. I strip my dirty clothes off, squeezing the soap onto them and washing them as I go.

Lastly, I wash my body. When I think I’ve finally rinsed the last of the soap out of my hair, I wrap myself in the towel and hang my wet clothes on the towel hooks. Taking my now clean underwear, I head for the row of hand dryers attached to the wall, noticing Adam sitting on the benches near the lockers, a stack of folded clothes next to him. On the top of the pile is a pair of brightly colored lacy underwear and a sports bra. I cringe.

“What?” Adam asks innocently.

“Those underwear look a little small and slutty.” I point at the pile of clothes.

“Then free-ball,” he suggests with a shrug. “Dryers don’t work.”

I sigh and collect the stack of clothes from the bench. Returning to one of the dry shower stalls I dress myself in privacy. Removing the towel, I use it to dry my hair, twisting it into a turban on top of my head. Adam has found a pair of fitted black sweatpants, a T-shirt with the high school logo of a bear printed on the front, and a hooded sweatshirt. The pants are a little loose, the shirt way too tight. It’s a good thing the sweatshirt is just baggy enough to cover it all up. The clothes smell like stale dust. I leave the stall to look in one of the mirrors attached to the wall. The disappointment must be evident on my face.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asks as he stands.

“I look like I’m in high school in this getup.” I turn back to my wet clothes that are hanging on the hook. “Maybe I can change when those are dry.”

Adam hands me a pair of running sneakers. I check the tag and see they are about a half-size bigger than what I normally wear. He moves to the shower and taking my wet clothes and boots he throws them in the garbage.

“Hey!” I start.

“You can’t wear them again,” he tells me as he walks towards me. “It’s better that you look like a teenager. Give me your wrist.” I look down to see him holding a strip of cloth in his hand. “Your wrist with the mark.” His voice has the hint of impatience.

I pull the sleeve up on the sweatshirt and hold my wrist out to him. He wraps the cloth around my arm and knots it, covering the image of the phoenix. “I don’t want anyone else finding out who you are.”

“Why?” I ask.

“These Survivors were pretty happy to find you. And to think all I had to do was promise to trade you for Crane and let them keep the horses and guns. If others found out that you were loose, others who know what a value you are to Crane, we’d be in a load of trouble. It only took a few days for word to travel to me. I’m sure others will be looking for you soon enough.” He looks at my feet. “Put the sneakers on. We need to get out of here.”

I look down at the brightly colored shoes. “We’re at least two states away, Adam. I don’t think sneakers are the best shoes. I’d rather have my boots.”

“Too bad.” He shakes his head at me. “Let’s go.”

I bend to put the shoes on.

“Are you planning on bringing Crane back here?” I ask him as I tie the shoelaces.

“That’s the plan.” He looks towards the door as I untwist the towel from my hair.

“And you think Crane will come?” I ask running my fingers through the curls and tangles.

“Probably not without a fight. But since you already started a resistance group in Phoenix, it should be easier to get him out of there.”

“I didn’t start the group,” I tell him defensively. “I don’t want to be held responsible for starting the resistance from within Phoenix. Elvis started the group. I was one of the last ones asked to be involved. Elvis brought on Sam and Ian before he even spoke to me.”

“Then why did they send you out to speak with everyone?”

“Because Elvis said the other Entities trust me, that they would listen to me.”

“Hmm.” Adam looks around the empty locker room.

“Do you have more of that cloth?” I ask.

“For what?”

“So I can put my hair up.” I motion to the mass of hair cascading down my back.

His gaze falls over me. “You should leave it down,” he suggests.

“You shouldn’t have died, and then maybe I’d listen to your suggestions on how I should dress or do my hair.”

He reaches into his pocket, retrieving something and holding his hand out to me, I see a rubber hair-tie resting in his palm. I grab at it and twist my wet hair into a bun. “Jerk.”

“Are you ready yet?” Adam asks me impatiently. “Those men are going to think something else is going on in here if you take much longer.”

“Shut up.” I throw the towel in his face and march towards the door.

Adam grabs my arm before I get there. “You don’t leave my side,” he tells me, his face turning serious.

“Why?”

“What part of you’re the only woman here did you not understand?”

Without giving me a chance to answer, Adam opens the door and we walk out of the locker room together. I follow him down the hallway, past the gymnasium and the stairs. The same men stand in the hall, again they stop talking and watch as we walk past them. I notice Adam walking towards the front doors of the building.

“Don’t you need to speak to anyone?” I ask. “Let them know you are leaving?”

“Definitely not,” he replies, pushing on the door at the entrance of the school.

“Hey!” I hear a familiar voice shout down the hallway. Adam grabs my arm and turns. Mack walks swiftly towards us. He looks at me then back at Adam. “You sure you want to take her alone?” he asks.

Adam nods. “Yeah. I can handle her and it’ll be faster this way.”

Mack leans to look out the door. “You know, if you don’t come back Christian will be looking for you. Won’t be good,” he warns, his eyes settle on me. “She put up a fight. Tried to run twice-”

“About that, Mack,” I interrupt. “Tell Chuck thanks for the brain damage.”

Mack smirks. “I warned you not to run.” He turns to Adam. “You sure?”

“I told you. I can handle her,” Adam replies with confidence. “You tell Christian I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Would love to,” Mack says. “But I’ve never seen the soul.”

“I’ll be back. See you in a few days, Mack.” Adam nods.

We step out of the building and walk down the front steps. For the first time in a long time I am filled with a sense of relief at my current freedom. Happy that I didn’t die in that bathroom, relieved that I can go home. Finally.

And then something strikes me as odd, the fact that Mack is letting Adam walk out of here with me alone. I stop, turning to Adam. “They wouldn’t have let you walk out of here with me alone if they had known we were together before.”

Adam just stares at me, a smile starting.

“I didn’t have to kiss you back there. Did I? No one was watching.” His smile just grows wider. “You’re an ass.”

“Just think of it as a farewell kiss,” he says. “I never kissed you goodbye before I left to find you the medicine. I regret that every day.”

“You didn’t have to lie to me, again,” I tell him. “How are we getting back?” I ask, looking up and down the street.

“Well, I thought we could walk.” I cringe remembering the walk we took home after the bombings. “But then I figured, why walk when I have a truck?”

“What?” I ask shocked.

He starts walking across the street towards an old black truck, no, it’s not old. It’s a classic, with rounded corners. I run after him. “How do you have a truck? Does it even run?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“Because Crane bombed the entire country and there is no more fuel.”

“There’s some fuel. And a lot of people still have running vehicles. Fuel is just in very short supply.”

“You have enough to make it home?”

“We’ll see. I have enough to get us pretty far.”

“What about the roads?”

“Some are good and some are bad. These guys let me know what the local roads are like, the ones that are passable. We’ll just go as far as we can and then if we have to we’ll walk the rest of the way. It’s not like we haven’t done it before, Andie.”

He opens the passenger side door. I get in and watch as he makes his way to the driver’s side and gets in. He starts the truck and, shifting it into gear, he pulls away.

“Say good-bye to Romney, West Virginia,” Adam tells me as he drives down the street.

--

“Who’s Christian?” I ask as Adam drives down a bumpy country road.

“Someone who thinks he’s in charge of the Survivors.”

“Like their President or something?”

“Or something,” he murmurs as he stops at an intersection. Pulling forward, he leans, looking down the roads, deciding which one he should take. They both look clear to me. Adam turns the truck left and continues to drive.

“What’s it like in Colorado?” I ask.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because based on what Crane told us and what I heard from Dr. Drake, and what we’ve seen at the gates in Crystal River, it’s not safe and it’s not good.”

“Colorado is okay,” he says with a shrug.

“It’s safe?” I ask. “I mean… you’re safe there?”

“I have freedom.” He looks at me. “I don’t have someone telling me what to do. Colorado isn’t so bad. But there are other areas that are terrible. The east coast is being overrun with some pretty dangerous people right now. That’s why I came for you.”

“You’re not coming back to Phoenix are you?”

He turns to look at me. “Don’t you want me to come back?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I stare straight ahead and watch the trees pass by us.

“Why not?”

“Because everyone thinks you’re dead. Including Lina and Raven.” Bringing him back would only cause trouble.

He slows the truck to a stop and throws the gear into park. Turning towards me, with his arm stretched across the back of the seat, he asks, “Would you go back, now that you’re out?”

“Would I go back?” It seems like such an absurd question I can’t help but repeat it. “Of course. That’s where my family is.”

“Would you take them out of there if you had the chance?”

“They’re safe there, even with Crane. I can keep them safe now. We may not have freedoms, but I don’t have to worry about something terrible happening to them. We have food, electricity, a system that seems to work,” I tell him.

“And then there’s that little part where you altered the genome and created an entire sub-breed of humans.” He doesn’t even look at me when he says it.

“I didn’t have much of a choice in that.” I look away from him.

“You don’t feel responsible for it?” he asks as he shifts the truck into gear and starts driving again.

“Of course I do. But what was I suppose to do, Adam? You were there. You saw what was going on.”

“You don’t want to take responsibility for what you’ve created?”

“I was forced to, Adam.”

“You could have lied,” he suggests.

I shake my head. “No. Crane would have figured that out. He’s smart. Smarter than we think.”

He drives in silence and the silence makes me feel like he’s judging me, holding me responsible for altering the Residents. I don’t like it.

“I tried to leave.” I start again after we’d driven about a mile or so. “Remember? I took Lina and tried to run away from there. You remember what happened, even though you weren’t there? You saw me afterwards.” I move my hand, running my finger over the bump in my nose. “I couldn’t very well keep Lina safe if I were dead. What would you have done in my position?”

Adam stares straight ahead. I can see the muscle twitch in his jaw. “I would have killed him.”

“I wasn’t trained to kill people like you.”

“Training doesn’t matter, Andie. I’ve seen plenty of people kill out here. And most haven’t had any training. I guess it just comes down to what kind of a person you are.”

“I’ve had enough of death, Adam. That’s the kind of person I am. And I think I’m done with this conversation.” I turn my body away from him, facing the passenger side window. And curling up on the seat, I lay my head against the headrest and close my eyes.

--

Somehow I slept. The anger boiling through my veins had the opposite effect of keeping me awake, instead it lulled me into a deep sleep. Or, maybe it was the effects of a full stomach, a hot shower, and finally feeling safe with Adam at my side, knowing that I was going home.

I wake with a stiff neck and the realization that we are no longer moving. I sit up in a panicked rush, looking around the truck cab. Adam is no longer at the wheel. I look out the windows, turning full around until I find him standing at the rear of the vehicle. He’s filling the gas tank with cans from the back of the truck. Paying no attention to me, he looks up and down the long country road as he unscrews another gas can and pours its contents into the truck’s gas tank.

My legs tingle from being in the same position for so long. I open the door and slide out of the passenger seat until my feet hit the ground. Adam watches as I walk to the back of the truck, running my fingers across the paint. It’s a smooth black finish. Not a spot of rust or damage. It seems out of place here.

“How long did I sleep for?” I ask him as I reach the tailgate.

“About four hours.” He tips the gas can, draining the last few drops into the truck.

“How much further?”

“Maybe another four,” he says as he looks up to the sky.

I look up too. The day is fading, the moon already present in the evening sky, the sun headed for the horizon. “Do we travel at night?” I ask.

“That depends how long you want to be stuck in this truck with me.”

“What if you run out of gas?”

“Then we walk.”

“Great.” I look around us at the surrounding forests. “Haven’t run into anyone yet?” I ask.

Adam shrugs. “Passed a few people. Nothing exciting though.”

“I thought you said it was dangerous on the east coast?”

He looks down at me. “It is. That’s why we’re sticking to the back roads.”

I stare into the woods. My bladder spasms. “I have to pee.”

“Go for it,” he tells me, wiping his hands on a towel.

“You think it’s safe in there?” I ask, leaning towards the trees.

“Well, you could just do it behind the truck,” he shrugs at me and tosses the towel in the back of the truck.

I decide to relieve myself in the cover of the forest. Walking away from the truck, stepping over the tall grass and brush, I find a concealed area behind a thick bush. When I am done, I stand, adjusting my clothes. Then, hearing the rustling of leaves and snap of a stick, I run out of the forest as fast as I can.

Adam looks at me with wide, amused eyes. “Chupacabra?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him out of breath. “There were these people in Crystal River, they tried to climb the fence and get in. Ramirez said they were from the swamps of Louisiana. They spoke this Creole language. It was creepy.”

“Swamp people, huh?”

“Yeah. They were really strange.”

“I doubt they’d make it up this far.”

“They made it to Phoenix.”

“It was probably just a deer.” He looks behind me. “Ready?” he asks.

I walk to the passenger side door and climb into the truck. Adam slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

“How’s Lina?” he asks as he drives.

“She’s going to be ten this fall,” I tell him.

“That was fast.” His hands grip the steering wheel tighter. “She named the baby Raven?” he asks.

“Yes.” I smile at the memory of her deciding in the hospital.

“Why did she choose that name?”

“She said Ms. Black told her ravens were really smart, smarter than humans, and she said she knew he was a smart baby.”

Adam smiles to himself and then frowns. “What’s wrong with him?” he asks.

“Nothing. He’s just really quiet.”

“Is that normal?”

“Not really. But he’s there, always observing. He makes these faces when I bring him to school. I think he doesn’t like Blithe.”

“What kind of faces?”

“I don’t know how to describe it. He just looks like he’s pissed and bored to death.”

Adam lets out a light laugh. “When I was a kid, the school district told my parents that I wasn’t right.”

“I think I’d have to agree with them.”

Adam laughs again.

“Okay, in all seriousness, why?” I ask.

“Because I was quiet,” he replies with a smile. “And then when I was a little older they made me take this placement exam so they would know what classes to put me in. So they could judge where I needed extra help. I aced it.”

“What happened then?”

“My parents pulled me out of school. My mother quit her job at the salon, and taught me at home. I completed my high school work early and went to West Point. Graduated top of my class.”

“But you told me you went to my High School. You knew everything about that place.”

“I went there for filler classes. A few things my parents couldn’t teach me at home. But I was never a full-time student there.”

I stare at him, shocked. “You never told me this before.”

“You never asked.”

He drives in silence.

“Stevie died,” I tell him.

Adam stares straight ahead as he drives. “How’d Lina take it?”

“Broke her heart.” I swallow hard remembering that night and the days after, how hard it was for all of us. “Stevie was her best friend.”

“How’d you take it?” he asks.

“Hard.” I blink back a tear at the memories of our beloved family dog. “We buried her next to your grave. Yours and Morris’s. Had a ceremony one day. Lina and Astrid picked wild flowers and laid them all out.”

“I’m sorry I died,” he whispers so low I can barely hear it.

“You’re not dead anymore.”

“There’s still time,” he tells me. “There’s still time for me to die today.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because in a few hours I’m sure I’m going to come face-to-face with Ian. And since Crane has already had his shot at killing me I’m expecting Ian’s next.”

“He’s not going to try and kill you.”

“Sure about that?”

“He’s not a violent person. He forgave me.”

“Some men become violent when their family is threatened.”

“He has no reason to be violent. You’re bringing me home. You’re not threatening anyone.”

“So you think I’ll stay alive then?” He sounds almost disappointed.

“Yes, I think you’ll stay alive. But I will still hate you. Remember that. My dislike for you will keep you alive today.”

That shuts him up. There’s no more speaking. No more banter. No more stories or filling in on lost time. Instead, Adam drives, his jaw locked in irritation. I turn my back to him and watch the wind blow the trees. Leaves that have barely turned, still mostly green, litter the ground and blow across the road. There’s a storm coming.

chapter twenty-two

We pass only two other vehicles; a dusty red sedan pulled over on the side of the road and another truck, loaded down with men sitting along the edge of the truck-bed. I tense, expecting them to turn around and follow us.

“We’re fine,” Adam says as though he’s sensing my apprehension to the truckload of men passing us.

“Will they come after us?” I ask.

“Nope.” He grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “They looked like they were headed home for the night.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

“They looked tired.”

I wait, half expecting to see the truck spin around and come speeding after us. After all, they are Survivors. But it never happens. Instead, Adam continues driving for hours along the winding country roads. It’s not long before the scenery starts looking familiar. Even on the back roads I recognize the forests of New York. The roadsides are thick with evergreens and inter-dispersed with maple and oak trees. I can even feel it in my body. I am almost home.

Adam continues north. The wind howling around the truck, the branches of the trees shaking as we pass, and just as the last of the evening sun begins to dip behind the tree-line, I feel the truck take a steep incline. Adam doesn’t need to tell me where we are. I know. We are passing the city. I remember this drive, from when I used to commute back and forth from work. I know once the hill crests, if we drive at a steady sixty-five miles an hour I will be home in forty-five minutes. The anticipation tingles throughout my body, and then, Adam takes a sharp right turn in the wrong direction.

“What are you doing?” My voice sounds louder than it should, filling the truck cabin. “You’re going in the wrong direction.”

He taps a finger on the gas gauge. “Too close to empty. I have to get some gas.”

I look out all of the windows and behind us. “Where? There’s nothing here.”

“There’s a small settlement up here.”

“How do you know?”

“Just trust me.”

I might trust him, a little, I just don’t trust the weather. Looking to the early darkening sky, thick gray clouds roll over, dousing out the last of the evening light. The wind blows harder.

Adam takes another right, then a left. As he slows, I focus on the road ahead of us. It’s barricaded with cars parked perpendicular across the road. Then, I see movement. People with guns. Survivors.

“Adam!” I twist in my seat, uneasy. “What are you doing? They have guns!”

“I can see that.” His voice has no concern.

“Then why are you continuing on? Stop and turn around.”

“I asked you to trust me, Andie.”

“But they have guns.”

“It’s okay. Just settle down.” He stops the truck and reaches for the door handle. Two of the people at the barricade walk towards us, a man and a woman, weapons drawn. “Stay in the truck,” Adam orders.

Adam gets out and walks towards the two people, palms up, speaking. I can’t hear what he says, but whatever he tells them, they lower their guns, nod, look at me and then turn and motion for the others to open the barricade.

The wind whips at Adam’s jacket and his hair. As he opens the door to the truck a cold wind blows in.

“What was that all about?” I ask.

“Not all the Survivors are terrible people. They have gas for us.”

“Are you sure?” I eye them as Adam drives past the barricade.

“Yeah.”

Adam drives down a road lined with small houses, trailers, campers and tents.

“What is this place?”

Adam shrugs. “Just a community. People who protect each other, get along for the greater good.”

“But it’s so close to Phoenix. How did they not find us? How did Crane not find them?”

Adam parks the truck next to a convenience store. “What makes you think one doesn’t know about the other?” He reaches for the door handle. “You’re coming with me. Get out of the truck and don’t leave my side.” He gets out, pushes the driver’s seat forward and pulls out a black bag.

“What’s that?”

“None of your business. Let’s go.” He closes the door and heads around to the passenger side. Getting out, the cold wind blows through my sweatshirt and I immediately wish I had something warmer to wear. “Come on,” Adam says as I close the door.

I follow him as he heads towards the convenience store. As Adam reaches for the door, I notice a sign taped at eye level. It says, Buy, Barter, Trade.

A man and a woman stand behind the counter, both looking middle aged and unafraid of us. The man tips his head.

“Hello, Steven.” Adam walks to the counter at a quick pace and holds his hand out to shake.

“Sir,” the man named Steven replies. The woman at the counter looks between the men, before focusing on me. “What can I do for you?”

“Need a few gallons of gas. Then we’ll be on our way.”

“Barter or trade?” Steven asks.

“Trade.” Adam holds up the bag in his hand. “You have a private place to talk?”

Steven points at a door in the rear of the store. “We can go back there. Betsy can run the place while we talk.”

Steven walks around the counter, motioning for Adam to follow.

“Stay right here,” he whispers to me as he passes, following Steven towards the door.

I nod, watch them as the door closes, then wander around the store. There are a few pre-packaged snacks, medical supplies, gallons of bleach, a few jugs of water, tools, rope, empty containers. Walking towards the cashier counter, I notice the most valuable things are kept there. Batteries, cigarettes, bullets and guns for sale.

I reach forward to pick up a package of lip balm that’s hanging next to the counter. The cashier, Betsy, watches and I notice she’s focused on the strap tied across my wrist, covering up my Sovereign mark. I pull my hand back and retract it into my sleeve.

“Want to trade?” Betsy asks. “For the lip balm?”

I lick my lips and back up. “No.”

“You want it.”

“No. I’m fine. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen stuff like that.”

“You sure you don’t want it?” Her eyes narrow on me, specifically the arm I’ve drawn up into my sleeve. “You look like you want it.”

“No. Really. Besides, I have no way to pay for it. I was just looking.” My eyes flick towards the closed door where Adam went with the man.

Betsy rounds the counter. “Sometimes we take payment in the form of information.” She takes a few steps towards me. I head for the door, but she moves fast, running around me and blocking me from reaching the door. “I get the feeling you know a lot of important information.”

“No.” I take a few steps back. “I don’t know anything.”

“You sure, Hon?” She crosses her arms. “Why you got that tie around your wrist? That man in there hurt you or something?”

I take a few steps back, wondering if I might be able to circle around the store and get away from her. “No,” I respond.

“Not at all? Big, scary looking guy like that didn’t harm one hair on your pretty little head?” She looks me up and down. “You’re a little young for him, aren’t you? What are you, like, eighteen or something? Not right, a grown man like that dragging you around. I’ve seen a lot of that lately.”

Eighteen, what a compliment. I shake my head. “No. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“You sure now?” She presses on.

“Yes.” I raise my voice to a near shout. “Adam would NEVER HURT ME.”

Betsy tips her head and narrows her eyes at me. “Adam-”

Before she can finish, the door whips open and Adam is standing in the doorway. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

Betsy moves to her place behind the register, focusing on something under the counter.

“Uh… nothing,” I finally respond.

Adam looks around the store before turning to Steven.

“It’s a deal,” Steven says from inside the room. “Let’s get your gas.”

Adam moves and through the open door I can see three handguns and a box of bullets on the table. Adam avoids my eyes for the remainder of the time we are there; while we walk through the store to the garage behind the building where he drives the truck and Steven pours ten gallons of gasoline into the truck’s gas tank.

It’s when the men at the barricade let us through and we are finally driving down the highway in the dark that I finally ask him, “Where did the guns come from, Adam?”

“Don’t worry about it.” His jaw twitches when he closes his mouth.

“Why?”

“Just don’t.”

He accelerates into the darkness and before he can turn north, a heavy rain starts pelting the windshield. Adam turns on the windshield wipers and the heat. It’s not long before the rain thickens and turns into a pelting hail storm. I grip the door, barely able to see the sides of the road. The cabin cools further until Adam has the heat on its highest setting. Then, it starts snowing, so bad that the road is covered and Adam can’t drive any further.

I want to ask Adam about the guns, I want answers from him. But this is the kind of storm you don’t argue in, not with the driver. When Adam slows the truck to a crawl, disappointment hits me in the bottom of the gut like a lead ball. We are so close to home.

“It’s too dangerous to drive any further than this,” Adam tells me as he stops the truck and puts it in park. Leaving the engine running, he presses his fingers to the heat vents. “We’ll just have to wait it out.”

“I don’t want to wait it out,” I tell him. “This could last for hours or days.”

He shakes his head. “Every storm ends in time, Andie.”

“Unless it turns to snow, Adam. Unless it’s snowing and summer is almost here.”

Adam looks out the window at the large snowflakes settling all around us.

“The the weather is so unpredictable. This is probably going to ruin our crops,” I point out.

“Thought the Entities reformed everything to stop this sort of thing from happening.”

“They did. But then Norman Eckstein seeded the ocean with iron, and there was a massive population die-off. The atmosphere must have overcorrected or something. I’m not sure. You could ask the brains in Hanford, I’m sure they have a meteorologist there. Weather patterns are not my specialty.” My breath fogs the window as I look out the passenger side. I reach up and wipe it away. “I can’t believe we are so close.”

“You can walk the rest of the way.”

“I would like to.” Actually, I think I’d like to run the rest of the way.

“Well, we can wait until morning. I think that’s the best thing to do.”

I stare longingly out the window into the night. The wind blows stronger, snow and ice pelts the truck. I jump as a flash of lightning brightens the night sky.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” I mumble, turning back to Adam. He’s looking at me, strangely. “What?” I ask.

“What if…” he starts, his face taking on some expression I am not familiar with. He sighs, closes his eyes and then looks at me again with his striking blue eyes. “What if I never see you like this again?” he asks.

“Like what? Waiting to go home?” I unclip my seatbelt and pull my legs up to my chest.

“No. All trusting and eager and, just a tiny bit, still… innocent.”

I laugh a little. “I think you have me confused with someone else,” I tell him flatly.

“I don’t.” The strange expression continues.

“I’m sure you do. Because right now I may be trusting you for five minutes while you bring me home, but I hate you. Remember that, Adam. I may have really enjoyed your company at one point, but now I hate you now. You lied, you died, you lied some more. You will never see me like this again because you will never see me again. Ever.”

“Yeah. I was hoping that would make this easier.” He turns to look out his window as another crack of thunder erupts, followed by another flash of lightening. At that instant he looks back to me and my stomach growls loudly, at what seems to be the most inappropriate time; it seems Adam has something to tell me.

“You hungry? I have some rations here.” He reaches behind his seat and pulls out a bag. He takes out two aluminum bottles and a container filled with what looks like dried meat.

“What’s that?” I ask him.

“Deer jerky.” He hands me one of the bottles. “Water.” He motions to the shiny bottle. I take a piece of jerky from the container and bite into it. At first, the flavor is mild, not too dry, and then the salt hits me. I set the jerky on my lap and swallow, my mouth puckered. Hurriedly opening the bottle of water, I catch a glimpse of Adam watching me from across the seat. I drink, washing the strong taste of salt out of my mouth. When my mouth has been thoroughly rinsed I catch the hint of an aftertaste in the water. Looking at the metal container I wonder if it’s from the aluminum and wherever the water came from. I look up to find Adam staring at me, a frown on his face.

“What?” I ask, feeling my tongue slur a bit, and I wonder if it’s from the strong salt.

“I’m sorry,” he tells me, putting his water back into the bag along with his portion of the jerky.

“That was really salty,” I tell him as I take another long pull from the bottle. This time when I stop drinking, I recognize the aftertaste. It’s sweet, just like someone added a little sugar, just like what I tasted in the water the Survivors gave me.

Oh no.

“You asshole!” I yell at Adam as I throw the bottle it at him. He catches it with a magnificent finesse, as though I merely tossed it to him and didn’t chuck it with all the energy left in my body.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“I trusted you!”

“I know.”

“What was in there?”

“Just something to help you sleep.” He reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“Don’ touch meh,” I slur at him and wave my hand, missing his arm by a mile. He smiles. This time, though, it’s not his mischievous smile that I once loved. It’s sad. “Who ‘r you?” I ask.

He clears his throat. “My real name is Christian Whitmarsh.”

chapter twenty-three

Christian, the one who is running the East Coast, the one who wants Crane, and the one using me to get him. I should have known something was odd when we were not interrupted, not even once, on our drive here, even though we passed a truck of men. They must’ve known who he was as they looked at us through the windshield.

I raise my hand to point at him but my finger barely stretches out from a relaxed curve. Whatever he gave me is hitting me hard. “Lied, again.”

“I may have lied about a few things but never about how I felt about you.”

“Why?” I ask, feeling a sudden surge of coherence. “Why’d you do this now?”

“I have family, too.”

“No you don’t. They died. I’ve already seen the Whitmarsh grave. I figured that much out.”

“All except for one person. I have a sister. And like you’ve protected your family, I have to protect mine.”

“Where?”

“In Phoenix.”

“Who?”

“Blithe.”

I reach for the door handle and hear it click as Adam locks the door from his side of the truck. “You should get some rest,” he suggests.

“I hate you for this,” I remind him as my eyes seem to close on their own.

The last thing I hear is Adam, or Christian, let out a heavy sigh as he responds, “Me too.”

--

There are people talking. The murmuring of male voices. I can smell something familiar. It’s sweet and musky, makes my stomach churn. My eyes flutter open, still feeling heavy from whatever Adam gave me to help me sleep. Someone is close to me, too close.

“She’s awake,” I hear Adam’s irritated voice.

“Ah, Andromeda.” The body turns towards me and as I lift my head, I see it is none other than Burton Crane sitting terribly too close to me. I throw myself back, feeling the cold glass of the truck window on the back of my head. Looking between Adam and Crane, I wonder if perhaps I am still dreaming.

“Why?” I ask. It’s the only word I can seem to get out.

“Because you needed to deal with Adam’s death. Your relationship with him was a loose string. I let you flutter about for two years. It had to end.”

“He’s not dead.”

“Oh, but he is,” Crane replies as Adam simply watches from the seat next to him. “He is dead to you now. After this betrayal. That string is cut. Now you can move on from him. He is no longer a distraction.”

“Is this another one of your lessons?”

“In a sense. You need to be of sound mind.”

“My initiation is done. I completed all of your tasks in each of the Districts.”

“No, it’s not. You need to be of sound mind.” Crane reaches forward with one speckled finger and taps me on the top of the head. “You are too soft. You contemplate too much. You need to be able to react quickly. You can’t have things like love and family swaying your choices. They will get in the way of your judgment.”

“I sort genes. That’s all Crane.”

“Yes, a very important task in this time. But you will do much more.”

“What are you saying?”

“I might die soon.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid your friend here is going to kill me.”

“He is no longer my friend. And how does that affect me? You’ve been trying to kill me for years.”

“I was merely adding to your strengths. It is a great possibility that there is a war coming between the Phoenix District and the Survivors now that Adam, or Christian as you now know him, has control of them. There are things within those walls that he desires very much and I need to be certain that you can defend us and what we’ve created.”

“If I don’t want to?”

“Oh, my dear Andromeda, tell me you don’t want to keep your children safe from harm. I’ll have a very hard time believing you.”

My gaze flicks to Adam, who is simply staring at me, his eyes dark and angry.

“You have your hand in every single candy dish, don’t you?” I ask Crane.

“I have to. I have plans for this new world.”

“What about the other Funding Entities? Are they involved?”

“No,” he gives a slight laugh. “I am done with the Funding Entities. It’s time for the Founding Entities to take charge.”

“And where do I come in?”

“Oh, Andromeda,” he says with laughter on his tongue. “That’s simple, you choose to protect me or your family.”

“I will never choose you. You know this. I will only protect my family.”

He smiles. “That’s what I was hoping to hear. Now close your eyes and go back to sleep.”

And even though I hate him and I never follow his orders, my body feels overwhelmed with fatigue. I close my eyes and find myself thrust into darkness.

--

I wake, stiff and sore and cold. There is a thin layer of snow covering the windshield of the truck. The sun seems to be just rising. I exhale and a fog of my breath floats in front of me. Focusing, I sit up straight. I am alone. There is no Adam, no Crane, just me and a parka lying in the seat where Adam sat last night.

That’s thoughtful.

I look around and orient myself. The truck is parked in the middle of the road on the main highway that leads straight into Phoenix. I know if I follow this I will run into the electrified fence that cuts across the highway, and then it’s another fifteen miles until I get to town.

I get out of the truck, my sneakers squishing into the thin layer of watery snow that covers the road. There are no other footprints or tire tracks. I begin to wonder if Adam and Crane were even in the truck with me last night or if it was a dream. Feeling the cool morning air, I take the parka, push my arms into it, then walk.

Perhaps this should be a walk of shame, or one of stupidity and regret. But instead it’s a walk of fury. Each step brings forth a memory and a sharp realization that I have trusted the wrong people-the wrong person. And Chuck was correct not so long ago when he turned to me and told me that I was stupid.

Seeing the chain-link fence in front of me, I pick up my pace to a near jog. I can hear its strange buzzing, even from the few hundred yards away that I am.

I can see one of the Volker standing stiff, watching me. His hand moves towards his pistol. I walk faster. He pulls the pistol from its holster and aims it at me.

“Stop,” I hear him yell at me.

I move faster. “I am Andromeda Somers!” I shout to him. “Phoenix District Sovereign.”

“Stop!” he yells at me.

But I walk closer to the fence. The buzzing gets louder. Too loud. It makes my head hurt and I feel something trickle from my nose. I reach up to wipe it away, finding a bit of blood.

“Back up,” the Volker yells to me.

“Let me in!” I yell to him. “I am Andromeda-”

“Back away from the fence,” he yells with urgency in his voice. I do and feel the buzzing sensation lessen in my head. “Show me your wrist,” he yells across the fence.

Without thinking I pull up my sleeve and thrust my arm into the air for him. He makes a face and looking up I see that the cloth is still wrapped over the mark. I pull on the cloth, and show the Volker the mark that Dr. Akiyama burned into my skin. “I am Andromeda-”

“I know who you are!” He shouts as he re-holsters his weapon. “Stay there.” He holds his hand out, signaling for me to stay where I am. Reaching for the radio on his shoulder, he speaks into it. When he is done, he turns back towards me. “I’m sorry about this, Mrs. Somers, have to shut down the fence to let you in here.” He points at the gate in the fence and I notice that there is no keypad like at the other entrances to the District. “No way to stop it at this entrance.” I nod at him. “It will be just a few minutes, stay there.”

I stay where I am, pacing, the sneakers leaving imprints on the snowy road. I pace and I wait. More Volker collect at the gate. They talk into their radios. They watch me and the road behind me. It feels strange being stuck on this side of the gate, wanting to be let in so badly.

After a few minutes I hear the fence begin to power down, the buzzing lessens. “About ten more minutes!” The Volker yells to me. I nod and continue my pacing. I stop and turn to the forest, hearing the heavy plops of the night snow falling off of the trees as the sun warms the air. I guess that by afternoon all of the snow will have melted. I hear the buzzing of the fence lessen again and then completely dissipate.

I walk towards the fence. The Volker shakes his head. “What?” I ask impatiently.

One of the other Volker speaks into his radio. “Someone has to bring the key.” He points at the lock on the gate.

The radio on his shoulder squawks to life. “Ten minutes out,” a voice says.

I continue my pacing, this time closer to the fence since I don’t have to fear its nose bleeding buzzing. Soon enough the Volker turn as an SUV speeds down the road towards us. The vehicle makes a hard stop, the tires skidding. People barrel out of the SUV, running towards the gate. I recognize Elvis, Sam, Alexander, and Ian.

“Andie!” I hear Sam’s voice.

“Sam told us what happened,” Elvis tells me as he pulls a ring of keys from his pocket and reaches for the now harmless fence. “How did you get free?”

“It’s a long story,” I tell him, looking at Ian. His face is a mixture of hope and worry. And I know that the entire time I was gone, he relived his worst fears.

Finally Elvis gets the gate unlocked and swings it open. I rush past them and throw my arms around Ian. Squeezing me to himself, he grips me so hard I can barely breathe. “I thought I lost you,” he whispers into my ear. I pull back and look into his brown eyes, gleaming with the threat of tears. I’ve never seen Ian cry. I press my lips to his. After a few moments I hear Elvis clear his throat loudly from behind us. I pull away from Ian and step back as his arms loosen from around me.

“What happened out there?” Elvis asks.

“The Survivors had me,” I start to tell him. “And-”

“Come here, boy,” I hear Sam’s voice. I look behind Elvis and see Sam standing at the gate I just ran through. “Come here,” he repeats. I move to the side to see who Sam is talking to. There is a Guardian outside the gates, standing in the road where I just was.

“Crane is gone,” Ian tells me.

“I know. Did you make the deal with the Survivors?” I ask.

Ian looks at Elvis. Elvis shakes his head. “We heard nothing from the Survivors. Crane wouldn’t allow a search and rescue team to find you. We confronted him during a Committee meeting, forced him out.”

“You just tossed him out into the wilderness?” I ask.

“We aren’t assassins,” Ian tells me. “What did you want us to do, kill him?”

“You could have imprisoned him or shot him in the head,” I say.

Sam gives up on coaxing the Guardian back inside the gates, and taking note of our conversation he walks towards us, “We weren’t going to kill him in cold blood,” he says.

“Why not?” I ask. “He would have done it to any one of us.”

“We’ll let the Survivors take care of him. They’re ruthless enough.”

We all turn towards the road as the Guardian barks.

“Adam is still alive,” I tell them.

“What?” All three of them respond in unison.

“Adam is alive, he’s… his real name is Christian and he’s leading the Survivors. He brought me here. Last night and…” I touch my head remembering the strange conversation with Crane in the truck. “He had Crane with him and then they were gone this morning.”

Ian grabs my arm. “What did they do to you?” he asks.

The Guardian barks again. I turn, my memory feeling a bit foggy as I try and piece everything together.

“Why is that Guardian outside the fence?” I ask.

“Don’t know,” Sam shrugs off my question.

“What did they do to you?” Ian urges.

“I’m not sure…” I look at Elvis, Sam and then back to the Guardian. “Where are the children? Where’s Lina and Raven?”

“They’re at home,” Ian tells me.

“With who? Why didn’t you bring them?”

“We didn’t think it was good for them to see you like this. Or if there was a problem we didn’t want them stuck in the middle of it,” Sam says.

“Who are they with?” I ask again.

“Blithe. Who else would we leave them with?” Ian tells me.

A moment of panic flashes through me. “We have to go. Now!” I start towards the SUV.

“Why?” Ian grabs my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Blithe is Adam’s sister. Adam, who is really Christian, who is leading the Survivors. Who was with Crane last night-” I pause, focusing on the quiet fence. “How long has the fence been off for?”

“Maybe thirty minutes,” Sam says.

From the look on Elvis’s face I can tell he understands what just clicked together in my head. “Lock it up,” Elvis instructs the Volker as he starts running towards the vehicle. He pulls a radio off of the dash and shouts something into it. Almost immediately the fence starts to hum. Everyone backs up.

I continue my run to the SUV. Elvis grabs my shoulder to stop me. “I’ll drive.” He opens the passenger door for me.

Sam, Alexander, and Ian get in on the other side as I buckle my seatbelt.

The ride is fast and tense.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Ian says with a nervous tone.

“Tell me you knew nothing of this, Elvis?” I ask as he drives.

“I swear.” He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “I didn’t know. I would have never allowed this, Andie.”

“Alexander?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

Elvis speeds through the streets, careens through the country roads that lead to the Pasture. Sam jumps out to open the gate. Elvis speeds through the opening, leaving Sam to run behind us. He skids to a stop near the barn. There is a collection of Guardians standing in the courtyard.

Leaping out of the SUV, I run for the schoolhouse, my sneakers sliding on the snowy grass. The door is open. The desks empty. The coatrack clear of child-sized jackets.

“NO!” I scream at the empty schoolhouse, my insides filling with a gut-wrenching horrible feeling. I’ve felt this before, except now it’s twofold.

chapter twenty-four

“Why didn’t the Guardians stop them?” Sam asks as I leave the main room of the school house and step out onto the porch.

“Because they weren’t harming the children, just moving them. The Guardians protect all of us. Crane, Adam, and Blithe included,” I tell him.

“I can’t believe this,” Sam replies.

“Did any of the weapons make it back with you?” I ask Sam.

He shakes his head. “The only thing I brought back was Tim, and he’s not happy. Set him up in one of the Volker housing units until we figure out what to do with him.”

“I have to find my children.” I look around the courtyard, contemplating a plan. “You, Alexander, and Elvis need to stay here. You need to protect the Residents.”

“What about you?” he argues.

“I’m leaving.”

“I’m going with you,” Ian says with a curt tone.

I glance at him. Judging by how he looks right now I know that there is no arguing with him. He’s blaming himself for the children missing. I correct myself; they’re not missing, they’ve been kidnapped.

Suddenly everyone is moving. Sam runs off to the barn with Elvis and Alexander. Ian follows me to the house. I strip off the borrowed sweats as I walk through the house, for once not caring that Ian is following me. I search my room for warm clothes. Clothes that I think might be useful in this journey that I am about to go on. Heavy jeans, layered shirts. I find an old pair of boots in the closet. Next to the boots sits a backpack. I take it, throw in a fleece blanket and head for the kitchen. I take a loaf of bread from the freezer and fill two water bottles. Then I head for the front door with Ian on my heels, picking up the parka I discarded on the floor when I walked in the door. He holds it out for me.

“Are you going to change?” I ask him as I slip my arms into the parka and zip it.

He’s already wearing boots, jeans and a thick sweater. “I just need my coat.” He reaches for the peg that his winter coat is hanging on.

I press my hand to his arm. “I don’t blame you. I want you to know that.”

He nods, removing the coat from the peg and putting it on.

Slipping my arms into the backpack, I run down the porch steps, headed for the courtyard. We meet the others at the barn.

“What are you taking?” Elvis asks. “The train?”

“Won’t they be expecting the train?” I ask. “It wasn’t hard for them to sabotage our route before.”

“Where do you think he took them?” Sam asks.

“They had me in this small town called Romney, West Virginia. And Adam, or Christian, told them that he would be back there with Crane. But that was before I knew who he really is.”

“That’s two states away, we can’t walk that far. I doubt they did,” Ian speaks up.

“There’s the truck Adam left on the highway last night,” I tell them. “It has less than ten gallons of gas in the tank.”

“You could take one of the Volker SUVs,” Elvis suggests.

“Until we run out of gas. And then what?” I ask. “How do we make it home with a group of children and adults?”

“If Blithe even wants to come back,” Sam whispers.

“What’s that?” Elvis asks.

Sam shakes his head. “I can leave later with the train. Pick everyone up and bring them back.” Sam suggests.

“How would we know when they’re ready?” Elvis asks.

“We have a cell phone. One that Andie had before. She can call us,” Sam says.

Thank God for the last cell phone on earth.

“We have to call Crystal River,” I suggest. “They have satellites. Remember, Sam? They can search the roads leading away from here and see what type of vehicle they are traveling in and let us know.”

“I’ll get ahold of them,” Alexander offers. “Actually, if it’s all right with you, I think I’ll go now so I can get them looking before you leave.”

“I think that’s good,” I tell Alexander.

“Good luck,” he tells us as he rushes out of the barn.

Elvis opens the gun case. He removes a handgun and gives it to Ian. He hesitates before handing one to me.

“Give it to me, Elvis.”

“Just don’t want you to lose your head, Andie. I know how Crane likes to push your buttons.”

“Yeah.” I reach for the weapon and pull it from his hand. “This won’t be the first time I’ve pointed a gun at his head.”

“Make sure you’re pointing it at the right person,” he suggests.

“She’s not going to kill anyone,” Sam says as he loads bullets into extra magazines. “She’s just going to get the children. Andie would never actually shoot someone.”

I look at Elvis. He knows what I did in Wolf Creek. I killed that imposter. I wonder if I could do it again. If Crane were standing in front of me, or Adam, could I pull that trigger again? I take the gun from Elvis and put it in my bag, along with the spare magazines from Sam.

“Here,” Sam holds out his hand. In it is the cell phone I left on the train. “It’s been charging since I found it. Full battery. I have the number so we can contact you.”

I shove the phone in my pocket. “Ready?” I ask Ian.

He nods.

We walk towards the SUVs. “Take the first one,” Sam tells us. “It has a double tank and I just filled it.”

Ian walks towards the driver’s seat. I pause before opening the door, feeling the cold stare from the collection of Guardians waiting in the courtyard. I whistle for them.

“What are you doing?” Ian asks me.

“I think they should come with us. Some of them at least.”

“Andie, those things are huge, we could only fit three of them in here if we are lucky.”

I open the back hatch of the SUV and motion to the group of dogs. Three jump in. A fourth paces as though it’s looking for room to fit. “You’re going to have to run,” I tell it, remembering how they ran after the Jeep in Hanford.

I get in the passenger side as Ian starts the vehicle.

--

We wait at the fence, the one I just walked through a few hours ago, the day still damp from the night’s snow and cold. Elvis radios the nuclear plant to have the electricity diverted. Ian and I both pace as we wait for the loud purring of the fence to dissipate. When it finally does, Elvis moves to unlock the gate, pulling it open far enough for the SUV to fit through.

“I’m glad to see you’re not going alone.” Sam motions behind the SUV where a collection of Guardians waits.

“What are they going to do?” Ian asks.

“They’ll follow us. Keep us safe,” I tell him.

Elvis hollers for us to pass.

“Andie,” Sam stops me. “Bring them back.”

“I will,” I tell him as I stand on my toes to hug him tightly. “I’ll bring Blithe too, if she wants.” I feel him nodding. “You two already had something, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I wasn’t expecting this from her.”

“She may not have known, Sam. If she went, it was for the children. You have to know that about her.”

“Andie?” Ian urges. “Let’s go.”

“You better go see what Alexander found out. Talk you soon, Sam.” I leave him standing on the side of the road and get in the SUV with Ian.

Ian starts the vehicle. “Take the back roads,” I tell him. “Stay off of the main highways.”

“Okay,” he replies, looking in the rearview mirror. I turn around to see the collection of Guardians running after us.

--

“Why the hell is it snowing?” Ian asks, flipping on the windshield wipers. “It’s supposed to be summer.”

“Sam says there’s a bad storm coming in from the west. Emanuel can see it on the satellite images.”

“Great,” Ian exclaims as he slows the vehicle.

“Andie?” Sam asks into the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Emanuel says they are a few hours ahead of you. He can see a large vehicle, like a van. They are headed straight for Romney. But that storm is headed straight for you.”

“Wonderful,” I tell him.

“If you can get into Southern Pennsylvania you’ll miss the worst of it. He says West Virginia looks to be in the clear.”

“Okay,” I tell Sam. “I’m getting off the phone. Call me if there are any changes.” I end the call. “One good thing about the snow is it will keep the Survivors inside,” I tell Ian. “At least we won’t have to worry about trouble from them.”

“This couldn’t be falling on a worse day.”

“Sam says that if we make it to Southern Pennsylvania we’ll miss the worst of it.”

“If we have that much gas.”

I lean over and look at the gauges. “Sam said this thing has a double tank. That’s all we used to get here. Two tanks and Adam stopped the truck just a short walk from the gates.”

I wait for Ian to ask me about what happened, but he doesn’t.

“They have to know we’re following them.” Ian shakes his head and sighs.

“I’m sure that’s what Crane wants.”

“I don’t understand why he would take the children.”

“Because Crane wants me to go get him. Adam wants to kill him. And Crane knows that I had no intention of saving him. So he took my children.”

“Our children,” Ian corrects me.

“Our children,” I repeat. I don’t argue that Raven is actually Adam’s child, but I guess he’s not much of a parent. Raven has known Ian his entire life. “I’m guessing Adam wanted to get Blithe away from Crane but she wouldn’t leave the boys.”

“Still,” Ian scratches his chin. “There has to be something else.”

“I’m sure you’re right. There’s always something else. We’ll just have to wait until we get there to find out what it is.”

--

By mid-afternoon it starts to snow. Ian drives. It’s a white-knuckled-speeding-through-the-snow drive, the kind that we are used to in the north. Ian drives and drives, until the day passes and the snow lessens. We both watch anxiously as the gas tank gauge moves closer and closer to empty.

When I am sure it is the middle of the night, and there is nothing more than a thin coating of snow on the ground, the SUV sputters to a stop. With an expletive, Ian turns the wheel to ease the vehicle onto the side of the road before putting it in park and turning it off.

Moments later the cell phone rings.

“Andie?” Sam’s voice asks.

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Emanuel just called and said your truck stopped.”

“We’re out of gas,” I tell him.

“It seems Crane and Adam brought the children to an old school. It’s in that town you mentioned. Romney. You’re about ten miles away.”

“It’s still snowing here.”

“The snow should stop overnight. But Emanuel says it’s going to get really cold.”

I look at the windshield, noticing the tiny spiderwebs of ice forming as he speaks. “So we should wait until morning?”

“Yeah,” Sam replies. “We’ll watch from the satellites and let you know if anything changes.”

“Okay,” I tell him before hanging up. “Thanks, Sam.”

Ian looks at me expectantly. I fill him in on everything Sam just told me.

Ian turns to look out his window. “I don’t see the other Guardians. Do you think they made it?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I hope they did.” I turn looking at the ones that are sleeping in the cargo area of our SUV. “We should get some sleep,” I suggest.

I reach for my bag and pull out the bread and water. We eat in silence, only a small meal in case we need to make it last. It’s not long before the heat of the vehicle dissipates and we can see our breath. I shiver, wishing I had put an extra layer of clothes on.

Ian moves towards me. “It’s getting colder. I was hoping the heat would last a little longer in here,” he says as he pulls me towards him. “At least we can keep each other warm.”

I pull the fleece blanket out of my bag and lay it over us as we huddle together.

Ian sighs.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I just can’t believe I let this happen again.”

“Stop it,” I tell him as I tuck my head under his chin, trying to quell my own worry for my children. “You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the problem, Andie. It’s happening all over again. Crane takes our child and then you.”

“Shush,” I tell him. “We’ll get the children and I’m not going anywhere.”

I feel a shudder run through him. “I hope they’re warm.”

“I’m sure they are. The building they held me in had electricity and water.”

“What did they do with you?” Ian asks.

I tell him every single detail, except the part where Adam tricked me into kissing him.

“This isn’t working,” Ian tells me when I’m done.

“What?”

“I’m freezing.”

I feel him shudder again. “Maybe you shouldn’t have lost so much weight,” I tell him as I pinch his stomach. I turn around, seeing the Guardians in the back. “The dogs look warm,” I tell him. “We could move in the back with them.

“Okay,” he agrees through his chattering teeth.

We climb over the seats and Ian adjusts the back bench seat so it’s lying down and we have one large cargo area. We lie between two of the dogs, with the third one laying at our feet. I look up at Ian, our noses almost touching. Feeling the heat radiating off of the large dogs, “We’ll be sweating by morning,” I tell him.

Ian smiles as he reaches out to wrap his arm around me and pull me closer. I lean into him and press my lips to his. “Thank you,” I tell him.

“For what?”

“For not giving up on us.”

“I couldn’t give up on you, not even if I tried,” he responds, his dark eyes penetrating mine.

--

I can’t say I slept much between the three dogs. But being curled up, with my back pressed tight against Ian’s chest and his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, kept me plenty warm.

The shrill ring of the cell phone causes us both to stir.

“Hello?” I answer.

Sam’s voice responds. “Andie, the storm’s over.” I look out the foggy window and see the morning light start to fill the sky. “You’ve got about ten miles to walk. We’ve been watching the area all night. There’s no movement in the forest, no patrols at all. It’s like they’re just sitting there, waiting for you to show up.”

“Of course.” I move to sit up. Ian sits and starts putting his boots on. “What’s it like out there?”

“Looks like a mild day. Most of the snow should melt by the afternoon and it should warm up. It’s a straight shot south if you follow the road you’re parked on. We will keep an eye in the sky and call if there’s a problem.”

“Okay, thanks, Sam.”

After ending the call I start pulling on my boots.

“Sam says the way there is quiet,” I tell Ian. “They’ll call if there’s a problem.”

Ian starts folding the fleece blanket. “Better get moving then.” He crawls through the SUV, gets out and releases the trunk hatch.

The three Guardians jump out, followed by me. I adjust the backpack on my back and look up and down the road. The road is damp, the shoulder coated with snow, and the air seems to get warmer by the minute.

Just before we head south, Ian catches movement in the forest. He reaches for me, pushing me behind the vehicle. I hear the rustling of footsteps. Ian exhales.

“Holy crap.”

“What?” I ask.

“There’s a ton of them.”

“A ton of what?”

Ian pulls on my sleeve until I am standing right next to him and points towards the forest. As my eyes focus on the shadowed woods, I make out the figures of more Guardians standing in the cover of the trees, as though they are waiting for us to make the first move.

“Wow,” I reply. “It’s like all of them followed us.”

We walk south, staying on the road. Since I haven’t heard from Sam, I check the phone. The battery is half-full and there’s four bars of service. I remind myself to ask Alexander or George who else is connected to the lone cell phone service.

We walk in silence for over an hour until Ian asks, “Why did Elvis give you that look, when Sam said that you weren’t going to actually shoot anyone?”

I skip a step. “What do you mean?”

“I watched Elvis give you this look, like he knows something Sam doesn’t.”

“I don’t think you want to know, Ian.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to know?”

I can feel him watching me as we walk. “I don’t want to make this any harder for you.”

“What?”

“Accepting me back into your life. The past two years have been hard enough. If anything else-”

“Just tell me, Andie.” I stop walking. Ian stops and turns towards me. “Andie,” he urges, “tell me.”

“Elvis gave me that look because… because I killed a man.”

Ian’s body stills and his jaw slackens.

“I warned you,” I say. “I warned you that this wouldn’t make it easier. I know you. I know your beliefs. This is why I never told you. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

He takes a step towards me. “Wh-”

I take two steps backwards, raising my hands to keep him away from me. “I warned you, Ian. I had to do things I’m not proud of. Plenty of things I’m not proud of. You know most of them.”

Ian grabs my wrist before I can take another step backwards and pulls me into him, hard, wrapping both of his arms around my back in a tight embrace.

“My beliefs have changed. As soon as the Reformation occurred, it all changed. I can’t hold those things against you. I won’t.”

“Ian-”

He presses his lips to mine, halting my words. “Now, what else are you keeping from me?” he asks when he breaks the kiss. “I’m not talking about the Entities, I’m talking about where you’ve been the past few weeks. What happened between you and Adam? I can tell there’s something else you’re keeping from me.”

He squeezes me tighter and an emotion, a fear, wells up from my chest. I don’t want to disappoint him, not again. I’m sure what I’m about to say could end us for good. But he wants to know, he’s demanding it and I only want truth between us.

“I kissed him.” I look away from Ian’s face. “They had me locked up for over a week, they drugged me, and he said the only way he could get me out was if I kissed him.”

“And,” Ian asks, his voice thick.

“I just did it, but it didn’t mean anything, you have to believe me, Ian. It was just a kiss. It was the only way I could get back to you.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

I finally look into his eyes. “No.”

He nods and releases me from his embrace. We resume our walk, the pack of Guardians following us softly, Ian’s relaxed demeanor now gone. He’s fuming and by the time we reach the rusted sign that says Welcome to Romney, I’m pretty sure he’s ready to burst. I nervously check the cell phone to make sure we have service and Sam can reach us if there’s a problem.

As we follow the road into town, it ends in a three-way stop and the school the Survivors kept me in is a few hundred yards to our left.

We run for the school.

A familiar figure is simply sitting on the front steps of the school. It’s Mack. He stands as we get closer.

“Thought you’d be here sooner,” he tells us.

“Where are my children?” I ask him, slowing to a stop.

He leans to the side, taking in the pack of Guardians which stand behind us. “That orange-haired guy,” Mack swirls his hand near the side of his head. “He wanted to speak with you first.” He points at me. “Said it was important.”

“The children,” Ian demands.

“They’re fine,” Mack says. “Wasn’t expecting a load of kids to show up, nor that pretty lady. Either way, they’re playing in the gym.” He thumbs towards the door. “You ready to talk to that Crane guy?”

“And Adam?” I ask.

“With Crane,” Mack says.

“I’m not leaving you with them,” Ian steps in front of me.

I press my hand to his back. He can do this. “I can handle Crane and Adam.” I slide the cell phone into his pocket. And lowering my voice, I whisper, “Get the children and if you need to, get them out of here.” I slide the backpack off and hand it to him. “There are train tracks not far from here. They walked me here in a few hours. Call Sam when you need to.”

Ian reaches behind himself and squeezes my hand, hard. I take that as an agreement. We walk up the steps, the Guardians following us.

“Leave those outside,” Mack tells us.

I glance at the large dogs. “They don’t take commands,” I tell him. “You keep them out if you don’t like them.”

Mack frowns before turning around and entering the school.

We walk into the familiar hallway of the school, the Guardians trailing behind us. The gymnasium is to the left. Ian’s head snaps in that direction at the sound of a basketball hitting the floor. There is giggling and laughter from the double doors.

“Go,” I tell Ian.

He walks towards the gymnasium as Mack stops in the middle of the long hallway. “They’re in here,” he tells me, pointing to the door labeled Principal’s Office.

“How appropriate,” I mumble to myself.

Mack knocks and pushes the door open. Crane and Adam are both there, positioned on opposite sides of the room. Crane sits in an office chair. Adam stands near the corner.

“I didn’t come for you,” I tell Crane as I enter the room. “I came for my children, not you. I don’t care what this liar does with your speckled carcass.” I point at Adam. “I’m not saving it.”

I walk over to Adam, not even breaking my stride and slap him across the face as hard as I can. “What the hell were you thinking?” I yell at him.

He turns back to me with a grimace. “Deserved that.”

“You’re right. You did!” I back up before I give in to the urge to hit him again. “And you’re lucky I didn’t let Ian in here. I’m sure if he sees you, he’ll kill you.” I turn back to Crane, who sits behind the principal’s desk apparently enjoying the display before him. “What are you doing, taking my children? Of all the bullshit you’ve pulled this has got to be the worst kind.”

“I had to make you come back here. And you already told me that you wouldn’t come for me, only your children.”

“Why haven’t you killed him yet?” I ask Adam.

He rubs the side of his reddened face. “Because you need to listen to what he has to say.”

“I don’t want to listen to him!” I glare at Crane. “I just want to go home. I just want peace from all of this. I did what he asked me. I did everything. He promised me peace. That is all I want.” I shake my head and swallow hard, trying to control the trembling in my voice. “It’s bad enough he planned the Reformation. He changed the world.”

“Is it so bad now?” Crane asks as he folds his hands together. “All humanity needed was a little tweak to set things right. Did you take a breath outside? There’s almost no pollution.”

“Yeah, and no one seems to know what season it is anymore,” I snap at him.

“It will settle out,” Crane tries to soothe my speculation. “There’s more wildlife. The forests are starting to regrow. What we did was right, Andromeda, the planet would not have survived if things kept going the way they were.”

“And what are you going to do when the population starts increasing again and when the Sovereign stray from their vows to protect the Residents and turn corrupt, just like it was before? Except this time you made me create those people, the Residents won’t care what they do, they will listen to the ones in charge, they will do whatever they are told.”

“That is exactly why I need you, Andromeda. I need you to help keep things on track.”

“I’ve done all I can for you. I just want peace now.”

“You can have your peace and you can have your children back, on one condition.”

“I don’t want to hear this.” I start for the door.

“It seems your friend here has agreed to help me,” he tips his head towards Adam.

Adam gives me a look. One that I’ve seen before, when I knew his face as simply Adam, the one that says there’s more to this story.

“He’s not my friend,” I inform Crane. “He’s nothing more than a liar.”

“Listen,” Adam says, his voice a baritone of reason.

I cross my arms. “What?”

“You agree,” Crane pauses to clear his throat as though he’s practiced this speech but now he is unable to find the words. “You agree, Andromeda Somers, to live forever.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Live forever.”

“Why would I want to live forever?”

“Everyone is afraid of death; everyone wants to avoid that fear. I’m offering you that chance. I need you.”

“That’s impossible,” I dismiss him, reaching for the door.

“Not anymore. I made it possible.” Crane taps his fingertips together in front of his chest. “A long time ago, I made it very possible.”

I drop my arm, the slightest bit intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Crane clears his throat. “A very long time ago I invested in a lot of research. Genetic research, robotics, you name it, we did it. And Nanobiotechnology was a major field. We created nanocytes, tiny little robots that can be injected into the human body and they repair all the damage associated with age, illness, and injury. The end result is that the biological specimen injected with the nanocytes gets to live forever.” Crane adjusts his tie as I digest this information.

“I don’t believe you,” I tell him.

“Hmm. You don’t?”

“No.”

“Ah yes, it must be the scientist in you. Would you like some proof? Some numbers and data to mull about in your brain. Here’s one: Did you ever wonder why the Guardians just keep multiplying? After all these years living outdoors, many of them should have died. I know how you work, Andromeda. You count things and I know you’ve counted them. I know you’ve noticed there are more. That is because they don’t die.”

“I still don’t believe you.”

“Well, we have time for you to see that I’m telling the truth.”

“No,” I take a step closer towards the door. “I’m not listening to this garbage.”

“Agree.” His voice gets louder, almost a warning. “This new world needs you, forever. There is no one else who can do what you do. No one else has the attachment to the Residents that you do. And the Residents trust you, the Sovereign trust you.”

“No,” I tell him again. I look at Adam. His face is placid as he stares at me. He believes this propaganda that Crane is spewing.

“You want your children freed? You want to go back to the serenity of the Pasture? Agree.”

For a moment I think if I agree it might just get us out of here. If I just agree to his lies, no matter how incomprehensible they seem. If I say yes, he’ll just let us go. “And my family?” I ask him.

“I am only offering this to you.” Crane stands from his seat.

“Definitely no,” I tell him, taking another step towards the door.

“You don’t worry about your fragility, Andromeda? Why Baillie almost crushed you a few years ago. I’m sure you recognized it then.”

“I don’t care, Crane. I’m not afraid to die. I realized that a long time ago. I thought I needed to be alive to protect my children from you, but now I have a lot more people on my side. People who will take care of them. I am not afraid to die trying to get them out of here. But I’m definitely not going to live forever without my family at my side.”

“It’s your decision. Immortality, everlasting life, or your family. They’ll move on without you. And you will get over their deaths when the time comes.”

“And if I kill you now? Then it won’t matter, then I can do whatever I want.”

“Sure, that would be one scenario. But the nanocytes are already waiting within your body. All I have to do is press a button to release them. You kill me, you get blessed with an immortal life.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Try me. They’ve been there since you returned from Crystal River and Morris died.”

Pushing up my sleeve, I rub my fingers over the small scar where Crane injected the tracking device in my forearm. “You’re not even giving me a choice.” I look to Adam, who remains standing still on the other side of the room. “I don’t want this,” I whisper. “I don’t want this,” I repeat louder looking at Crane and Adam to make sure they heard me.

“I know,” Crane replies. “But many others do. It’s a gift. One that I’ve only offered to a few. Those with strong principles, those who no longer fear their own death.”

“You don’t fit that description,” I tell him.

He laughs. “I did once. A long time ago. But that’s what watching the same cycle of contamination and corruption repeat itself over and over again will do to a person.”

“Then why are you doing this?” I ask.

“Because we are creating a new world. Instilling old morals that most have forgotten, and now this new world needs deities to guide them, deities to fear.”

I step closer towards the door. From the first Committee meeting I speculated that he was playing God, but this, to actually hear it from his mouth, floors me.

Crane continues his speech, “For hundreds of years humans speculated in a divinity, each arguing that their idea of God was correct. They prayed and worshipped and sacrificed, and guess what? Nothing happened. Because there were no gods, just stories. Humanity continued in their downward spiral of wickedness and corruption. We can give them what they’ve always prayed for. Real gods, real responses to their prayers.”

“So this is why everyone appeases you? This is why they all fear you and do what you say?”

He nods. “They just want a piece of the pie. They want this gift that I have offered you.”

“This is why Dr. Drake wanted to be on my team, because he knew, didn’t he?”

He nods, smiling.

“I can’t live without them,” I tell him.

“Imagine it. A life forever. You could have a thousand new families.”

I close my eyes, envisioning Lina and Raven growing into adulthood, finding their own pairs and having their own families. Standing beside them, I see Ian, his hair graying, his skin wrinkling, while I stay the same. I can see their children. My grandchildren. Ian’s grave. Lina’s grave. Raven’s grave. But there will never be a grave for me, not with this future. My static existence next to them seems so wrong. A heavy, hot tear slides down my cheek. I don’t wipe it away. I let them see it. I let them see what this will make me become. This will ruin me.

I open my eyes, pulling myself back from this heartbreaking future and ask, “Who else?”

“What do you mean?” Crane asks sweetly.

“Who else are you offering this option to?”

“Well, there’s you. Me, of course. I tested the nanocytes on myself and here I am, the epitome of health.”

“When?”

He smiles a sly smile. “When did I test them on myself? A long time ago. Long before you were born.”

“Who else then?” I demand.

“Sakima, George Crossbender, and a few other of the original Funding Entities are on my list if they fulfill my wishes, if they pass the right tests.” He stands and begins walking towards me.

“This is so wrong, Crane. You chose the most extreme members of the group. The absolute worst and best.”

“No.” he reaches forwards, grasping my hands, squeezing them. “It is so right. The earth will be forever taken care of. There will be no shifting of power, no alteration of laws, just the same few to watch over and keep everything right. They will keep a balance, a yin and a yang, opposites; they will balance it and keep it right.”

I try to pull my hands out of his grasp. “I don’t want this.”

“You made those people, Andromeda.” He lets go of my hands. “You made those Residents, you altered them genetically and now you need to watch over them. Nobody will watch over them better than you will.”

“Find someone else, Crane. There are plenty of brains in Hanford. You don’t need me for this.”

“Ah, but we do.”

I hear the loud laughter of the children down the hall as they play in the gymnasium.

“Why are we doing this here?” I ask Crane. “In the middle of nowhere West Virginia?”

“There are ears everywhere in the Districts. And if the other Entities knew that you have been given this gift, they would be very jealous of you. And now that this little Resistance has formed against me, you’ll see. You’ll see what those Entities will do for a chance to live forever. But they don’t know what I’ve just told you. They still fear their death. It is obvious that you do not.”

“You don’t think they’ll find out? With each year they’ll notice I’m not aging.”

“Don’t fret, Andromeda. I will ensure your safety.”

“What happens after?” I ask. “After you’ve done this to me, then what?”

“You go home. You live your long life and resume your duties. You watch over generations of Residents. You decide with the other Entities on changes.”

“I don’t want you in Phoenix.” I tell him.

“That’s fine. There are other places I can go. Although, Phoenix is my home town, the place where I grew up a long time ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m sure when you last visited the family grave you didn’t pay attention to the old, crumbled gravestone near the tree line?”

I think back to the day I was there with Raven, telling him stories about the relatives he will never know. He did, at one point, place his hand on an old gravestone outside of our family plot. That one strange stone with the name B. C. Bertrand.

“A grave would mean that someone is dead.”

“Or presumed dead,” he offers.

“That’s impossible, we are not related,” I tell him with disgust. “I would have seen it. I would have seen it in our data!”

“It’s not a blood relation.”

“Then what is it?”

I look at Adam, who shrugs and rubs the stubble on his chin.

“Let me tell you a story,” Crane smiles. “Once upon a time there was a young man, a very intelligent young man-”

“I don’t want to hear your life story,” I interrupt him.

“This is not a story of my life. So this young man was very intelligent, his name was Arthur. He graduated at the top of his class, attended Stanford University on a full scholarship and then moved on to Johns Hopkins University to pursue his post-doctoral work. This young man had a very promising future, working on the cutting edge of cancer research and all. You see, cancer research was a major topic in those days. The chance of a cancer diagnosis among the general population was astronomical and everyone wanted a cure. The race to find a cure was a competition. Scientists were often pitted against each other, always in pairs, working on the same type of cancer research. We had the same cells, the same samples, the same equipment.”

“Now that you’re saying we, I’m guessing you’ve come into the picture?” I ask.

“Yes. So Arthur and I were paired together, both of us working ourselves to death trying to find a cure for a specific form of bone cancer. Now the rules were you were not to speak or collaborate with the team you were working against. The Cancer Institute founders didn’t want a contamination of theories. One team worked during the day, the other at night. We were not to cross paths. But one day, we did. Both of us sitting in the park outside of our government funded housing development. We were walking our dogs and realizing that we had the same breed, we stopped to talk. When it came to the topic of work… we realized we were on opposing teams. Arthur and I were really working against each other.

“Arthur and I knew that we had a better chance of finding a cure if we worked together. So we did. Meeting secretly, collaborating. We spent all of this time cutting out tumors, irradiating body parts, injecting dangerous medications into the bodies of these sick people only to have another cancer spring up, a secondary diagnosis. For years we did this, until one day we came to a conclusion. This was an unwinnable fight, this race for a cure, these cancers that were consuming humans. So we looked elsewhere. We looked at the food we ate, the chemicals we were exposed to, the toxic wastes leaching into our systems from years of abusing the earth. All the while the population was exploding, the ozone depleted, and soon the skies over the busiest cities were thick with smog. Arthur and I knew we had determined the cause, the whole time the real cancer was the human race.

“So as the government was shifting monies from research and development to better the human race, to food and housing to care for the population, it wasn’t long before our funding was cut. Both of us were without a job. But I had a secret. One that not many knew. I had a wealthy family trust and being the only inheritor I was able to better our lives. I bought a little island, built a little lab, hired a few scientists and crew. Having no means to support himself, Arthur joined me immediately. And instead of searching for a cure for cancer, we searched for a way to cure the human race from its cancerous ways.

“The money didn’t last for long. So we had to outsource ourselves. This was a time when people wanted to choose the gender of their children, their eye color, their hair color, and we could do that. We were solicited by the richest members of society; celebrities, kings, queens, rulers of the free world, you name it, they came to us. And so we made money, and contacts. Are you listening, Andromeda?” he asks in the middle of his story.

I’m listening. I’ve been listening, so intently that I find my mouth hanging open. I close it slowly and swallow hard. What an information dump.

“Because this is where it gets good. This is the important part. One week Arthur was attending a genomics conference. While I had instructed him to only bring back a few of the brightest minds to help us, he brought back one person: a biomedical engineer. She was a very beautiful woman with blonde curly hair and green eyes, much like our Catalina. At first I was very wary of his selection, not only because of her beauty, but she was so quiet and I was sure Arthur was not thinking with his head when he brought her back. But I was wrong. Andrea turned out to be one of our best scientists. She was the one to suggest we branch off into the field of Nanobiotechnology. We had come to the conclusion that there needed to be a larger change to society and we all feared that finding others to continue on with this plan would be hard. So we were searching for a way to continue on ourselves.”

“And you made the nanocytes so you three could live forever and do this. This Reformation was your plan, wasn’t it?” I ask.

“Yes, it was. It didn’t take long for us to figure it out.”

Crane smoothes his hand over his tie. “Soon, something began to change in Arthur. It seems he fell in love with our biomedical engineer. But then, living on a tropical island surrounded by the beauty of nature can do that to a person.”

“Let me guess,” I interrupt him again. “You loved her too.”

“No,” he says with a small smile. “I was too intent on this plan we were creating. I had no time for love, or marriage, or children, as Arthur did. It wasn’t long before Andrea became pregnant. They did it the natural way, you see, there was no playing with the genome of Andrea and Arthur. I worried for them, but I was wrong. Andrea delivered a beautiful baby girl and they named her Selene.” He stops for a moment to clear his throat. “While I never wanted children I found myself very fond of Selene. Especially when she called me Uncle Burton. It was… very sweet.” He looks away from me for the first time since he started this story.

“So back to the adults. Being involved with the leaders of the world, tweaking their genetic data, meant that we were also involved with the high criminals of the world. And this made our job very dangerous. We created our own security detail, the Volker. And furthered that security detail to include the Guardians. But we also had to travel a lot, which made that danger uncomfortably close at times. This became apparent as Arthur and Andrea traveled back to the states to solicit a very prominent scientist and bring him back. It seems there was a drug lord in Rio de Janero who was rather unhappy with the intellect of his son whom we genetically altered for him. This drug lord wanted a smart son, someone to take over the family business, but what we gave him was a genius brain and drug lords have no time for a child with book smarts, they want the street smarts kind. If only we had realized this before. Sadly enough Arthur and Andrea never made it back from their last trip. They were murdered in their hotel room as they packed to leave.”

“What about their child?” I ask.

“Ah, Andromeda.” He smiles. “That is a very good question, indeed. They must have had some intuition about their mortality, or maybe there was some warning. Either way, after their bodies were discovered so was a child, hiding in the back of the hotel closet. Selene was alive and well, albeit she had just witnessed the murder of her parents, my greatest friends and collaborators.”

“Let me guess, you raised her as your own and everything was unicorns and rainbows?”

“No. I was-I am,” he corrects himself, “a very selfish person. And Arthur and Andrea and I had a plan. We promised each other that we would continue to carry it out even if something happened to one of us. So because of my selfishness, I allowed Selene to go to a foster family. Being an orphan myself, despite having been placed in a poorer example of a family when my parents died, I hand-picked a couple whom I thought embodied the ideas and beliefs of her parents. I have missed them terribly, but I know that I have been able to keep my promise to them.”

He stops, looking at me expectantly. Perhaps he does have a heart.

“I don’t understand, how does this relate to me?”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” he asks.

I stare at him, my brain spinning, trying to make some connection here. But the sound of the children laughing down the hall is distracting and so are the eyes of Crane and Adam on me.

“Your grandmother was an orphan. Did your mother never tell you?”

“Yes, she did, but my grandmother’s name was-”

“Constance Selene Salk,” Crane says. “The women on your mother’s side of the family have a habit of not changing their last names once they are married. I’m guessing it has something to do with not wanting to forget the past. Not wanting to forget that loving family that adopted Selene. Except for you, you’re the first to take on your husband’s surname.”

“So you are my great-grandfather’s best friend?”

“Yes,” he smiles proudly.

“That means you should be dead.”

“And here I am. Another example for you that the nanocytes work.”

“And you’ve been keeping an eye on me this entire time? My whole life you’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“You should. You need to. It will help you come to terms with your legacy.”

“I don’t want it.”

“I promised your great-grandfather.”

“I didn’t know him!” I yell.

“This is your birthright.”

“You’ve done nothing but play with my head this entire time.” I point at Crane. “You ruined my family, you threatened me, you wanted me to pair us together. What if I had agreed to your proposition back then? If I had paired us-” I hold down the bile rising in the back of my throat.

“I would have let Baillie kill you and waited for Catalina to grow up,” Crane tells me before I have a chance to finish my thought. “It would have meant that you were weak, not strong like your great-grandmother was. She fought for you to live. She hid your grandmother in that closet and fought to protect Selene. I had to make sure that you had these same traits.”

I don’t want this.

“Just think, Andromeda, you can keep them safe for forever. Generations of your family members.”

I don’t want this.

“No harm will become of them. And if someone else should meet the requirements, they may inherit the same gift I am about to bestow upon you. You can make a difference.”

I don’t want this.

“Andromeda, you want this. You need this. I need you.”

I don’t want this.

But… if he can get them into me, then he can get them out of me. And if I say yes now, then that will give me time to find a cure, to retract the nanocytes and live in peace. I’ve done it before with his creations. I removed the transmitter from Adam’s arm. I can find a way to remove the nanocytes. If I say yes, I get them back, and Crane will believe that I’m on board with this plan of his, this plan of my ancestors.

I don’t want this.

“Andromeda?” Crane asks one more time.

“Okay,” I say with a hesitant voice.

“You’re ready?” he asks.

I don’t want this.

“I… I think so.” I close my eyes. No!  “Yes.”

Opening my eyes, I watch as Crane reaches into his pocket and removes a small metallic disk, no bigger than a half-dollar. “They’ve been inside you this entire time,” he tells me as he places the disc between his index finger and thumb. “Waiting for me to release them. The pain will only be momentary as they attach to your cells and familiarize themselves with your DNA.” He pinches the disc between his fingers. “Forgive me, Andromeda, for the path to becoming a leader of men is not without pain.”

I feel a sharp pain in my arm, throbbing from where Crane injected my tracking device. I press my hand to the area. It does nothing to stop the throbbing. The feeling intensifies into a burning sensation deep within my arm and then moving up, towards my shoulder.

“Just give it a moment,” Crane says.

I swallow a groan of discomfort, dropping down onto one knee, pulling my arm close to my body. It stings and burns as though I submerged my arm in a pot of boiling water. Adam starts to walk towards me, holding his hands out to help me.

“Get away from me!” I warn him.

He stands up straight and does nothing but watch. After a few minutes in this position, it seems, the pain dissipates until I can feel it no more. I move to stand once again.

“Ah,” Crane smiles with accomplishment. “It is done. Congratulations on your immortality.”

“I’m not thanking you for this,” I tell him.

“I expected that,” he replies. “So this is where we part. I will give you some time to come to terms with your new mission, Andromeda. But I will call on you again. There are things that need to be discussed.”

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“I think I’ll go to Hanford first. I have to have a discussion with George Crossbender. Then I will visit Sakima.”

“What about the Residents, the Survivors?” I ask, remembering the war we were planning on defending ourselves against.

“There will be no war,” he says as he walks towards the door. “You have control of the Residents of Phoenix. And Adam, or dare I say Christian, has control of the Survivors. All is well.” He pulls the door open and walks through. “Tootles.” He waves.

I follow him and watch as he walks down the hallway and out the front door of the building as though he had not a care in the world. I feel Adam’s presence next to me.

“What does he have on you?” I ask, turning to Adam.

He shakes his head from side-to-side, refusing to answer.

“How could you do this, Adam? How could you agree to this and pull me into it? You’re so selfish.” I start walking towards the gymnasium.

“No more selfish than you.” He grabs my arm, stopping me. “All this time you’ve been fighting to keep your family safe. This started with your family.”

“Don’t turn this on me.”

“I’ve escaped death twice. What happens if there’s a third time? I succeeded in keeping Blithe out of trouble, keeping her safe within Phoenix. And now there’s Raven and Lina, and you.”

“Don’t include my family. Ian and I can take care of ourselves.”

“You’d like to think so wouldn’t you?”

“I’m done, Adam, or Christian. I don’t even know what to call you anymore.”

“Call me Adam.”

“Whatever. I don’t ever plan on seeing you again, so it doesn’t matter.”

“And if I want to see Raven? He is my son, after all.”

“Yet you’ve never been there for him.”

“I met him when we brought them here.”

“And that’s the last time. I’ll be dead before I let you near him again.”

Just then I hear the door crash open, slamming against the wall. It seems it’s only a second before Ian is running towards Adam. He doesn’t stop or slow or anything. Instead he runs at full speed, stopping only when his fist makes contact with Adam’s face, and it’s a bone crunching sound. A grunt of pain erupts from both of them.

“Stop!” I yell to Ian. “Stop!”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Ian spits out as he punches Adam from the other side. Adam backs up. I notice he’s not fighting back and barely defending himself. Perhaps he thinks he deserves this.

“Ian!” I scream at him. “Stop!”

“Don’t ever come near my family again!” Ian threatens him, twisting the neck of his shirt tight across Adam’s throat. Adam glances in my direction. “Don’t!” Ian warns pulling the handgun from the back of his pants. He presses it to Adam’s lower jaw, his finger twitching near the trigger. “Don’t you dare look at her or the children,” Ian warns with a voice so low and angry it scares me.

Adam says nothing, he just nods his head slightly, the barrel of the handgun pressing so hard it tips his head to the side. One of the Guardians that has been waiting in the hallway begins a low growl.

“You’re lucky the Guardians are standing here right now, because if they weren’t, you’d be dead. Which is what will happen if I ever see your face again.” Ian releases Adam’s shirt with a hard shove. Neither of them looks at me.

“Ian, let’s go, we have to go,” I tell him, pulling at his arm.

Adam leaves, walking down the hallway towards the locker rooms at the end. I rush to the gymnasium to find the children and Blithe staring in the direction of the doors. They must have heard the commotion. I run to Lina and Raven, crushing them to me, kissing their cheeks and hair. “Are you okay?” I ask them.

“Mom, you’re back!” Lina answers. Raven stares. “What happened out there?” She leans to the side of me, looking towards the door.

“Nothing.” I run my hands over the children feeling for injuries. “Just an argument. Come on.” I pick up Raven and take Lina’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

“But Adam’s out there.” She looks towards the door. “He’s not dead mom,” she whispers, eyes wide. “It’s a miracle.”

“No, sweetie, it’s not a miracle. Adam lied to us. Come on. We need to get out of here.”

“But, Mom,” Lina stalls.

“I’m sorry, but he’s not coming back with us. Adam lied. We don’t trust people who lie.”

Moving her eyes to the floor, Lina says, “But he’s alive.”

There are so many things I want to explain to Lina about love and trust, but this is not the time or the place. Hopefully seeing someone who she thought was dead didn’t ruin her too much.

I turn to Blithe, who is standing there wide-eyed. “I want to go,” she tells me. “I told Ian already. I didn’t know what they had planned. Adam showed up and said that there was an emergency. I just wanted to keep the children safe.”

“I know,” I tell her. “But you’re going to leave Adam? You’re going to leave your brother and come back with us?”

“Everyone at the Pasture is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family since my parents died and Adam disappeared. He came back after I was recruited by Crane, but… but I barely know him anymore. And…” Blithe looks more out of sorts than I’ve ever seen her, her blonde hair pulling from her bun to fall on her neck and shoulders.

“Sam?” I ask.

She smiles a little. “And there’s Sam.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Ian is on the phone with Sam as we step into the hallway. I hear him getting directions to the closest area of train tracks.

Picking up Raven and taking Lina’s hand, I lead Blithe and the children out of the school. Ian follows, repeating directions into the phone. As we reach the front door, I notice Mack standing near the entrance.

“See ya, Mack!” one of the boys shouts as we walk by him.

“Later, gator,” Mack replies. He looks up as we pass and gives us a nod. “Just follow the trail back to the tracks,” he tells us.

We walk the trail that Mack and Chuck brought me to Romney on.

“Do you want me to carry Raven?” Ian asks when we reach the field where I remember throwing up and turning hysterical.

“No.” I shift Raven onto my opposite hip. “I’m not tired yet.”

--

When we reach the edge of the forest and the train tracks are visible in a narrow clearing, Ian takes out the cell phone and dials a number.

“Alexander?” he asks. “We’re at the tracks-” He pulls the phone away and stares at the screen, his brow wrinkled.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“The line went dead.” The corner of his mouth downturns as he tries to call again. I see a notification pop up on the screen.

“What’s it say?” I ask.

“No service,” he replies.

“No service?” Blithe asks from next to me.

“Great, whatever secure tower the phone was connected to is out of service,” I say.

“Or that they shut off service to this phone,” Ian points out.

“What do we do now?” Blithe asks as she turns and looks towards the children.

“Sam is already on his way,” Ian says. “I guess we just wait.”

We pass the time by playing games and singing songs with the children, sitting in the clearing near the tracks.

“If we have to play Eye Spy one more time I’m pretty sure my eyes are going to bleed,” Ian grumbles as he leans towards me.

“Nice,” I tell him.

Blithe laughs. She’s sitting across from us. And then, stopping abruptly, her face pales and I notice she is no longer focused on us, but behind us. The back of my neck tingles. The Guardians stand and begin a low growl. I stand and turn, looking across the tracks where Blithe is focused.

There is a man, his eyes black and hollow, greasy shoulder length hair, and a scar from his left eye to the corner of his mouth.

“Shit.” Ian moves to his feet before I finish saying the word.

“Who the hell is that?” he asks, reaching for the handgun that is secured in his waistband.

Four more of the men slither out of the forest. I gasp, their long greasy hair is familiar, as well as the mud caked to their clothing and exposed skin. They each hold some type of weapon; a machete, an ax, or a strange sword-like thing. They don’t speak; their eyes are black, hollow, and fiery. And fixed on us.

“Get the children, Blithe.” I turn, pushing Lina and Raven towards her as she reaches for them. “Go back into the forest.”

“What are you going to do?” She whispers through her teeth. “They have weapons.”

“I know,” I tell her realizing how vulnerable we are at the moment. We have no Volker with us, just Ian. The oldest of the children, Marcus, is only twelve, and Cashel eleven.

“Who are they?” Ian asks.

“Swamp people, from Crystal River.”

The man with the scar smiles, his mouth curving up just like an alligator’s mouth for an attack. He takes a step towards us.

“Stay back!” Ian shouts to them.

The man with the scar says something in their Creole language that I cannot understand. I hear a scream from behind us. Turning, I see that it is Astrid. Blithe tries to soothe her.

“Take them back!” I tell Blithe. “Follow the trail back to the school.” I reach for my bag, pull the handgun out that Elvis gave me. I hand it to Lina. “You know what to do, Lina. Just like in target practice.”

“Mom!” Lina cries.

“Go, Lina. Take Raven and go with Blithe.” I look at the older boys, their faces pale and sweating. Marcus takes Ira’s hand, Cashel takes Lex’s, Lina takes Astrid’s. A small whimper escapes Lina. Blithe picks up Raven and directs the children to the trail we came on.

“Run!” I tell her. “Run as fast as you can!”

I watch for a moment as they run into the forest, hand in hand, following the trail that led us to the tracks. The cluster of Guardians runs with the children, only two remain with us.

Turning, I see that more of the Swamp people have emerged from the tree line. There are now ten of them. Ian flicks the safety off of the handgun.

“Stay back or I will shoot you!” he yells to them.

The man takes another step forward. “We hungry,” he says in a thick southern accent.

“We have no food for you,” I shout to the man.

He smiles, showing a row of crooked, rotten teeth. “Looks like plenty o’ food hiya.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Ian asks.

“I think they’re cannibals,” I tell him.

“Shit.” Ian corrects his stance and fires a bullet at the feet of the man with the scar. He laughs. Another row of people slinks out of the tree line. The man with the scar takes another step forward. The Guardians growl louder, flanking each side of us.

“I only have fourteen bullets left,” Ian whispers to me.

The man with the scar laughs loudly as though he heard. I reach down, pulling a rock and a stick from the ground.

“Go!” Ian tells me. “Go after the children.”

“No.” I grip the heavy stick in my hand. “I’m not sacrificing you to them.”

“A stick and a stone aren’t going to do shit,” he argues. “Get out of here!”

“No.”

The man with the scar stops laughing; gripping the machete in his hand, he lowers himself to a spread-legged, bent-knee stance. And as though I’m watching a pack of wild animals, the rest of the men follow, gripping their weapons, settling themselves into a similar stance, readying for attack.

“Shoot them,” I whisper to Ian.

“I’m waiting for them to make the first move.”

He’s hesitating, he can’t hesitate. I want to take the gun from his hands and shoot these people so he doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t have their deaths weighing upon his soul. I don’t want that for him, but there’s no time for that. I can’t save him from this.

“Don’t wait, shoot them!”

On key, as soon as the words come out of my mouth, the man with the scar lunges. Ian fires a shot, hitting the dirt at the man’s feet. He stops at the tracks, but the rest of the Swamp people continue moving, leaping over the train tracks right towards us.

“Run, Andie!” Ian yells to me.

The Guardians growl and snarl before leaping into the row of men that run at us. I watch as one lunges for the neck of one of the swamp people, tearing out a bloodied chunk of skin. The man drops to the ground, lifeless. The Guardians continue, leaping and attacking. One gives a loud yelp as it is cut by one of the attackers. I hear Ian shoot and watch as two of the men go down. I take a few steps back, and notice one of the men headed straight for me. I reach back and throw the rock at him as hard as I can. It makes contact with his shoulder, skimming off the man’s clothing and barely stopping him. He slows, but doesn’t stop. I grip the stick, thinking that maybe I could jab it in his eye. As I get ready, another gunshot rings through the crowd, leaving a hole in the head of the man who was running at me. I turn to Ian, who lets out the last of his bullets.

The Guardians growl at a cluster of the Swamp people who remain on the other side of the tracks, apparently afraid of the large dogs. There are at least five bodies and the man with the scar has yet to move.

“Yer outta bullets,” the man with the scar taunts.

Ian flips the handgun in his hand, grasping the barrel. The man with the scar starts running towards Ian. And without thinking, I run at them both, throwing myself onto the man. Ian reaches out, hitting him in the side of the head with the butt of the gun. Someone pulls me off of the man with the scar. I can tell by the smell, pungent and sour like rotting meat, it’s one of the Swamp people, either escaped from the Guardians or his injuries were slight enough for him to get off the ground.

I kick at him as he grips me around the waist, dragging me across the tracks, the whole time watching the scene of Ian fighting with the man with the scar. Ian hits him with the butt of the gun, until the man slaps it out of his hand. And then there is scuffling, the dirt by the tracks fills the air. I hear the sounds of punching, groans, bone hitting bone. Ian yells. The man with the scar fights with an eerie muteness.

The man behind me moves his arm across my neck. He talks into my ear, his rotten breath sliding over my face, “Don’ have much ladies in our company.” He laughs as I try to elbow him in the sides, unsuccessfully. “Oh! Oh, wait!” The man tightens his grip on my neck, and squeezing my face, he turns me to watch across the tracks from where he has just dragged me. “Dis de best part.”

When the dust clears, I scream as loud as I can, fighting to get myself away from the man holding me. Ian is on the ground, the man with the scar on top of him, holding the machete over his head. I can see the blood on Ian’s face, his shirt is ripped, and there is a long slice in his arm, blood streaming out of it. He struggles to get loose, but the way the man is perched on him-a foot on his neck, his knee across Ian’s pelvis-Ian can barely move.

“Ian!” I scream as the man with the scar starts to bring the machete down.

“No, no,” the man holding me warns, adjusting his grip on my face and neck. “Jus’ wach.”

My heart beats so hard in my chest, watching, knowing that I’m going to see Ian die right in front of me. “No!” I shout through my teeth which are currently pressed together by the man’s grip.

Then, the man with the scar stops midair. The machete drops from his hands, falling next to Ian’s head. Ian moves his arms, pushing the man off of him and as he rolls, I notice an arrow sticking out of his chest.

I look in the only direction it could have come from, the tree line. There is movement above the ground and I see Adam, perched on a branch, an arrow aimed at me.

“Aw, shit,” the man holding me calls out. His grip loosens. Ian stands, running in my direction. I look up to Adam as his arm moves back, he squints to aim. I close my eyes, holding my body as stiff as I can. Something rushes by my face. The man groans, lets go of me and drops to the ground.

“Andie,” Ian reaches me, pulling me towards him.

I turn to see the Swamp people that the Guardians have corralled start to slither back into the forest, the one that was holding me now lying on the ground, an arrow sticking out of his eye.

Adam jumps down from the tree and stalks towards us. Looking at Ian, his eyes dark, he says, “Looks like you might still need me.”

Ian glares back, pushing me behind him. Adam doesn’t look at me, but I look at him, and I can see that his face which was once bloodied and bruised from Ian’s assault is fully healed.

Impossible.

I take off my jacket, wrap it around my waist, then remove one of my layered shirts and begin wrapping it around the wound on Ian’s arm.

“Where are the children?” Ian asks.

“Mack is watching over them,” Adam stares at Ian. “Let’s get you cleaned up before Sam shows. Kids don’t need to see you like this.”

We retreat to the narrow trail, Ian shakes me off of him as I try to help him walk.

“Not that bad,” he waves a bloodied-knuckle hand at me and moves an arm length away so he’s walking in the tall grass.

“Did you know this would happen?” I ask Adam.

Adam, walking in front of us, simply turns his head so I can see the corner of his eye as he looks at me, without responding. But that’s all I need. He must’ve known, or had some sense or warning that the Swamp People were near, and used the situation to promote himself, teach us a lesson.

Adam veers off of the path, into the forest. I can hear the bubbling of the stream. I follow Ian to the water. He bends, unties the shirt I wrapped around the wound on his arm and submerges it in the cold water.

“Let me help you.” I reach for the shirt.

Ian moves away. “No. I don’t need help.”

“Ian.” I grab his uninjured arm, squeezing it. “Let me help you.” He’s pale, much paler than he should be. The nurse in me realizes it must be a bit of shock, of relief, anger. Maybe all three combined. I push him back. “Sit. Now, Ian. I will do this.” After all that has happened to us, I will not let this one incident be the final straw that tears us apart. I take the shirt from his hands, wring the cold water out, and use it to wipe his face. When the dirt and grime and blood are gone, and the only thing left are fresh cuts and swollen points threatening to bruise, Ian’s eyes meet mine. There is a glimmer there, a wateriness for just an instant, and then as quickly as I see it, it disappears, replaced with a blank stare, focused on the forest across the stream.

As I rinse the blood off of the shirt in the cold stream, my fingertips turning blue, the realization comes to me that Ian just killed a handful of men. I squeeze the shirt, rip a sleeve off, take a large cold rock from the bottom of the stream and wrap it in the remaining fabric of the shirt.

“Here. Hold this.” I press the wrapped rock to a knot on the side of Ian’s head that’s starting to turn purple. Using the sleeve, I begin wrapping around the cut on his arm. “You did what you had to do, Ian. No one will judge you for fighting for your family. Not me, not Lina, not even God. You kept us safe, you did well.” I tie the bandage around his arm, jerking him a bit to make him focus on me and not off in the forest. “We would have died if it weren’t for you.”

His face is blank. I look up to find Adam watching us, his bow gripped tightly in his left hand.

I grasp Ian’s face on both sides; move his head so he has nowhere else to focus but on my face directly in front of his. “Be here,” I whisper. “Now, Ian. Be here now. I am here, our children are here. I will not let this ruin you.” And just to prove that to him, I lean in and press my lips firmly to his.

When I pull away, he’s changed, now focused and aware. Ian stands, the wrapped rock still pressed to his face. “I’m not going to thank you, Christian.” Ian tells Adam. “If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess in the first place.”

“Fine with me.” Adam crosses his arms over his chest. “Just do me one favor,” Adam stares at Ian. “Call me Adam Waters in front of my men.”

Ian laughs. “That is the only and last favor I will ever do for you.”

“Fine. Let’s get the children and get you all out of here.”

Adam turns abruptly and lets out a loud whistle, a trill of notes. He turns his head to the right, holds his hand up for us to stop. Somewhere from within the forest the whistle returns. “Come on.” Adam waves. “They’re close.”

As we follow him back to the trail, Ian leans towards me. “Why am I holding a rock to my face?” he asks.

“It’s cold.”

“And?”

“You know, like an ice pack.” I explain.

“Oh.”

“What did you think it was for?” I ask.

“I thought you wanted me to throw it at him.”

We break the cover of the forest and find Mack walking towards us, Blithe and children in tow, surrounded by the remaining Guardians. I run for Lina and Raven, picking them up and holding them close to me.

“What happened to Daddy?” Lina asks as Ian walks towards us, a slight limp noticeable in his gait.

“He’s okay, honey. He got a little hurt.” I tuck a loose lock of curls behind her ear. “It’s safe now. We’re going to go home.”

We return to the tracks, escorted by Adam and Mack, standing there in an awkward silence until we hear the vibrations of the train tracks. Blithe herds the children to the protection of the forest cover and wait. The train pulls up slowly. I can see Sam through the front window, searching the side of the tracks for us. Ian steps out of the cover of the forest and waves him down.

When the train stops, Sam opens the door and steps out. Ian and I help the children into the engine car.

Blithe stops, waiting for us to get in.

Sam steps up next to her and takes her hand.

“Decided to come back?” he asks her as he helps her into the engine car.

“I didn’t want to leave,” she tells him softly before turning to the children and settling them on the benches.

We wait for Sam to climb up, but he never does.

“What’s he doing?” Ian asks.

“I’m not sure.” I walk to the door, down the steps, jump off and land on the solid ground near the tracks.

I find Sam talking to Adam near the tree line. They turn to look at me, stopping their conversation.

“Sam!” I shout to him. “Let’s get out of here.”

He waves, says one more sentence to Adam, then jogs towards the engine car. I stop him before he gets in. “What was that? Why are you talking to Adam?”

“It was nothing-”

“Nothing?”

“I was just thanking him for getting you guys safely to the tracks.”

“Really, Sam. He kidnapped the children, made us all come out here, and you’re thanking him?”

“It wasn’t just him, Andie.” Sam tips his head at me. “You have to know, there’s always something else going on.”

I shake my head in exasperation. “Can we just get the hell out of here?”

We board the train, Ian gives me a questioning look when my eyes meet his.

“Ready?” Sam asks.

“Let’s go home,” I tell him.

Sam eases the train into full gear. “Next stop, the Phoenix District.”

I look out the window and see Adam and Mack watching from the tree line as the train pulls away.

--

By the time we make it back to Phoenix it is night. A row of Volker, as well as Alexander and Elvis, are waiting to drive us back to the Pasture.

“Where’s Crane?” Alexander asks as we carry the sleeping children off of the train.

“He said he was going to see George Crossbender,” I tell him. “I need you to send for Dr. Akiyama, Ian is injured.”

Elvis frowns. “He’s not coming back here?”

“I hope not,” I tell him.

“Crane’s not coming back?” Sam asks as he carries Astrid, she is sleeping on his shoulder.

“No,” I tell him. “We made a deal. He won’t be back for a while.”

“Where did he go?” Sam asks.

“I think he’s going to Tonopah. But as long as he’s not here, I couldn’t care less where he goes.”

We make the quick drive to the Pasture. And the feeling of the comfort of home envelopes me as we pass the gates.

Dr. Akiyama tends to Ian’s wounds, stitching and bandaging the cuts. Sam escorts Blithe and the boys back to her house. Once the children are settled and tucked in together in the same bed having fallen asleep after Lina began reading a story to Raven and Astrid, I retreat to my room. Ian follows.

“What did they do to you?” Ian asks.

“I don’t think you would believe me if I told you,” I tell him looking around the room. Something is different here.

“Tell me.”

“Crane only gave me the children back on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“He wanted to inject me with nanocytes.”

“What are nanocytes? Is that some more of his genetic engineering bullshit?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him no?”

“Ian, you don’t understand. He wouldn’t give them back to me.”

“Andie, what did you do?” He takes a step towards me. “You didn’t let him, did you?”

“I had no choice.”

“You always say that! You always say that you had no choice. Everyone has choices, Andie. You could have done something, fought back…”

“I don’t want to fight, Ian! I’ve done enough fighting. I’ve seen enough fighting.”

“So you just laid down and took it?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Then what happened?” He stares at me while I remain silent, until he starts pacing near the doorway. “Okay then, what do these nanocytes do? What is their function?”

“They fix errors and damage in the DNA. They reconstruct cellular breakdown so the body doesn’t get sick, so it will heal, so I can’t… so I’ll never…”

Ian stops pacing, steps back, staring at me in disbelief. “So you won’t ever die.”

“Yes.” I break down in tears. And when I can calm myself, I tell him the story that Crane told me.

“So you’ll be like this, forever?” he asks.

“Unless I can get them out of my body.”

“Will you?”

“I’m going to try. I don’t want this. I don’t want to stay like this while everyone else around me ages and dies. I got you back. All I ever wanted was to grow old with you, like we promised to do together. I don’t want to live on, alone…” Suddenly, I realize what’s different about the room. “Where’s Raven’s crib?” I ask Ian.

“It was supposed to be a surprise.” He walks over to the empty space along the wall that once held the crib. “I moved him into my old room.”

I stare at him, letting it sink in. Husband and wife. That is what we are, and while we made strides getting back there, knowing what I know now, I can accept it. I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you, Ian,” I tell him. “I’m so sorry I let this happen. I don’t know how right now, but I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make this right.”

“Well, it looks like you have all the time in the world, now that you’re going to live forever. Will you still love me when I’m old and wrinkled? Will you still love me and my old wrinkly balls?” He asks with a furtive smile.

“Shut up!” I smack his shoulder. “This is no time for jokes. Don’t you see what he just did? Crane just took it to the next level. You know what he told me, that the Residents, these sheep Residents, need new Gods to fear. He thinks he’s rewriting history. Rewriting faith, religion, and these people will believe him.”

He releases me and steps back. “So, he’s creating his own deities?”

“No. I don’t know. I don’t know what he’s doing. All I know is that I am nothing more than a single person trying to keep my family safe.”

Ian steps towards me, placing his hands on each of my arms. “Maybe you were, but I don’t think you are anymore.”

“I’m no different. I’ll prove it to you.”

I leave the bedroom and head for the kitchen. Flicking the stove burner on, I reach for a knife from the butcher block and hold it over the flame, sterilizing it.

“What are you doing?” Ian asks, having followed me.

“Something I should have done a long time ago.”

I rest my arm on the sink and using my index finger I feel for the small lump that Crane injected into my skin. Finding it, I adjust the knife in my hand and press it to my forearm.

“Andie!”

“Be quiet!” I scold Ian. “You’ll wake the children.”

I press, suppressing the noise of pain in my throat. Bright red blood flows down my arm and into the sink. When I feel the tip of the blade hit something hard I stop. Setting the knife in the sink and using my fingers, I reach into the wound, grasp the transmitter between my fingernails, and pull it out. Holding it up to the light I inspect the small piece of metal. Crane told me it was a transmitter, and then he told me it housed the nanocytes. Whatever it really is, I throw it down into the sink drain and turn the water on.

“Oh my God,” I hear Ian whisper as he grasps my arm and twists it towards him.

“What’s wrong?”

I look down to find the gash I just cut into my arm has closed and the only thing left of my self-inflicted wound is a light pink line and the blood drying on my arm.

epilogue

“Things are well?”

“Things are well,” I repeat to Dr. Akiyama from his dark blue sofa. Ian squeezes my hand.

“I’m assuming you’re speaking to each other on regular terms now?” he asks.

“Yes-” I start.

“I don’t know, Doc,” Ian lets go of my hand and stretches his arm along the couch behind me, “sometimes we do things that don’t involve speaking.”

“Ian!” I swat at his chest and feel my face becoming an increasingly darker shade of red.

“That answers that,” Dr. Akiyama mumbles with a smile and makes a mark on his notebook. “Things seem good, there’s progress, finally.” He looks between us.

“It’s good,” Ian replies as he rubs his fingers over the wedding rings. I’ve taken to wearing them again instead of hanging them off of my necklace. The necklace that Adam gave me, I had to hide that, I’m not sure I can ever look at it again without remembering every single lie he’s ever told me.

“Have you spoken about the most recent turn of events, the outing to…” He flips through his papers. “Ah! Romney, West Virginia. It’s beautiful country there I hear.”

“I think so,” I reply. I look at Ian and squeeze his hand.

“Ian, have you come to terms with what you’ve done?” Dr. Akiyama drops the tone of his voice.

I grip Ian’s hand harder and watch as the color leaves his face. He’s suddenly pasty, white, and against the light blonde of his hair it makes him look ill.

“How many men did you kill, Ian?” Dr. Akiyama asks.

“Seven,” he responds.

“No.” I squeeze his arm. “Six, there were only six.” Adam killed the seventh and eight men; put an arrow through one’s heart and the other’s eye, the Swamp People.

“It doesn’t matter how many,” Ian mumbles as he moves his eyes to the dull gray carpet and releases my hand. I grasp it back, hoping that Dr. Akiyama didn’t see the movement, which would be a demerit against our progress.

“Ian, do not let this weigh heavy on your heart,” the doctor suggests. “There were abnormal circumstances and you were fighting to save your family. Something Andromeda has also experienced.”

“That’s different.”

“Not by much, just by numbers and, well, you weren’t being attacked, Andromeda, but the act was the same.” Dr. Akiyama turns a page in his notebook.

Ian whips his head towards me. “What is he talking about?” he asks, his eyes turning an impossible shade of darker brown, almost black.

There is an uncomfortable silence as I stare and the doctor watches us. I never told him the details of my deep dark secret, the one I knew he would hate me for, but promised he wouldn’t. Now it seems we share this sin, but mine feels a little darker. “The man I killed, he was unarmed,” I whisper to him.

Ian doesn’t respond, he just stares, his pupils widening as he takes in the image of his murdering wife sitting before him.

After a few moments Dr. Akiyama says, “You see, you both share this quandary. It is just another topic of discussion from which you can continue to work on your relationship.”

We say nothing, both still looking at each other.

Dr. Akiyama clears his throat. “And how are things now that you know Adam is still alive?”

“Adam is dead to me. I never want to see him again, ever.” As I say the words I can still feel Ian’s stinging gaze on me. I pluck at the edge of my shirt, nervously. Now all of my children’s parents are killers.

“I see,” Dr. Akiyama replies. He closes his notebook and stands, moving towards his desk.

I move to stand, pulling Ian up with me.

“Crane will be happy with your progress, both of yours, well, now that he has left the District in your care for the time being.”

“You talk to Crane still?” I ask.

“Of course I do. I would have thought that you would have realized this.”

“I guess I just thought that when he left, we wouldn’t hear from him.”

“Quite the contrary, Andie. Either way, he will be pleased.”

“So are we done?”

“For today.” Dr. Akiyama opens a drawer on his desk and places the notebook inside.

“No, I mean forever. You said we could be done when progress was made, and it has been made.”

Dr. Akiyama looks at Ian, who stands near the couch, then back at me as I’ve migrated towards his desk. “If you think you are ready,” he replies. “But there are other events which are about to occur which you may need my counsel for.”

“What events?”

Dr. Akiyama raises his brows, forming a thin white line across his forehead. “Ian’s son will be coming to live with you at The Pasture. He has been chosen, showed promise as Sovereign. And since he is old enough, he will commence his training immediately.”

…

“What’s his name?” I ask Ian as we head to our vehicle.

Ian shrugs. “I have no clue. Shouldn’t you know?”

“No. I don’t keep track of him and…her.”

Sliding into the passenger side of the SUV, to say the friction in the air is painful would be an understatement.

Ian starts the vehicle and heads for home, silent the entire way. I should have known, he said he forgave me for the infidelity, for the killing, for it all. But when Dr. Akiyama spilled the specifics of how I killed that man, that he was unarmed, Ian’s face changed just like I knew it would. He doesn’t forgive me, and he never will.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

M. R. Pritchard is a lifelong inhabitant of upstate NY. When she is not writing she is a NICU Nurse, wife, mother, gardener, aquarist, book hoarder and science geek. She holds degrees in Biochemistry and Nursing.

Thank you for reading THE PHOENIX PROJECT SERIES! I hope you enjoyed it! Stay tuned for books 4,5, & 6!

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Since there is no better way to share the love of a book than by word of mouth, please take time to leave a review on AMAZON or GOODREADS, lend the book, or tell a friend about THE PHOENIX PROJECT Series. If you’re looking for something to read until the release of The Phoenix Project Book 4, check out SARATOGA by M R Pritchard, a young adult paranormal romance, and the late-summer 2014 release, SPARROW MAN!

Meredith would love to connect with you. Like her Facebook page facebook.com/MRPritchard, follow her on Twitter twitter.com/M_R_Pritchard, or follow her on Pinterest pinterest.com/mp30/boards/. Visit any of these sites for information regarding previously published works and upcoming projects.

Visit MRPritchard.com or http://secretlifeofatownie.blogspot.com/ for information on all of M. R. Pritchard’s titles.