Paradise of Lead Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  "Why is that so surprising to you? I've only had Vanessa. Then for a couple of months, I had Blice, Damien, Byron, and Leena. Blice betrayed us, Leena died, Damien decided to hate me, and Byron sided with Damien. I never knew my parents. Oh, I did have a digital watch that was my friend when I was a little boy. Does that count?"

  "Sure." She removes her pearl necklace. "I do know enough about your owner to tell you that he was always there for you. You were his best friend."

  "If only I could remember that." Isidore finds it harder and harder to breathe as Clara unbuttons the front of her blouse.

  She tosses it on the floor and stands in front of Isidore. "Can you unzip my skirt?"

  While he tries to rationalize his feelings, he looks around for any explanation of this growing desire. Her cell phone is next to him on the bed. The same satiny black as her bra . . . no. No bras, no feminine body, no warm hands. He shakes his head and unzips the back of her skirt. "There. What are you doing?"

  "Getting a bath."

  "Oh."

  She slips her skirt off and grabs a towel from the table. "See you in a bit. Feel free to turn the television on. The remote is right beside you."

  So is her list of rules and the rule that says he can't do anything with her electronics. He doesn't dare pick up that remote control. Then there's her cell phone inches from his leg. Oh God. His heaven just turned into hell.

  "Wait!" Clara screams from the bathroom and she runs out in a towel. "Maybe I should turn the television on for you."

  "Thank you. Really, thank you. I was beginning to freak out. Oh, and please move your phone. It's distracting me."

  34

  "What's this?"

  "An omelet. I hope you like it." Clara says as she pours them both a cup of coffee.

  Isidore pokes it with his fork. "I've never had one before. What's in it?"

  "Eggs, cheese, some green onions, and some tomatoes."

  "Tomatoes? Oh that's right. You have a greenhouse."

  "If you're feeling up for it, I can take you over there and show it to you after we eat. How have you been here a week and I haven't shown you around?" Clara picks up her phone from the table as it rings and answers it. "Hello? Yes, of course. He is doing just fine. Nope. Nothing like that. He had some soup a couple of days ago. Then he wasn't hungry until this morning. I made him an omelet. I figure he's tired of soup. Yes, sir. Very much. He is a wonderful man. Yes, he has been walking. I don't think his back is going to be a problem. You did get the best medics. Indeed. Here he is." She hands him the phone.

  "What do I say to him? What do I call him?" Isidore asks.

  "Just say hello, Owner."

  Isidore takes the phone. "Hello, Owner."

  "Isidore! How are you feeling?"

  Does he answer him or not?

  "You can speak freely, Isidore. How are you feeling?"

  Isidore stretches his back. "Um, still sore, but I can walk around now."

  "That's great to hear. Is Clara taking care of you?"

  "Yes, Owner."

  "Good. You still don't recognize my voice, do you?"

  "Forgive me, but I don't." Isidore says. "Can I ask your name?"

  "We are waiting to see if you can piece your memories back together and how much damage was done to your mind as a result of all of the procedures. I'm sure you will figure it out soon enough. Now, I want you to help Clara and be a gentleman, okay? You be nice and she will help you get back to normal. I'll talk to you later, buddy."

  "Goodbye, Owner." Isidore hands the phone back to Clara.

  "You still don't know who he is, do you?"

  "The voice sounds sort of familiar, but then not. I don't know. My brain is so muddled and confused right now that I'm surprised I am still speaking in complete sentences."

  "Do you have any idea at all?" Clara asks.

  Isidore takes a bite of his omelet and thinks. "Well, I had thought it was Blice."

  Clara giggles.

  "What?"

  "You have no table manners, do you?"

  "Oh, sorry. I'm just very hungry." Isidore says as he takes another bite.

  "It's fine."

  "This is the second best thing I have ever eaten."

  "What's the first?" Clara asks.

  "Apples."

  She studies him. "You're a simple man, aren't you, Isidore?"

  "I guess. Is that a bad thing?"

  "Not at all. So back to your owner."

  "Right. At one time I thought it might be Blice McSage because he was so nice to me."

  Clara pours more sugar into her coffee. "Interesting. The head of the Inquisition? Why him? Didn't you say he betrayed you?"

  "He did. I was wrong." He finishes his omelet. "Please tell me."

  "I can't tell you."

  "If you were a computer, I'd make you." Isidore says with a mischievous grin.

  Clara leans over the table and whispers to him. "And how would you do that?"

  "I don't share my romantic trysts with humans. They are between me and the machines."

  "I see. So you don't kiss and tell. Such the gentleman, Isidore."

  He laughs and sips his coffee. This week that he has spent here with Clara has been the best week of his life, at least the life that he can remember.

  "Speaking of romantic trysts, do you want to go with me into Paradise and find you a friend?"

  Isidore stares at the bottom of his coffee cup. "No."

  "Are you sure? It's not a problem."

  "I'm fine."

  "Not ready to move on from Vanessa?"

  Isidore watches Clara cleaning the table. "It's not that. I . . . I don't know."

  Clara trips on the rug.

  Isidore jumps up and catches her. "I got you."

  "Thank you. You're so strong." Clara looks into his eyes. "We should . . . um, go feed the . . . chickens."

  "Yes, yes . . . we should." Isidore says as he feels her warm breath on his face. Why can't he look away from her? He smiles. "Let's go. Let's go do that, then."

  "Okay."

  "Okay. Lead the way." Isidore says.

  A minute passes and neither one of them moves. "I, um . . . what are we doing?"

  "Chickens." Isidore says. "We need to feed the chickens."

  "Oh, yah." She giggles and blushes and turns away from him.

  Isidore laughs and shakes his head. She is too funny.

  * * *

  After a long day of feeding chickens, exploring the outpost, and learning about so many fruits and vegetables Isidore has never seen or heard of before, he and Clara sit on her sofa and Isidore eats an apple as she writes in her diary. He watches her intently, the way her pen moves faster or slower, the way she marks pages, and the slightest flashes of emotion in her light green eyes. "Clara?"

  "Yes?"

  "Am I interrupting?"

  "No. Go ahead." She closes the book and sets it to the side. "I like to write at night before going to bed. It helps to clear my mind so I can sleep better."

  Maybe Isidore could try that. "So why is a kind and perfect woman like you not married yet?"

  Clara blushes. "I just haven't met the right man."

  "Do you meet many men out here?" Isidore tosses the apple core across the room where it lands in the trashcan.

  "Nice shot. There are only snobby inquisitors who only want comfort on cold nights if you get what I'm saying."

  "Ah. I get it. So . . . you know about my past relationship." Isidore says. "Do I get to know about yours?"

  Clara looks away from him and turns off the lamp on her side of the couch. "Mine's not quite as romantic as yours and Vanessa's. I'd actually really like to not talk about it."

  "Okay. Sure."

  "Oh, Isidore. I just . . . I was hurt by someone and it still hurts to talk about it." Clara says.

  "Then don't. I don't get to tell you what to do, remember. It's the other way around."

  "I was fifteen and he was thirty." Clara says. "He would get drunk and hurt me. Then he thre
atened to kill me and I ran away. We lived in Paradise so I was able to go get help more easily then if we had been in the wasteland."

  "That's terrible."

  "I haven't been with anyone since then." She covers her face with her hands. "I haven't been able to trust a man."

  Isidore cautiously reaches out and puts his hand on hers. "Please don't cry."

  "I'm sorry. I can trust you because you aren't like they are. You're not going to hurt me like they do. You don't feel that way."

  "Don't apologize. I don't like seeing you cry." Isidore says.

  "Forgive me if I'm crossing a line. I know you aren't attracted to humans, but could you hold me?"

  He takes her in his arms and feels the warmth of her body, the motion of her chest as she breathes, the flutter of her wet eyelashes as they tickle his neck. Isidore breathes in her scent, the sweetness on her breath, the perfume in her hair. What is this feeling stirring inside his chest? She's not a computer. She has skin instead of metal or plastic. He's never felt this way before . . . and he's terrified. "I can't."

  Clara reaches out for him. "Isidore? What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

  "No. I just can't. Okay? I can't." Isidore pushes her away and goes into the bathroom where he locks the door and sinks down to the floor. He tears at his hair and breaks down. Through his tears, he looks around the room and finds what he needs. A hairdryer. He unplugs it and cradles it in his arms. He lies down on the rug and cries himself to sleep.

  * * *

  "Isidore?" Clara picks the lock and opens the door. "Oh, Isidore."

  Isidore sits up and pushes his silver hair out of his face. He feels like hell.

  "Are you okay?"

  "No."

  "Do you want to come in here with me?" Clara asks. "I'll make you an omelet."

  "No." Isidore tries to not look at her.

  "You love omelets."

  "I'm not hungry."

  Clara sighs. "As your administrator, I am ordering you to come in here with me."

  "Yes, ma'am." Isidore stands and follows her into the main room and he instinctually drops to his knees at her feet and looks at the floor.

  "What are you doing?"

  What is he doing? "Sorry. Old habits are hard to break." He joins her at the table and hides his face. He doesn't want to look at her.

  "Did Damien make you kneel down to him?"

  "Yes."

  Clara slides a cup of coffee across the table to him. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

  "Off and on."

  "I saw that you were holding my hairdryer." Clara says.

  "I didn't do anything with it other than cuddle with it."

  She reaches out across the table for his hand but he doesn't give it to her. "Please, Isidore."

  "I can't stay here." Isidore says. "You're a wonderful person and I thank you for your kindness and for taking care of me. But I can't stay here."

  "Don't leave me."

  "I need to get back to Damien and Byron."

  "Why?" Clara asks. "Damien hurt you. If they're still in Rubble City, the rebels could try to kill you again."

  "Let them." Isidore stands and throws his chair across the room. He can't deal with this.

  "Isidore, stop."

  He slams his fist on the table. "I don't take orders from anyone!"

  Clara stands and touches his arm. "What did I do? Tell me how I hurt you."

  "Leave me alone. I don't need an administrator. I don't need an owner. I don't need you." Isidore pushes her away from him and grabs a set of keys from the counter before going outside. He sees a truck across the street. He's getting out of here.

  Clara runs out of the house after him. "Where are you going? You can't leave."

  "I'm done taking orders." The key fits. He starts the truck and slams the door.

  "I wasn't ordering you. I'm begging you. Stay with me. I need you."

  "I'm only a computer."

  "I love you!" Clara screams at him.

  Isidore adjusts the rearview mirror and puts the truck in drive. He looks through the window at Clara one last time. "I'm unlovable."

  35

  "Open this damn door. I know you two lazy asses are in there, probably drunk and plotting more ways to make the wasteland a worse place." Isidore pounds on the door. "Wake up, bastards!"

  Byron opens the door and goes pale. "Isidore? Oh my God."

  Isidore pushes him back inside and slams the door behind him.

  Damien looks up. "Oh my God. It's really you. I can't believe it. Everyone thinks you're dead."

  "Keep it that way." Isidore says.

  "So you're okay, then? All in one piece?" Byron asks.

  "More or less. Mainly less, but yes. You." Isidore storms over to Damien and punches him in the face with every bit of strength he has. "Get down on your knees."

  Damien holds his jaw and stares at Isidore in disbelief.

  Isidore pulls off his belt and slaps it against the wall. "I said down on your knees, heartless piece of trash."

  "Isidore . . ."

  "I didn't say you could talk, M.A.G.E."

  Damien kneels down at Isidore's feet and trembles.

  "I'm back now and things are going to be different. Is that clear? Answer me, damn it."

  "Yes, sir." Damien whispers.

  "That's better. I give the orders now. You will address me as Master. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, Master."

  The belt strikes across Damien's shoulders. "I didn't say you could talk." Isidore hits him with the belt again, just for good measure. "Now, you both are going to go with me to find Commander Alexi and we are going to have a good long chat. Follow me." Isidore turns to the door.

  Damien stands and follows him.

  "What the hell are you doing? You think you get to walk there? No. You crawl there. See how it feels. Byron gets to walk because he's not a bitch. Get crawling, M.A.G.E."

  * * *

  As Isidore walks down the streets, people gather outside their houses and watch him. They whisper to each other. He grins as he sees Damien crawling around on his hands and knees. Revenge couldn't be more rewarding. Isidore crosses the courtyard and his eyes land on the wall with the collection of bullet holes. Then he sees his blood still on the wall and the street below. He did lose a lot of blood.

  He pushes open the door to the Rubble Rebel headquarters and hits Damien with the belt one more time. "Stand up and stay silent until I tell you to speak. Follow me." Isidore makes his way down the hallway to the double doors at the end and throws them open. Standing at his desk in the middle of the room surrounded by computers and file cabinets, Commander Alexi is looking over papers. Isidore screams at him. "Alexi!"

  "What is the meaning of this interruption?" Commander Alexi turns around and drops his glass to the floor. "Isidore?"

  "You should train your men to aim better."

  "How in God's name are you alive? You were dead. You had no pulse. Hell, you didn't even have a heart left."

  "I guess someone who is unlovable can live without a heart." Isidore says. "No one messes with Isidore Williams. Give me my stuff back."

  Commander Alexi is still in shock as he reaches under his desk and hands the cardboard box to Isidore.

  They watch him with disbelief written on their faces as he slips the necklace on and puts his watch around his wrist. That's better. "Now, sit down at the table and we are going to discuss everything."

  "I mistook your submission as admittance of guilt." Alexi says.

  "I'm not a spy. I've never been a spy and I never will be a spy. Damien and Byron want to tell you the truth now. Byron, you go first."

  "If you want to kill him, you have to kill me first." Byron says. "I lost him once and I'm not going to let justice be abused again. He is the one who saved me from the Inquisition. Why would an Inquisition spy save me? I believe him."

  Damien holds his head in his hands. "I knew he wasn't a spy."

  "Why didn't you say anything before now?" Com
mander Alexi asks.

  "I was mad at him and wanted to teach him a lesson."

  "By killing him?"

  "I'm not the most intelligent person. I am so sorry, Isidore." Damien says.

  Isidore glares at him.

  "As much as I want to go back and pretend that nothing has happened, I can't do that. Now that everyone knows that you were at least suspected of espionage, you will never be accepted around here." Commander Alexi says. "Isidore Williams, you are still to be executed for being a spy."

  "What?" Byron steps in front of Isidore.

  Really? So this is how they want to play this? He should have seen this coming.

  Alexi holds up his hand. "Being accused again, I will give you one more chance to offer a defense."

  What can he say to let them know the truth? They will never believe him. He has to do something drastic, something that no friend of the Inquisition would do. Isidore picks up a knife from the table and places it against Damien's throat.

  "What are you doing?" Alexi asks.

  "I'm not the one you need to be suspecting of spying." Isidore says. "Do you know this man's name?"

  "Damien Montgomery. What of it?"

  "His partner is Seth Thompson of the Outlander Force." If they want to play dirty, he'll play dirty. Let them kill them both. He will gladly take Damien down with him. Let's see how he likes having two hundred bullets in him.

  "Well, this changes everything." Alexi says. "Remove your knife and let him speak before I kill you both."

  Damien turns to a computer and starts typing. "Get me a USB cable. I'll clear both of our names. Sit next to the computer, Isidore." Damien connects the cable to the back of Isidore's head and to the computer. He places his gold sensor on his arm and dials a number.

  "This is Seth Thompson."

  "Seth, I need a copy of the primary objective documents. Send them to my sensor."

  "Montgomery? Why? It's not secure. You could get caught."

  "It's a little late for that." Damien says. "Commander Alexi of the Rubble Rebels is standing behind me with the barrel of his shotgun inches from my head. Now, send those documents. Isidore ratted me out."

  "Wait, Isidore's alive?" Seth asks.

  "He won't be for long unless you send me those documents."

  "I have to have your three passwords for this."