by Shanon Hunt
As she turned to face him, her eye caught a suitcase next to the door. “Where are you going?”
“The States. We’re looking at a possible new facility in Iowa.”
James had been spending a lot of time traveling to evaluate and establish new sites. It was a good sign that Eugenesis was growing, and since James was so senior in the organization and most knowledgeable about Colony operations, he was the only one the council trusted for this important task. Even though she was used to long stretches without him, she still missed his companionship.
“Just a few days,” he said, “and you’ll be so busy you won’t even notice I’m gone.”
That part was certainly true. Layla’s days had gotten longer and longer. Between recruiting and the purification program, she was spread thin.
Marissa swept into the room and sidled up to Layla to examine her makeup. “Showtime. It’s a good one today, eleven hundred or so. Justin has the room practically vibrating with excitement, which is amazing since it’s after lunch.” She scowled. “Ew, you’re shiny.”
James stepped aside as Marissa swooped in on Layla’s forehead with a fluffy brush of loose powder. “See you in a couple of days, beautiful girl.”
“Bye, handsome, I can’t wait,” Marissa replied with a wave.
Layla giggled. Marissa’s witty verve made her outshine everyone around her, a confidence that followed her from her poisoned life, no doubt, something Layla would never have.
Layla’s makeup artistry evidently left something to be desired, because Marissa snatched the bag away and fished until she found a pencil. “A lot of questions have been coming in about social media connections with the poisoned world. Maybe you could address that?”
“Gotcha,” Layla said through pinched lips as Marissa drew on lip liner.
“Oh, and there’s been a bit of panic about the wolves and coyotes. Can you do a quick reassurance that we’re all safe in here?”
“Sure thing.”
“We have a full agenda today, so keep it short and punchy. Up-up, time to go.” Marissa clipped on a wireless headset mic and fixed Layla’s hair one last time.
Layla was usually tense when lecturing an audience this size, but she relaxed as they entered the wings and she heard the yelling and excitement. Stage Ones were the toughest crowd; they tended to be skeptical and suspicious of the Colony’s motivations and its cult-like traditions. It was so much easier to impress them after they’d been warmed up by a pro, and she was profoundly grateful for her PR team.
“Ready.” She smiled and stepped onto the stage.
She squinted into the bright stage lights, smiling broadly and waving, even though she couldn’t see a single face. God, she’d come a long way. She could remember sitting in the audience for these keynote talks like it had been yesterday. James had conducted them back then, back in the days when she’d been so shy she couldn’t even make eye contact as she stuttered a barely audible Hi, Brother James.
She held out her arms, palms up. “Welcome to the most exclusive club on Earth!”
The Colony slogan had been another of her brilliant ideas. If they were to convince people to join them, they had to put a stake in the ground: Either this was the most exclusive club on Earth, or they were just some fanatical desert cult. Go big or go home.
The applause went on too long, so Layla gestured for them to quiet down and sit. She hadn’t planned her speech for today, but she was good on her feet once she got over the initial stage fright.
“With pain comes peace.” Her voice reverberated through the expectant auditorium. “Thank you for being here. Thank you for dedicating yourselves to the process of purification.” She paused for another round of applause but cut it off quickly. She had a lot of ground to cover, and Marissa would be giving her the throat-slitting gesture soon enough.
She waddled as gracefully as she could around the stage, speaking dreamily to the floor. “As I stepped out here today, I was flooded with the memory of the day I was sitting out there, just like you. But it wasn’t in this grand lecture hall. It wasn’t even on this beautiful site here in Mexico. It was in a small dark room in a desert town back in the States, among maybe twenty or thirty inductees. I listened to the vision of the Colony directly from Brother James.”
This got a single “Woo!” The crowd laughed.
“Oh, good! I’ll let him know he has a second fan.”
This got a bigger laugh. By now, most inductees would’ve seen them holding hands around the campus, and they might have assumed she was having James’s baby, not one that had been created in a lab and implanted in her uterus.
“Brother James told us that we would work harder and suffer more than we ever had before,” she continued. “He told us that pain would be a welcome experience, something we’d learn to desire, not avoid, and it would open our minds to bigger and better experiences. Many were skeptical of this, and many couldn’t learn to accept pain as a positive experience. Those inductees left us.”
As expected, several people booed. One of the many mindset changes the Colony cultivated was a sense of superiority: us versus them, the pure versus the impure. Inductees were encouraged to disdain those not selected to be pure. It helped them abandon their poisoned life.
“That part is still true. Some of you will not find a home here. Purification will not be your path. And you know what? That’s okay. Our facility has grown not only in numbers but in purpose.”
She took a moment to catch her breath, as the little guy pushed her lungs into her throat. “Most of you have arrived here from a disadvantaged situation. So many of you are victims of poverty, broken homes, drug pushers. You were stuck in a world filled with poison, a place where opportunity and wealth are only available to a select few, where doors are not opened without the right connections.”
She was surprised by the silence. No indignation about the injustice of it all. She’d have to remember those lines for her next group of Stage Ones.
“But here you’ll come to understand that your personal growth is entirely up to you. Everyone here—and I mean everyone—has an identical chance to achieve the highest designations in the Colony. And while you’re growing mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, you’ll also be contributing to the vision and mission of the Colony: to save the human race.”
This line got thunderous applause, and she took the opportunity to summon her support crew. Her stomach felt crampy, and she needed to sit down. She circled her index finger at Marissa, who always seemed to read her mind, and Marissa dashed away.
“A recruit recently asked me an excellent question the other day. ‘Sister Layla,’ he said, ‘Why is our presence here secret if the work we’re doing is so important? Is it illegal?’ ”
A stagehand scurried over, set down a stool, and handed her a bottle of water. Perfect. She leaned back on the stool, taking the pressure off her lower abdomen.
“I explained to him that laws are set by the local governments, and every government has its own problems to deal with and presidents with egos and personal agendas. But as you’ll come to learn, our exclusive club isn’t affected by local governments. The organization that funds and leads this colony, and the many other colonies, is a global alliance operating outside the limitations of any country. Our global alliance has one single objective for one of the most important global initiatives that exists today. That puts us above the law.”
That was all they needed to understand. It would give them a sense of security, but it would also underscore the Colony’s influence. They were part of an extremely powerful organization. Once they were fully indoctrinated, the alliance superpower concept would fade to a vague idea. As their weakened minds and bodies struggled to hold on to reality, they’d more readily embrace the long-standing spiritual figurehead of the Colony, the Father. The strategy had worked for years, and no one planned to change it.
“We employ the best and brightest scientists, who’ve given up their lives in the poisoned wor
ld to fully dedicate themselves to the purification of the human race, just as you have. Our work here is so crucial that we will always be protected behind these walls, protected from the poisoned world in all ways. I know the howling wolves out there sound threatening, but you have nothing to be afraid of. Our walls and steel gates cannot be penetrated.”
She raised a fist, eliciting a cheer. God, she loved her job sometimes. “And I know some of you worry that this is all too good to be true, too good to last. That someone will take it down. But this I can promise you: The global power behind this organization will keep you safe and happy, enabling you to fully dedicate yourself to your path toward perfection and purification.”
This was a good spot for a dramatic pause. She took a long drink of ice-cold water.
You’re Allison Stevens. You killed a cop.
A droplet of water landed on her chin as her lips popped free of the bottle. Shaken, she looked over at Marissa.
Marissa mouthed social media thing.
Right.
“And what does it mean to fully dedicate yourself? It means when you come inside our walls and accept our challenge to embark on the process of purification, you leave the poisoned world outside. That’s a huge commitment, I know. Many of you have left friends and family. But they’re not on your path. They’re not struggling and suffering with the daily schedule you endure. They don’t understand, and they don’t have what it takes. They don’t have a fire inside them.”
“But you do.” She stabbed a finger at the blinding light. “When you chose this, you chose the exclusive club. You chose a new family, a new circle of friends, and a better world. You chose to release your poisoned life.”
A chant broke out. “Release your poisoned life! Release your poisoned life!”
She had no doubt that Justin started it, but within seconds the auditorium was pulsing. “Release your poisoned life!”
She silenced them again. “Here, we’re creating a better world, for us and our children and their children. So why do we keep it a secret? Because everything outside our walls is impure, poison—no, toxic. Our club is exclusive, and we don’t want just anyone banging down our doors, now, do we?”
She could have continued, but she felt this was a perfect high point for her to exit. Mic drop, as Justin would say. She waved and blew some kisses as the crowd clapped and stomped.
Just before she stepped backstage she heard a single snap, as if someone had thumped her on the back of her head. She whirled around and took a few steps back toward the center. The stage was empty. But that thump—it made her blood boil, and the audience’s applause ground on her nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. Unbelievably, a howl of fury was building in her throat.
Stabbing pain in her groin ripped her breath away. She folded over, nearly falling to the ground, eyes pinching shut.
Screams from the audience made her lift her head. Marissa and two men were surging from the wings, panic on their faces. She looked down again.
Her dazzling white skirt was turning stark red.
7
October 2022, Mexico
“The baby is fine.”
Layla rolled over in her hospital bed as Dr. Farid entered her room.
“The heart rate is normal, and there are no signs of fetal distress.” The doctor smiled at her. “As for you, you’re also fine. Placenta previa is not uncommon, and it will most likely resolve. As long as we monitor it closely, you’ll be able to carry full term.”
Layla seemed to dissolve into the bed. She hadn’t realized how tense she was. The fetus she carried was the single most significant advancement that had occurred in the field of genetics, the first pure human baby of the F1 generation, genetically edited to possess qualities that would better serve the human race. Sadly, it was her second attempt to deliver a prototype, but she no longer mourned the stillborn baby she’d carried last year. That had been an important step toward this scientific breakthrough, and it was an honor like none other to be chosen for such a purpose. She was like Eve in the Christian Bible’s Garden of Eden.
Dr. Farid jotted something down in her chart. “You’ll be on bed rest for the rest of your pregnancy.”
Layla’s relief turned to dismay. “No, no…” She closed her eyes. The timing couldn’t be worse. There were incoming recruits on top of everything she’d packed into this month, knowing she’d be out for delivery and time with the baby before returning to work.
“What’s most important, that child or your obsessive work ethic?” Dr. Farid raised her eyebrows. “I’ll keep you here in the infirmary overnight, and tomorrow we’ll get you set up in the comfort of your own house. I’m sure you have plenty of reading to catch up on.” She gave Layla a squeeze on the shoulder and left her alone.
She’d have to call Mia first thing. And who would cover the intakes? What about coddling the inductees? And the staff meetings…
We grew up together in Madison.
“Leave me alone!” She shut her eyes tightly, as if it might squeeze the voice right out of her head. She wished she could erase that awkward ten minutes of Vanessa Sykes from her mind. She’d made a conscious decision to release her poisoned life before her purification. She knew she had a past—obviously, everyone had a past—but it simply didn’t matter anymore. Her past didn’t define her; her future did. Her purpose within the Colony walls was all that mattered, so she’d eagerly and willingly shoved what few memories of her poisoned life she had into her unconscious mind and moved on.
Until yesterday. Why was this plaguing her now?
I saw you on the news. You killed a police officer.
That just couldn’t be true. She wasn’t capable of killing anyone. But Vanessa Sykes hadn’t been lying about knowing her—her nickname, her father’s death. There was no doubt about that.
She pressed the button to lower her headrest and rolled onto her side.
“With pain comes perfection. With perfection comes purification. This is the Father’s will for me. As a pure, I am responsible for the purification of the Colony and the propagation of purity into the world. This is the Father’s will for me.”
The chant was an old one from her earliest days at the Colony, but it was still her favorite. She’d learned it the first day of her purification, and she fondly remembered the overwhelming sense of peace and happiness of that day, the warm embrace of the pures who supported her and welcomed her into their family.
It was also the first time she’d met the Father, the spirit and brains behind the Colony and Eugenesis. The moment had been magical, like a child catching Santa Claus sliding down the chimney, and she’d enshrined the encounter for months, until the inevitable day she learned her Santa was just a man wearing a suit. It had taken months to recover from her sense of loss. The magic was gone, but her purpose and devotion were stronger than ever. The Father’s vision for the Colony and its contribution to the human race was nothing short of genius.
This was where she belonged. There was nothing for her in the poisoned world.
She rolled to her other side, searching for a position that would make the active fetus stop stretching and bruising her insides. The little devil wanted to do aerobics every time she wanted to sleep. Maybe he’d be athletic. A runner, like her. She grimaced and rolled out of bed. More likely, he’d be a boxer.
She paced the small room, hoping the movement would lull him into a relaxed state. She idly opened the cupboards and drawers, inspecting the contents. Maybe someone had left a book behind. No luck. She unhooked her chart, which hung at the foot of her bed, and resumed pacing as she tried to decipher Dr. Farid’s chicken-scratch handwriting.
A label in the patient information section caught her attention: Carrier Strain: Sensus 253/380.
Dr. Farid hadn’t been the physician in charge of the implantation of the fetus. Dr. De Luca, an older physician with a full white beard and an Italian accent, was the physician in charge, a world-renowned fertility expert. He’d never mentioned the word sensus
, as far as she could remember. The baby will be pure, Layla. Just like you, only better. Physically and mentally superior to all of us.
What was a sensus?
Her phone vibrated, and she waddled back to her bed to dig it from the covers. She sighed with relief. “James. Did you hear?”
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I feel terrible for not being there with you tonight. Are you okay? Are you in pain?”
For some strange reason, his soothing voice made her feel fragile. She hated the infirmary, and she desperately wished he was here holding her hand and running his fingers through her hair, the way he had the last time she’d been in the infirmary. The day she’d lost the first fetus.
Her chin quivered as she tried to hold back tears. “No, I’m okay,” she said in her little girl voice. “Are you in Iowa yet?” Maybe he’d come back for her.
“No. There was a problem with my flight, and I had to do a connection in Houston.”
“Oh, what, they didn’t have a first-class seat for you?” She smiled at her wit. It was something Marissa might have said.
“Worse. They didn’t have any booze on the plane.”
She chuckled. James didn’t even drink. His favorite party joke, which she’d heard a hundred times, was Why should I drink alcohol when I can be this much of a dork without it?
“You gonna be okay until I get back, beautiful girl?”
She was about to ask if there was any way he could cut his trip short when the fetus gave her a sharp kick in the ribs. She bent at the hips. “Argh, I can’t get to the end of this pregnancy fast enough.” Her gaze landed back on her chart. “James, what is a sensus strain? It says that on my chart. Carrier strain sensus two-fifty—"
“Oh, looks like my flight is boarding. I love you, Lay. Hang in there. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”