Tier Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Cindy Gunderson

  Throwing myself back on the bed, I pull my hair in frustration. Then I hear Nick’s voice wafting in from the kitchen.

  “...I have been very clear, I won’t compromise on that point...Then it doesn’t matter, does it? In that situation, the information would be of no harm to anyone…”

  A long pause drives me to my feet. Peeking around the door frame, I spot Nick, stooped over, elbows on the counter. I can’t make out the words, but I can hear a woman lightly speaking. The voice prattles on, Nick fixated on his sensor.

  “Right. I understand, though—”

  More nodding, his fingers splaying and then returning to fists.

  “Let me talk with Kate, but that sounds reasonable. What are we looking at for timing?”

  I walk down the hall, slowly approaching. Nick meets my eyes, a tragic smile on his face.

  “Once that occurs and I am shown proof, I will return for the debriefing and demonstration, yes. Alright, thank you. I’ll look for it and get back to you within the hour.”

  His sensor goes dark, and I close the distance between us.

  “What was that all about?” I ask, second guessing myself when I see Nick’s expression.

  “We need to make a decision,” he answers, his voice tight.

  “About what?”

  Nick breathes deeply. “You and Bentley having the opportunity to return to your family.”

  My heart nearly stops and I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. All of the pent up energy from the stress of the unknown explodes upward, releasing through heat and tears. I collapse in on myself, allowing the sobs to flow freely. Nick lifts me, pressing me to his chest. I hate myself in this moment, for allowing him to comfort me, for being so thrilled when he must be at his lowest. Pulling myself together, I ask the question that is pressing at the forefront of my mind.

  “How?” I ask, searching his face.

  “It’s not important, but—”

  “No, Nick, I have to know. I need to know every detail. This has been literally eating at me day in and day out. All I ever think about is how we can possibly fix this—this mess! I can’t go one more second not knowing,” I plead.

  He nods. “You’re right,” he agrees. “You need to know, I just don’t want to relive it,” he says, running his hands through his hair. “Let’s sit.”

  We move into the living room and sit across from each other on the couch.

  “You aren’t the only one who has been puzzling this out,” he admits. “I know I haven’t talked about it, but that’s only because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Kate, I didn’t think there was anything we could do, and then—well, then I had an idea. I knew it was a long-shot with so many unknown variables that could potentially throw me off course, but I decided to try.”

  He leans back, stretching his legs out, at least attempting to make himself comfortable. “I have felt sick about this research on reversal therapy. On the one hand, I am obviously ecstatic that I have initialized a new way to administer the therapy. On the other, I am terrified that it will be used to hurt more than help. You understand,” he says, meeting my eyes. “These echoes are the only indicator for the patient that something has happened. With the poor judgement I have witnessed, I don’t trust our leadership to use it wisely.”

  “How did they respond to your research last night?”

  “I didn’t present it,” he sighs. “I mean, I did show my tables of results, but I didn’t tell them my procedure. My lab assistants actually agreed to be treated—removing their memories of our trials from their minds—in preparation. Tamara…still breaks my heart a little. She was so invested in making sure these trials were successful. One of the only people who I was able to confide in and I can’t even give her credit. But I had to be the only one with the information.”

  “Wow,” I say. “Why?”

  “Because...I didn’t want there to be any possible way for vital information to leak out. Berg has a massive problem with these treatment symptoms and I knew how badly they were going to want this information. My assistants didn’t even blink an eye when I told them it was procedure. Last night, I told the Committee that they had to meet my terms in order to have access to anything,” he says, holding his breath. “Kate, Carole Berg was there,” he adds, pausing as if to watch my reaction.

  “You told Carole Berg that she had to meet your terms?” I nearly shriek, my eyes surely bugging out of my head.

  Nick laughs nervously, as if he can’t believe it either.

  Gathering myself, my brow furrows in confusion. “Wait, hold on. What was this meeting? Why was she even there?”

  “It was supposed to be a regional Committee meeting, I thought I told you,” Nick laughs. “But representatives from the whole union ended up being there,” he admits. “I almost chickened out.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t,” I laugh, imagining him telling Carole Berg off in front of who knows how many people. “So what did she say?”

  “Here’s the thing, Kate. This is so much bigger than us. Our experience, I’m realizing, is just a microcosm of what is happening all over our union. Reversal is being used aggressively, and not justifiably in my estimation. Berg didn’t do their due diligence and people are suffering. I can’t trust them with my treatment. I can’t feel good about handing that information over to people whose priorities are skewed. I explained that in the meeting and garnered more support from other Committee members than I could have anticipated. That is worth fighting for. We are a silent minority and we need to stand up for the integrity of Tier 1.”

  “It’s admirable of you, and honestly, I want to hear more about what you have planned, but the blood is pounding in my head so loudly that I can’t focus, Nick. I can’t force myself to care about Tier 1 right now! Knowing that our family is in the balance somehow...please tell me the terms. Put me out of my misery,” I groan.

  “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks and it’s all new to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you into the loop sooner.”

  I nod, urging him to go on.

  “I told Carole that I would be happy to pass on the details of my procedure if they made this information about reversal and excess resources public, informed all patients who had been treated without consent, and—“ he pauses, swallowing, “—restored you and Tal to your original family unit.”

  Heat rises to my face. “Did they agree?” I ask softly.

  “That was Carole who has been calling all morning. She agreed. With some caveats. That’s what we need to discuss.”

  I throw myself into Nick’s arms, nearly hyperventilating as relief washes over me. No part of me cares that I am being selfish right now. I should care. I should be ecstatic that Nick is holding the Committee accountable, that he is attempting to correct the pride that has crept into our system, but all I can think of is Eric. And Tal.

  Will they even remember me? What if I meet them and they have no idea who I am? Where will we go? What will our life look like? Relief quickly mixes with panic, my mind reeling with potential possibilities.

  I pull back, attempting to breathe normally. “Nick, how? And when? What—“

  “Take a minute, Kate. Just breathe,” he encourages, brushing his fingers through my hair. I allow my eyelids to drift closed, my face pressed against his chest. As difficult as it is to admit, I have come to depend on Nick. I care about and respect him deeply. Watching him parent, witnessing him consistently giving of himself to help others, being willing to make mistakes and try again. Eric is my partner—my pair—but Nick is a dear friend. One that is potentially putting his life on the line for me. What will Berg do with him once they have their information? My hands go cold. This time, the discomfort that pulls at my heart is for him.

  “Nick,” I say softly, my breathing returning to normal. “What does this mean for you?”

  “I haven’t thought that far,” he answers truthfully. “I know this is right, Kate. That’s it. I figure the rest will fa
ll into place, or—they will find a way to silence me,” he says with a sardonic laugh. “Either way, I’ve done what I can.”

  “Do you honestly think they would go that far?”

  “I didn’t think they were capable of what they have already done, so in my mind, anything’s possible,” he sighs. “But, I do have hope. There were enough people who seemed to support me. Maybe we aren’t too far gone.”

  Stretching my neck, I turn over and lay my head in his lap, staring at the ceiling. Streams of light filter in through the back window, creating a juxtaposition of peace and clarity against the muddy unknowns swirling through my mind.

  “Okay,” I say, finally ready. “Give me the details.”

  “Let’s go outside,” he suggests, lifting my head. I obediently follow him to the yard and stretch out on a shaded chair. Nick sits across from me.

  “Let me say everything before you jump in, if that’s alright? It’s not all going to be easy to hear.”

  I nod, bracing myself. My mind races through the myriad worst-case scenarios. We are put into Tier 3? Wait, there isn’t a Tier 3 anymore. Tier 2 then? That wouldn’t be that bad. What other options are there? I shudder.

  “They have agreed for you to be reconnected with Eric and Tal,” Nick begins. “At first, Carole insisted that I treat you—removing all memories of your life here with me—but I rejected that. It is a moot point, given...well, given her other condition.” Nick rubs his hands along the arms of the chair, building up to something. “Kate, your family will be reunited, but you won’t be able to participate within the Tier system.”

  My eyebrows furrow. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means, you will be on your own.”

  “On our own—how? Like we can’t use any resources?” I blurt out.

  “Don’t jump in, remember? Let me get this all out. You will be given space in old Tier 3 territory. Abandoned, but safe to use. Soil toxicity will be mitigated, you will have a water source, seeds, some raw materials that have been left there. Shelter, obviously. But you will be opting out of the union. On your own. No communication, no assistance. Berg refuses to support any part of this, but will allow you to go through with it without any repercussions.”

  “Those sound like some pretty intense repercussions,” I mutter.

  “Kate—”

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry. Go on.”

  “Your family will be reunited. You, Bentley, Eric, and Tal.”

  I nod and his eyes seem to be pleading with me. What am I missing?

  “Beth and Leah,” I gasp. “They aren’t going to let me take Beth and Leah,” I repeat, my stomach dropping. “Nick, they are my family. They are my daughters. How can they—”

  “They are both of our daughters, Kate. And they are Eric’s. His research brought them here. And they are Berg’s. By creating our pairing and providing the resources, they argue that the girls don’t ‘belong’ to anyone. Do any of us, really? We are all members of this community, privileged to live here, and charged with a responsibility to improve it. Beth and Leah have to stay in Tier 1 so they can procreate and continue to build a cleaner gene pool—” he stops, noticing my distress. My face, despite my attempts to keep it calm, has twisted in pain, tears streaming down my cheeks. I am frozen like this, unwilling to move in case it breaks me. He’s right, I know he’s right, but I can’t bear the thought of never seeing them again. Never seeing my beautiful girls again.

  “Kate,” he soothes, leaning forward. “In the event that you go forward with this, they will be with me. I will take care of them and give them every opportunity. I know it’s a small consolation, but it’s non-negotiable.”

  “I know,” I whisper, biting my cheeks. “I know. But this is an impossible split. Either option deprives me of people I love—” I gasp for air. “I’m allowed to grieve, Nick. These are my children. I won’t ever get to see them walk or talk in full sentences,” I cough, clutching my mid-section as if someone punched me in the gut. Nick watches me, his knuckles white against the chair.

  “Kate, there’s nothing more I can do,” he pleads, his voice strained. “This is the best I could do—”

  “I’m not accusing you, please don’t take it that way. It’s just terrible. It’s wonderful and terrible and I’m not sure which truth wins. It’s difficult to embrace the wonderful when the terrible is attached to it, you know?” I breathe, barely getting the words out.

  “Oh Kate. I know,” he whispers, his eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you think I know? I am giving up half of my family, too. I know you weren’t ever really mine, but this is all I’ve known. You are all I’ve ever known. And I’m giving it up because it’s the right thing to do, Kate, but there’s not much that feels wonderful to me right now.”

  “Nick, I’m—”

  “There’s nothing to say, Kate! It’s not our fault! That’s what kills me. Somehow, it would be easier if I could blame you, or even me. Or Eric, that would be ideal, honestly, but I can’t! I can’t even blame Berg fully. These genetic pairings will improve society in the future. I don’t agree with their means, but I understand how they thought they could justify it. So, what is there to do? We live it. We feel it. Yes, we hate it, but we have to move forward.” Our eyes are linked, unblinking. “I would normally say something meaningful, like ‘I will support you in whatever path you determine to be best’ but I know what you need to do, and you know it, too. So, I will assure you that the girls will be cared for. I will love them, Kate. I will tell them stories about their incredible, brave mother, and allow them to grow into strong women just like her. I will—” he sucks in a breath, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment, composing himself. “You and Bentley are a part of me forever, and I will love you enough to help you go. That’s it, Kate. That’s all I’ve got.”

  I nod, still biting my cheeks, the taste of iron in my mouth, my arms squeezing my chest, as if trying to keep it from ripping apart.

  “I have to get back to Carole,” Nick says. “Do you agree to Berg’s terms?”

  I nod quickly, still stunned, and see something in Nick’s eyes glaze over.

  “You need to pack your things. You and Bent will leave on Thursday. I will escort you to your new location, set you up with some necessities, and then I will come home. I will...come...home,” he repeats slowly, standing and walking abruptly into the house. Nothing moves. Even the air is still. The pain radiates within me, throbbing rhythmically. Frozen, I stare at the stones of the garden wall, not truly taking them in, just allowing my eyes to rest there. Home. He will come home.

  91 Kate

  Packing. What do I pack? What will I need when we have...nothing? I glance at the two storage cubes in the front hallway. We will need everything. And everything won’t fit into those. Robotically, I comb through each drawer and cupboard looking for necessities. Nick assures me that he will set us up with medical and emergency supplies, so I ignore those. He has also promised one year’s worth of sustenance so we can get our feet under us. Apparently, that’s all Berg could spare. Nick didn’t appreciate my derisive comments about excess resources, so I have been keeping them to myself.

  Moving into the bedroom, I pull out Bentley’s clothes, my body numb. Halfway through his shirts, I hear a rustle in the girls’ room next door. Dropping the shirt in my hands, I rush to them. Leah is rolling around, her legs splayed over Beth’s back. I want desperately to pick her up, but her eyes are still closed, so I wait.

  Her legs twitch, her back arching, as she attempts to find a comfortable position in her sleepy state. Cheeks flushed pink with the heat of sleep, her cherry lips curve around her thumb. Beth breathes evenly, her hair slightly damp against her forehead, small curls forming near her perfect, miniature ears. Try as I might, I can’t memorize it. My eyes slowly scan every inch of them, attempting to burn this image—this feeling, this smell—into my brain forever, but I know it’s futile. It will fade, and I won’t have anything left. Frantic, I begin slowly searching their room.
Finding two of my favorite sleepers, I fold them gently and tip-toe back into the hall, placing them in the cube.

  Back in Bentley’s room, my sensor rings, jolting me from my seated position. Running out to the kitchen to avoid noise near the girls, I answer.

  “Hey Kate,” Shari says, her voice stilted. “I wanted to check-in before you head out tomorrow.”

  Head out? As if I’m going on a vacation? Shari doesn’t know that all of my memories are intact, as far as I am aware. But somehow, we need to acknowledge something real. Leaving this relationship open-ended will nag at me, I know it.

  “Shari, can we cut the pretense and have a real conversation? You have been my mentor my entire life. I am leaving—with zero communication—tomorrow and you are checking in?”

  “That’s as real as it gets, Kate. I’m willing to help, even when you are making the worst mistake of your life,” she says matter-of-factly.

  “Worst mistake? Are you serious right now?”

  “Kate, you are removing yourself from a community that has provided you with everything. Safety, resources, opportunity, relationships. You are walking away from that for one person. One person, when you have so many other people who love you and who I know you care about. Because of the agreements our Committee has made, I have to support it. But I don’t have to pretend I am happy about it.”

  “You think I am walking away because of a person? You don’t get it, Shari,” I say, shaking my head. “For you, it has always been so simple to toe the line. You don’t question, even when you should! Did you hear Nick the other night? The Director, along with many others, has been way out of line. You have worked shoulder to shoulder with him and, as far as I can tell, have said nothing!” I shriek. “You participated in breaking my family apart, as if it was nothing. And even if I could convince myself that that part of it was justifiable, you have been party to countless treatments of aggressive reversal that is not. How could you?” I accuse, my eyes burning. “I am not leaving because of a person, I am leaving because Tier 1 has failed me and I have built a life with people that mean more to me than this system,” I finish, my nostrils flaring with every breath.