Tier Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Cindy Gunderson

  “Thanks for understanding,” I say apologetically, turning and beginning to run the three blocks to Tal’s location.

  Entering the office and finally able to stand still, sweat drips down my back and I gasp for breath. It’s been awhile since I full-out sprinted anywhere.

  “Hi Eric,” the nurse greets me, hurriedly whisking me to the back room. My heart sinks when I see Tal, his face covered in blood, holding a rag to his nose. Lacerations pepper his cheeks, and his eyes are lolling back in his head.

  “What happened,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. At the sound of my voice, Tal focuses and gives a wan smile. He attempts to answer me, but the nurse shushes him.

  “I’ll fill him in, you just hold still so I can continue treating these wounds, okay?” she instructs, taking a seat near his head. I am mesmerized watching her fingers deftly manipulate the sealing tape in a delicate line, pulling both edges of his clean wound into their original position.

  “I don’t anticipate any scarring,” she comments, reading my thoughts. I release my breath, not even realizing I had been holding it.

  “It was a lab accident,” she says. “Tal added the solution to his beaker and it exploded almost immediately. Thankfully, the solution itself had mostly neutralized during the reaction. He only has a few small chemical burns on his arms, but those are mild and should heal completely within a few days. The main damage was caused by the flying shards of glass.”

  I shudder, imagining shards of glass penetrating his eyes, the vitreous oozing—

  “I was wearing eye protection, Dad,” Tal says, his voice muffled. Am I that obvious?

  “And it’s a good thing you were,” the nurse comments. Looking at the pattern of cuts, closest together around his nose, fanning out toward his scalp, I can’t help but agree.

  “Thank you,” I say, “for calling me. I am so sorry this happened, Tal.” Reaching over his midsection, I hold his free hand.

  “How did the solution explode, exactly?” I question. The nurse looks at me pointedly.

  “That...is under investigation currently,” she huffs, her eyes flashing. “According to Dr. Jesmer, there is no possible way any substrates in the lab today could have reacted that violently. We think—well, there’s a possibility that this was someone’s idea of a practical joke.”

  “What?” I ask, incredulous. “Seriously?”

  Tal meets my eyes. “It happens, Dad.”

  “Since when?” I ask, my voice rising in volume.

  “Don’t worry, we will be thorough in our report,” the nurse soothes. “Tal’s right, though, every once in awhile, we have a student suffering more than most. They don’t always act appropriately and we have to intervene,” she prattles on, moving swiftly from one cut to the next.

  “Okay, Tal, time for the worst of it,” she announces, removing the rag from his nose. She soaks a large pad of gauze in cleansing solution and begins to gently dab the area. Tal begins to almost look like himself again, just slightly...puffier. He winces as she presses over a section of raw skin above his lip.

  “Do you need more pain meds?” she asks.

  “No,” he answers bravely, clenching his teeth.

  Tal sleeps on my shoulder the entire ride home. They were considerate enough to call a car for us, and my legs practically hum with gratitude.

  Suddenly remembering, I tap my sensor to send a message to Val. I didn’t realize it was already so late, and I hope she understands. Tonight could have been definitive for us. My shoulders slump, wishing things would have played out differently. Tal moans and I immediately react, shifting my body to accommodate a more comfortable position for him.

  He wakes enough upon our arrival to walk into the house, but he isn’t completely lucid. I repress a laugh at his mumbled responses. He likely won’t remember anything from tonight, but with my luck, he would recall his Dad laughing at him in his time of need. In his bedroom, I am barely able to administer his next dose of medication before he completely crashes.

  With Tal sleeping peacefully in his bed, the weight of the evening settles on me and I lie on the living room floor, not even taking the time to put the used vial in the sink.

  I am awakened hours later by the haunting sound of someone wailing. Blinking, my eyes dart around the room, taking in my surroundings. The sound is coming from the bedroom, and the previous evening clicks into my memory.

  “Tal,” I think, jumping to my feet.

  “Tal?” I call out tentatively, slowly opening the door and creeping toward the bed. Even in the dim light, I can tell that his wounds are still beautifully sealed, which is impressive, considering the intensity of his thrashing.

  “Tal,” I say gently, shaking his shoulder as I avoid his flailing arms. When he doesn’t wake immediately, I apply more pressure. His eyes shoot open, wild and frenzied.

  “Tal,” I repeat, “it’s alright, you are having a bad dream. It’s alright,” I soothe. He blinks, staring intently at me.

  “Where’s Mom? And Bent?” he blurts out.

  “Tal, you are on some pretty intense medication,” I say. “You had a bad dream.”

  “No Dad, I feel fine,” he assures me, lifting himself up to a sitting position. Beads of sweat lace his forehead. “It was real. I remember. We were sitting in a room, maybe in a medical office? I don’t know, it was really bare bones. Bent and I were sitting on chairs, watching you hold Mom. She was crying, and then you both laughed, then Bentley and I hugged you—something bad was happening. I was so sad,” he says, stumbling through with misty eyes. “Dad, I have had dreams before, but this was different.”

  My heart aches, listening to him imagine a life where Kate and I were together. Where he had grown up with her, possibly having a brother.

  “Tal, I—”

  “It wasn’t a dream, Dad,” he asserts.

  “Okay,” I say, capitulating. Driving the freshly opened tide of anguish down, I swallow hard. “Okay, not a dream. I will see what I can find out.” He nods, sinking back down to his pillow.

  “How is your face feeling?” I ask, hastily changing the subject before I break.

  “Pretty good, I think.”

  “Would you like more medication?”

  “I’m okay,” he says yawning.

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind,” I reply, giving his shoulder a pat. Closing the door, I walk across the hall and drop my clothes to the floor, collapsing into bed, my chest tight. I give in to the tears then and eventually fall into a fitful sleep, my pillow damp.

  69 Kate

  I can’t look at him. We still haven’t discussed what happened the other night, but the memory of it burns within me. All those people, looking at me like that—Nick not even listening to what I had to say.

  We sit here, side by side, feeding the girls and yet I feel like a chasm has opened up between us. He coos while he feeds Leah, and I literally want to punch him in the face.

  “I think she’s finished, Kate,” he says cheerily.

  I nod, continuing to fill the tiny spoon for Beth.

  Nick leans on the counter, watching me.

  “Kate, c’mon. How long are we going to do this?”

  I focus on Beth, my hand suddenly shaky.

  “I am so sorry for how I acted. It was slightly stressful, if you remember. And I have seen your scans, I—” Sighing, he shakes his head and begins rinsing out Leah’s bowl.

  “It’s not that, Nick,” I murmur and his head snaps hopefully toward me. They are the first words I have spoken to him. “I had something really important to tell you. It felt so intense and you were the one person I thought would understand. I don’t care if I was right or wrong, I needed someone to listen and you...humiliated me,” I finish, tears beginning to overflow with the physical release of these words I have been holding so tightly. I look away, wiping them on my sleeve.

  Beth spits out her last bite. Wiping the food off her lips, I pull her out of her seat, moving her to the living room to play. Leah comp
lains, seeing her sister’s newfound freedom. Nick lifts her out so she can join her.

  “I am truly sorry, Kate. I don’t know what else to say,” he says softly. Reluctantly, I go to him then, allowing him to hold me. I think of all the times he has comforted me, waited patiently while I struggled, and my ears burn with the realization that I have been punishing him for a singular, isolated mistake.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “You are so supportive normally, I shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it.”

  He kisses the top of my head, his breath hot against my skin. I raise my eyes to his, reaching around the back of his neck and pulling him toward me. Our kiss is tender, searching. I begin to kiss him more intently and he pulls back.

  “Nick—“

  “The girls—“ he says.

  “They’ll be fine,” I argue. “They haven’t figured out how to stand yet, the play boundary will keep them safe.”

  “I—”

  “Please, Nick,” I whisper, watching his face for any sign of why he is resisting. Finding nothing, I lower my eyes and drop my arms to my side. I take a step back, only to be pulled fiercely into his embrace. His lips crush against mine and my heart races. I pull at his clothes, wrapping my legs around his waist as he picks me up and carries me to the bedroom.

  Hours later, after going through the motions for the remainder of the day, I lie between the sheets, staring blankly at the dark ceiling. It didn’t help. Though this afternoon was a wonderful distraction, the knowledge within me still resides, as solid as it existed that day at training. I know something is missing. I know those dreams are telling me something. But what? What is the truth? And why won’t Nick even consider the possibility? I know he has seen my scans, but how does he know that he’s seen everything? Normally, he is open—eager, even—to exploring my ideas. Why is this different?

  “Are you still up?” Nick whispers.

  “Yes,” I say, unmoving.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks, flipping over onto his back. He doesn’t reach out, just lays beside me, our arms gently touching.

  “So much, Nick. So. Much,” I answer, exhaling loudly.

  “I need to tell you something,” he says.

  “I’m listening.”

  “This new position...it’s given me access to information not readily accessible by the general population of Tier 1. When Bentley talked about Tier 3 the other day—”

  “I thought you forgot about that.”

  “I didn’t forget, Kate,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow, looking down at my face, my eyes still fixed directly into the blackness above me. “I searched everything I could find and came up empty. Do you remember that night after our meeting? When I was a complete mess?”

  I nod. “I thought you already explained that moment to me—”

  “Only part of it,” he interjects. “I brought those questions up with them. I didn’t know what to think after the Director asked me to leave, but I was terrified.”

  “Then you were offered the position,” I say, finally meeting his eyes.

  “Right,” he sighs, dropping back to the pillow. “I know they still aren’t giving me every scrap of information, but I do have some. Tier 3. It was phased out years ago.”

  I sit up straight, holding the sheets to my chest.

  “What?” I demand.

  “I know, it sounds impossible, but it’s true. Think about it. Even Bentley noticed the inconsistencies in the numbers.”

  “But what about the service assignments? The resources that we prepare? How—”

  “I had the same questions, and I asked them. Our society works because everyone has a purpose. Everyone is required to sacrifice, and that necessitates someone to sacrifice for—”

  “Hold on, Nick. This makes no sense,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose between my forefinger and my thumb. “My mom worked with Tier 3. She was responsible for distribution, we have talked about this! How could—”

  “Kate, will you please let me finish?” Nick says softly. “I don’t know what your mom was working on, but it wasn’t Tier 3 distribution. It’s possible she was working on reintegration. I can look into it, but I doubt there’s much to go on,” he says, pausing. When I don’t answer, he continues. “Back to your previous questions, with Tier 3 petering out, the Committee had to adjust things to continue on with our current model. Could you imagine? People sitting around, useless?”

  “But we have plenty of resources. Why would Tier 3 need to be eliminated if we have plenty?”

  “It’s not a matter of having enough, it’s an issue of progress. Efficiency.”

  “If we have resources available, why couldn’t we at least improve the quality of life for Tier 2? For Tier 1, even? Couldn’t we open that up to everyone?”

  “Play that out, Kate,” Nick says patiently.

  The Tier system would truly be obsolete in that situation, so what would replace it? I can’t come up with anything that doesn’t resemble a past government that ultimately failed.

  “I don’t—I don’t know what it would look like,” I admit.

  “We would be taking a chance on something that has absolutely no history of success, risking the possibility that it could become something that does have a history of failure.”

  “Couldn’t we put our best thinkers together?”

  “That’s literally what the Committee did,” he argues, putting his arms behind his head. I glance over, my eyes lingering on his chest before reaching their intended destination.

  “What did they decide?” I ask, my face inches from his.

  “That it’s better to continue with what we know. Safer,” he says.

  “How?”

  “The Committee is absorbing the extra resources,” he answers, pausing for my reaction. Any words I conjure seem to die in my throat. What does that even mean?

  “We will be responsible for pushing society forward, and those resources will allow us the flexibility to do that. How can we have the creativity to think outside the box when we haven’t experienced anything but the box. We can travel, study whatever is important to us, there aren’t any limits. Only unlimited growth,” he explains and my mind grows wild with possibility. Travel? No limits? It’s literally every fantasy I have had since I was a child. Then, the realization that I would be taking more than my share—using resources for my personal benefit—hits. I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that. How is this justifiable?

  “All of these people. Nick, all of these people are contributing. And for what? For personal growth? It seems like there has to be a better way to accomplish that,” I argue, turning to him.

  “I think they will continue to get plenty in return,” he says. “Think of how much better our society could be if we had enough resources for all of my research projects alone. I have no doubt that each of those will shed light on significant issues. And Bentley? Unlimited access to technological research. He just told me the other day that he wants to clean the soil, Kate. Everyone will benefit from that progress.”

  “In Tier 1, but what about Tier 2? How will this benefit them? Will they just be an afterthought like Tier 3? They still suffer, there’s still violence...” I counter.

  He nods. “To such a lesser extent than in the past, though, you have to at least recognize that.”

  “Definitely, I know. I’m not trying to say that we haven’t made progress, but—I guess it just seems like this would be a natural time to evolve—to take the risk—and assimilate. Try something better.” I pause, something clicking in my subconscious from earlier in the conversation. “Wait, Nick, what happened to those left in Tier—”

  Nick shifts positions and sighs. “Someday, I would love to see assimilation, too. It’s just not going to happen now. So we have the choice: either jump in and help design the future, or let it pass us by. I’m not good at being a bystander, Kate, and this is an incredible opportunity to make a contribution as a family.”

  As a family. I am sick. My b
rain is too discombobulated with new information, and the dreams…I—

  “Your appointment is tomorrow,” Nick says.

  “My appointment?” I ask, drawing a blank.

  “The follow up treatment, I thought I told you about that?” he questions, lifting himself to his elbows.

  “I must have forgotten,” I mumble, momentarily pulled from my existential crisis. “Nick, I’m worried about my milk supply. It hasn’t been fully restored after the last procedure. If I go in tomorrow—”

  “The girls will be fine, Kate. They are taking bottles regularly now, and we have plenty of milk in the freezer. You may...well, depending on how this visit goes, you can determine if you would like to continue going in for boosters. I don’t know if they will make a difference. We could consider treating another area to—”

  “No,” I say. “I am sure the other dreams will fade in time. Like you said, I don’t have any other history of reversal.”

  “I’m sorry, Kate. I wish I had more answers for you,” he offers, but his eyes are guarded. My chest squeezes, perceiving that Nick can’t be my ally in this search for truth. He has made it clear that my opinions on this topic aren’t open for discussion anymore, yet I know I need answers. I am on my own.

  70 Kate

  Nick places the electrodes gently on my skin. My arms tense involuntarily, a frustrating, irrational response. There is nothing to fear, but I can’t convince my body of that reality. The port has already been placed and, as Nick connects it, I am mesmerized by the consistent drops, slowly entering my system. Eyelids heavy, I rest my head…

  The door opens and my eyes search the room, finding Eric, Tal, and Bentley seated along the wall. I rush to them, dropping to my knees and wrapping my arms around them. Bent’s hair tickles my face, Tal is taller than I remembered. It’s been only a day, but I swear they look older. We cry together, emotion draining out of us into a collective whole. Eventually, my eyes hunt for Eric. Rubbing their backs, I release them and go to him.