Tier Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Cindy Gunderson

“Kate, do you feel that there were any drawbacks to Berg initiating your pairing with Nick? Now that you have had some time to bond?” the Director asks. Kate seems to ponder this for a moment.

  “No, I really don’t. There wasn’t as much initial suspense, which could be a positive or a negative, I guess, but for me, I think it was exactly what I needed.”

  Receiving a few blank stares, she elaborates. “I just mean that, as a kid, you hear about people finding pairings. They tell stories of their first meeting, or the first time they ran their numbers. So, I had kind of built that up in mind. Meeting this way took out any of that excitement and suspense, you know? We still had some, especially because we had the opportunity to accept or decline, but it was different than I had always seen it in my head. Again, not necessarily a negative, just...different.”

  “Thanks for your input. We will consider it and see if we can better align our processes with cultural norms in the future,” the Director muses. “I look forward to seeing you next time. I don’t ever want you to feel obligated to come, but know that you are always invited,” he says sincerely. Kate thanks him, moving toward the door.

  “I will wait for you in the courtyard,” she whispers to me as she passes.

  “Oh, Kate, before you go, I wanted to let you know that I am sending over some options for potential service assignments,” the Director adds. “Nick put forth your request, and while I can’t guarantee your preferred situation, I hope that something will stick out to you.” Kate nods happily and steps out into the hall.

  The door closes, and adrenaline immediately rushes through my veins.

  “How have the trials gone this week?” Shari asks.

  “Good, so far,” I say, too quickly. “We have two days under our belts. I hope to know more about the results early next week.”

  “We have high hopes,” the Director says.

  I take a deep breath. “The other day, I was researching in the database and came across a chart showing statistics for Tier 3,” I blurt out. I might be making it up, but I am almost positive Shari stiffens in that moment. “I was perplexed because these numbers seem to have been static for years. I wondered if more current research is needed?”

  The Director begins to speak calmly, “I think those numbers are correct. There are plenty of—”

  “I was also very interested in your response to Kate’s request to serve with Tier 3, sir, and I looked up the current statistics on Tier 3 service assignments. It took some searching, because those numbers aren’t all available in one location. Piecing it together, I found a massive discrepancy between the number of actual Tier 3 individuals and the number of Tier 1 and Tier 2 individuals assigned to serve there.”

  The room is silent now. I am not planning to tell them about my stop at the Tier 3 distribution center unless I have to.

  “Based on those numbers—if they are, in fact, correct, as you say—there are only two possible ways to interpret the data: either we are severely mistreating the people of Tier 3—in which case it would be ideal for Kate to serve there—or there aren’t many people to mistreat.” Nobody speaks. Then the Director clears his throat.

  “I think you should leave for now, Nick.”

  “But—”

  “We will discuss this at a later date, thank you.” His mouth is pinched into a thin line and he doesn’t meet my eyes.

  Not knowing what else to do, I hastily pack up my display and step out of the room. For the first time, as I rush down the hall—feeling the air against my skin—I notice my body is damp with sweat. How long was I talking? Maybe thirty seconds?

  Though I am still humming from the conflict, my body slightly relaxes from simply being further away from the room. Hearing sudden footsteps behind me, I spin in surprise. It takes me a moment in the dim light, but I recognize Shari moving briskly toward me.

  “Nick, stop pushing this!” she hisses, gripping my bicep and moving me quickly along the hallway. “I promise you will get your answers, but leave it alone for now.” She stares at me, pleading. “Trust me,” she begs, then turns on her heel and marches back the way she came.

  58 Kate

  Nick enters the courtyard and looks like he just ran for miles. I take him in, his hairline wet with sweat, shirt rumpled.

  “What did they do to you?” I ask, laughing initially, but quickly noticing that Nick is somber. “Are you ok?” I question, my mood quickly shifting to concern.

  “Yes, I know. I look terrible. It was warm in there and I got really nervous talking about some new information. Also...I might be in trouble and I am so sorry if I caused problems for us,” he says hurriedly, pulling me toward our bikes. I yank my arm away, forcing him to stop.

  “Nick, what is going on?” I ask, seriously worried at this point.

  “Nothing,” he says, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I—don’t know if I pushed too hard on something that I am not meant to be a part of. I felt like it was right, but...I may have upset the Director,” he sighs, gulping in a breath of air. “I am sure it will be fine, I just want to go home and eat.”

  I hold his hand, attempting to ground him. “I trust you, Nick. I’m sure if you felt like it was important, you did the right thing.”

  By the time we arrive home, I am also covered in sweat, so Sam doesn’t think twice about Nick’s physical state. That hill to our house is brutal. We listen to him recount the evening while we eat, then begin the process of putting the kids to bed. Once they are tucked away, we shower and head to bed ourselves, seeing that Sam had fallen asleep on the cot in the living room.

  I am extremely curious about what happened in the meeting room tonight, but Nick isn’t inclined to discuss it at the moment, and I don’t want to push. We undress in silence. When we are comfortable on our pillows, Nick reaches over and runs his hand along my arm. My skin tingles.

  “Thanks for supporting me today,” he mumbles softly.

  “Always,” I say, and watch him close his eyes.

  “Mom?” I scream, reaching for her, somehow moving in the opposite direction. I try desperately to make forward progress. She is wrestling with something, being pulled through the door frame against her will.

  She screams my name, over and over. I can’t get to her! I run and scramble across the earth, never getting closer.

  “Mom?” I hear a small voice next to me and I stop, whipping my head toward the sound, my mother’s voice fading on the wind.

  “Bentley?” I ask. He’s so much smaller, but it’s him.

  “Hi Mom, are you ready to come home now?” he asks.

  “Yes, that sounds wonderful,” I say, holding his hand and following him through the trees. There is a small clearing and I look up to see Eric standing in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame and staring at me, smiling brilliantly.

  “Hey, Mom!” Tal calls from garden, waving and showing me his pile of weeds.

  I gasp awake, and tears streak my cheeks, my chest burying sobs. Nick wakes and pulls me to him, as he always does. I cry into his shoulder while he strokes my hair until, eventually, I drift back into sleep.

  When I open my eyes, morning light is streaming in and my breasts feel like rocks. How did I sleep so long? I groan, rolling gently to the side, hoping to avoid pressing on them. Stepping down to the floor, I pull on pants and practically run to the girls’ room, but they aren’t there. Hearing noises in the kitchen, I rush toward them, realizing too late that Sam might be out there. And I am not dressed.

  “Hey, Mom!” Bentley says, and the night before comes crashing back into my mind. The girls start whimpering as soon as they see me.

  “I’m never as good as Mom, huh girls,” Nick states, feigning disappointment. Not seeing Sam, I rush to them. He hands Beth to me first, then Leah, while I position myself to feed them. I sigh, feeling instant relief as soon as they begin to drink.

  “A little full?” Nick laughs.

  “Just a tad,” I grimace. “What time is
it? Where is your dad?”

  “It’s 8:30, sorry. I wanted to let you sleep. Dad is up at the soil research center. He needed to meet with someone there before heading home tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you have to be at the lab?” I ask worriedly.

  “I do, but I rearranged my first hour. After what happened last night...I figured you could use a little extra help this morning.” He grins and I smile gratefully. Seems like he is less concerned about his situation this morning. Hopefully it isn’t as big of an issue as he initially thought?

  “Thank you, that was really sweet. I might feel almost normal,” I laugh, looking down at my swollen breasts.

  “They didn’t eat much from me, so they should be hungry, at least,” Nick chuckles. He is already dressed and ready to go. I breathe a silent sigh of relief seeing him so chipper.

  “I will take Bent to conditioning on my way, we missed drop-off,” he says.

  “You’re the best.”

  He swoops over and kisses me, then walks out the door with Bentley, leaving me alone with the girls.

  My headache is as bad as it’s ever been. Throbbing pain is emanating from the base of my skull and fingers of pressure stab the back of my eyes. I blame it on my horrible night and the fact that I probably tried to accomplish too much today. I quickly swallow a naproxen sodium tablet, hoping to find some relief. Bentley is entertaining the girls, but I know I need to get them all into bed soon. Because of Nick’s later start this morning, I don’t expect him to be home anytime soon. Closing my eyes, I attempt to salvage some strength for the bedtime routine. Sam still hasn’t returned home, and for the moment, I am grateful. I don’t want him to see me like this.

  When the girls are successfully in bed, Bentley and I retreat to his room for stories.

  “Bent, do you think you could read to me tonight?” I ask, holding my fingers over my eyes.

  “Sure, Mom. Are you ok?”

  “My headache is really bad and the light is aggravating it. It’s hard for me to open my eyes right now.”

  He selects a book, then pauses, noticing something tucked behind the main stack of reading material.

  “Hey Mom, it’s ‘In the Meadow’,” he says. “You used to read that to me all the time. Can we read it?”

  I don’t respond immediately. Something inside me clenches and I see stars behind my eyelids.

  “I don’t know, I guess it’s only for babies,” he mumbles, interpreting my lack of response as a judgement.

  “No, Bent, not at all. Let’s read it. Sorry, my head is getting worse and I was distracted.” I lie down on his bed and motion for him to join me.

  “Kate?” I hear, my shoulder shaking gently. I open my eyes, disoriented, and see Nick.

  “Hey,” I say, taking in my surroundings. Why am I in Bentley’s room?

  “Looks like you fell asleep in here. I thought you might want to sleep in your own bed,” he says smiling. The pounding in my head has retreated a bit, but it’s still alive under the surface.

  “Is Bent ok?” I ask.

  “Shhhh, he’s right next to you, c’mon,” he says quietly, lifting my elbow. I follow him, stumbling slightly.

  “Are you ok?” he asks, his amusement sliding into concern when he sees me in the light of the hall.

  “It was just a weird day,” I mumble. “My headache was awful. I tried to do too much.”

  Nick turns to me, pressing his hands to the sides of my face. “Tell me about it. What does it feel like?” His sudden intensity sobers me.

  “It’s better now...I don’t know how to describe it. It...got progressively worse during the day. It felt like it wrapped from the base of my skull to my eyes in an arc, if that makes sense?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he says, pressing gently along the back of my neck, finding the cranial pressure points behind my ears. He holds his thumbs there, gradually increasing his force. My head throbs and I hold my breath, but I can feel a slow release.

  “Thank you,” I say as his hands slide away.

  “Kate, I think you should come in for a scan. I really want to see if I can help.”

  “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble?”

  “No, but I will deal with that if I need to. I’m worried about you,” he says, his voice thick with concern.

  “I could go in and get a work-up,” I offer.

  “You have done that already and it didn’t help. Let’s try something else.”

  I nod. “Just let me know when and I’ll be there,” I say.

  He leads me to bed and the darkness of our room is pure bliss. I allow myself to drop back into the relief of sleep.

  59 Nick

  Movement catches my eye and I glance up, watching the door open. Kate has been resting peacefully for a few minutes now, but seeing my dad enter the room makes me grateful that I waited instead of joining her immediately.

  “Long day?” I ask, noticing the circles under his eyes.

  He nods. “Lots to cover. Sorry I missed so much time with the kids today,” he says, disappointed.

  “Kate wasn’t feeling great, so I think it was actually fortuitous.”

  He shrugs the bag from his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing. “Is she doing alright?”

  “She’s resting now. Can I get you something to eat?” I ask, and he nods gratefully. With his arrival, we were given a few extra portions to cover another adult in the house for a few days. I heat up the stew that Kate set aside for him earlier this evening. He sighs at the aroma, shoveling it into his mouth as soon as I serve it.

  “How are you two doing?” he asks mid-bite.

  “Great,” I say, not entirely knowing where to go from there.

  “Great?” he asks.

  “I—yes. Really good. You know, Dad. I still feel insecure in this whole thing, but every week seems to bond us a little more. Having the girls obviously continues to pull us together and Bent and I are as close as we’ve ever been. We are on the right path.”

  He nods.

  “Do you miss Mom?” I ask, knowing that he has been with another woman regularly for the last few months.

  “Every day,” he says.

  “But what about—”

  “Nick, nobody can ever replace the bond we shared. You know that. I’m not lonely, if that’s what you’re asking. But yes, I miss her.”

  “Do you—well, considering your health and everything involved with that, do you feel happy with your life?” Heat rises to my face as I realize I just alluded to his death.

  “It’s okay,” he says, noticing my concern. “I know my journey is nearly at its end. And yes, I am happy with it. All of it. Watching you grow and learn, being willing to sacrifice and make immense contributions to our growing society—what could be more gratifying than that?”

  “Sometimes I question my contributions, Dad. With everything I have working in my favor, it seems like I should be doing more,” I admit.

  “You will,” he assures me. “One step at a time. Trust yourself, Nick. You’re not meant to follow the systems we already have in place. With the growth and change we have experienced—even solely during my lifetime—we need sustainable innovation more than ever. Being a pioneer is never easy, but I am convinced that you are just that.”

  I swallow, allowing his words to sink deeply into me. He might be convinced, but the internal struggle for me remains. What if I never find that opportunity? What if my brain and body are primed for progress, but the right moment never comes? As if reading my thoughts, my dad grips my shoulder.

  “Don’t think so much, son. You’ll know it when you see it.”

  The results from the lab are posted by the morning, waiting for me when I open my display. Tamara has completed the one week post-treatment interviews with our patients. Hovering over the file, my finger hesitates, momentarily overwhelmed by how much I want this to have made a difference. If it didn’t, I don’t know what’s next. Taking a deep breath, I open it and scroll. My eyes frantically scan for the results. When I fin
d them, my heart leaps. I read it again to be sure I understood correctly. No new headaches. Nobody reported headaches. It’s too soon to tell if dreaming will be an issue, but this is significant progress.

  A wave of goosebumps crosses my skin. I can’t believe it. This might have actually worked. If these results hold with the rest of our patients, I may be able to start trials with those who have had more extensive symptoms from prior treatments. Questions and implications flood my mind. Could this possibly be restorative for past damage? Or is it only effective for new treatments? Maybe with a mixture of spinal adjustment and REM induction, we could release previous echoes and eliminate them? My excitement builds, relief replacing tension I didn’t even recognize I was holding. My mind is solely focused on helping Kate. I want to be the one to solve this. I need to solve this for her sake. And mine.

  After my dad leaves, I spend the next week plugging through trials and, in my spare time, finding ways to hack into Kate’s file. My research hasn’t given me any solid leads on Tier 3, so I have completely immersed myself in her well-being to avoid the cognitive dissonance that exists there. I know she is wondering why I haven’t asked her to come in, but I may only get a few shots at this before someone notices Kate being used as a subject. I have to know as much as I can. There might also be a small part of me avoiding it out of fear, which I hate admitting to myself. I haven’t heard anything from the Director since our last meeting, and I can’t imagine that is a good thing. Honestly, though, that should give me more reason to break the rules, not less.

  Getting into her recent file wasn’t hard, especially since Shari inadvertently gave me the password a few months ago when the Director had accidentally logged in under a different user. Accessing her scans pre-Eric is proving difficult, though. I can see the file exists within Kate’s profile, but it’s restricted. This will be my project once trials are done for the afternoon. Solely considering the images I currently have access to, I am flabbergasted that her headaches are so infrequent. In her most recent session alone, her neurons and pathways were significantly altered—more drastically than any scans I have seen—in a matter of days. The before and after scans are shocking. I need to get to her childhood history. If they are anything like this...I may be out of my depth.