by J. R. Harber
“I’d certainly hope so! You brought back a good one, Asa—you’re a lucky man.”
Asa grinned and took Eve’s hand under the table.
“You have no idea how lucky,” he said.
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand; she was beginning to look more relaxed already, and his heart lifted.
“Are you going to have a baby right away?” Hannah asked eagerly, and Sarah shot her a warning look.
“That’s their own business, Hannah,” she said, but Eve laughed.
“It’s okay. We will if we’re lucky,” she said.
“And if you’re luckier still, the baby will take after its mother!” Isaac joked. “Who’s hungry?”
Later, after dinner was finished and Isaac and Sarah had gone off to bed, Hannah gave Asa a fierce hug, then seized Eve just as eagerly. “I always wanted a sister,” Asa heard her whisper to Eve, then Hannah slipped off to her bedroom, finally leaving them alone.
Asa closed the door to his childhood bedroom. Eve sat on his bed and abruptly began to cry. Asa hurried to her.
“What’s wrong? I’m sorry, I know they can be a little much, especially Dad, but … we won’t have to live with them for long. There’s a small inn near the square. We can stay there until the house is built …”
He trailed off; Eve was shaking her head. She sighed and wiped her eyes.
“Your family is wonderful, Asa. We can stay with them as long as you want. I just … I never thought I could have all of this.” He hugged her, and she buried her face in his shirt for a moment, then straightened.
“This is everything I ever wanted,” she whispered.
“You’re everything I ever wanted,” he whispered back.
He kissed her, and with a contented sigh, she lay back and pulled him down beside her. She ran her fingers lightly down his chest, and he gasped with a sudden swell of desire. He brushed back her hair and traced his thumb down her cheek; she still stunned him with her beauty.
A lifetime of her smile, a lifetime of her touch. A lifetime with Eve, always.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
GABRIEL BLINKED IN THE BRIGHT SUNLIGHT as he stepped out of the darkness and into the alley. The noise of Horizon swelled around him: shouts and movement and laughter, all jostling against one another. It had been days since he climbed out of the river and started the long journey back to the city.
His shoulder ached where the shot had gone through it, but, in a distant way, pain had become a manageable constant. He had cleaned and sealed the wound, along with more than a dozen other cuts and scratches he’d gotten as he was dragged, unconscious, down the river. The river.
The Bug had not begun to devour his mind. Would I know if it had? he wondered from time to time as he made his way back home, but it was only an idle thought. He believed David had told him the truth about the vaccine. Gabriel no longer feared the untreated water.
Gabriel touched the codebook in his breast pocket reflexively. During his long journey back from Sanctuary, he’d gone over the things David had shown him incessantly. At times, they seemed preposterous, but at other times, they seemed like the only way to make sense of the world.
I have to know for myself. See it for myself. The thought ran through his head in a loop.
He stepped out into the street, half-conscious of the unnerving hush as the crowd parted before him. He oriented himself quickly, then set off. He walked steadily, not looking from side to side as he took the familiar turns, then stopped at the edge of a small clear plaza. Gabriel tapped his finger against the book in his pocket again, then strode toward the shining edifice of Municipal 1.
As he crossed the open space, he was vaguely aware that people were coming toward him. They were all Authority Figures, dressed in crisp black suits and speaking calmly to him as he walked on, ignoring them.
“Excuse me!”
“Are you all right?”
“You’re bleeding. Are you okay?”
“Gabriel? Gabriel, is that you?”
Gabriel did not turn to see who had spoken his name but pushed open the wide, heavy front doors of the building and walked straight to the elevators.
“Authorization Gabriel Ward,” he said hoarsely, the first words he’d spoken aloud in days.
The glass elevator door slid open and closed behind him. He saw two Security Enforcers hurrying to catch up.
“Lock door,” Gabriel said and took the codebook from his pocket. “Open manual override panel, authorization—” He hesitated.
Behind him, someone knocked on the door from the outside, shouting something too muffled to understand. Gabriel cleared his throat.
“Authorization David Pasternak, open manual override.” He held his breath for a moment.
You can’t falsify a voice print, he thought, almost at the point of panic. Then a small rectangular panel sprung open in the sidewall of the elevator.
“Confirm, David Pasternak,” said the smooth voice of the elevator autom.
Gabriel started breathing again and opened the codebook. It had been mostly undamaged by the fall into the water; what looked like old-fashioned paper must have been an insoluble polymer, and the ink had only smudged a little here and there.
Quickly, Gabriel keyed in the long series of numbers and symbols. As soon as he had finished, the elevator began to rise. It passed the normally accessible levels and kept going straight to the top floor, gaining speed along the way.
When it stopped, the door remained closed.
“Open door,” Gabriel said nervously, and the back of the elevator slid open.
Gabriel whirled around, bracing instinctively for an attack, but there was only an empty hallway. He gripped the codebook tightly in his hand and cautiously touched the weapon he’d taken from the Waste.
I should have left it out in the desert, he thought. He had intended to, but every time he thought to bury it in the dirt or leave it among the barren rocks, something stopped him. I can always get rid of it later, he had told himself. He squared his shoulders, then stepped cautiously out into the hallway.
It stretched out wide in both directions; the walls on either side were floor-to-ceiling murals of pastoral life, intricately painted to represent the outlying communities. One scene faded into another seamlessly, so as Gabriel walked, he watched as the snowy forest of Rosewood in winter faded into the lush green of Fairfield in summer, which soon became a festival in the central park of Horizon.
The painted people looked joyful, and as Gabriel peered at them, he thought he recognized a few of the faces, though no one he could name. Under his feet was a thick, bright-blue carpet that looked untouched, and at the end of the hallway was the only door in sight—a heavy wooden door that looked somehow both stately and humble. As Gabriel approached it, he saw a sign; the words were carved into the wood itself, blackened with ash and lacquered over.
Official Office
Chancellor of the State
Beside the door was a small panel with letters and numbers, and again Gabriel consulted the book and entered the appropriate code, glancing back toward the elevator every few seconds.
Someone must know I’m here, he thought. Someone must be coming. But no one came.
The blue light of a scanner flickered over his face, then a lock clicked open. Gabriel put the book back in his pocket, pushed the door open, and slowly stepped into the dark room.
His hip banged against something hard, and Gabriel ground his teeth as he felt a cut begin to seep blood again. Abruptly, the room lit up, and he drew back in surprise, shoving the door closed behind him.
The room was the size of a large closet, crammed with racks of computer equipment—some resembling the things David had in his home, others wholly alien. Only a few square feet in the middle were open, and at the center of that small space stood the Chancellor himself.
The Chancellor smiled and spread his arms wide in a gesture of welcome; Gabriel watched dazedly as his hand seemed to pass straight through a large, blocky piece of
equipment.
It is true. Everything David told me is true.
“Hello Gabriel,” the Chancellor said warmly. “I’ve been expecting you.”
For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief. Then he composed himself and met the Chancellor’s familiar blue eyes with his own. The Chancellor calmly motioned him forward, and Gabriel began to smile.
END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special thanks to:
My parents, Reynolds and Gloria, for all the love and support they’ve always given me. Thanks for staying that extra night at the lake house all those years ago. Without that night together and a few bottles wine, I probably wouldn’t have been here to write this book. Dad, I hope Amazon has figured out a way to sell books in heaven. If not, I’m sure it will soon.
My uncle Jeff and my uncle Jim. They both spent a lot of time reading this book in its infancy and giving me much-needed feedback and the confidence to keep writing.
All my friends and loved ones, especially Christina. She was sitting beside me when the crazy idea for this book entered my brain. She listened graciously for hours on end while I talked through every character and plot twist. Thanks for letting me ramble.
All my animals, whom I love dearly, the ones who are here and the ones who have passed. Every day, they give me unconditional love, the most powerful thing in the world.
The people everywhere who are working hard to make this world a better place. To those people who are providing a helping hand to the less fortunate and fighting to protect our planet from environmental disaster, please keep it up. This world will never be perfect, but it can always be better.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J. R. HARBER is a writer, humanitarian, philanthropist, and environmental advocate. He believes it is vital for society to take a more common-sense approach to how we live and consume resources to ensure a world worth living in for future generations. When he’s not exploring ideas for new writing projects, J. R. dedicates much of his time advocating for stronger environmental and watershed protections and directing his nonprofit animal rescue and rehabilitation center in Georgia.