by Joss Ware
Simon could also have told Theo that he had absolutely no interest in Sage, that his own unbreakable personal code included never, ever poaching on a friend’s—or boss’s—woman, and that he’d been in even more tenuous situations in the past…but he didn’t. He thought it would be best not to even put the thought in the other guy’s mind.
Let Geek Squad simply worry about her safety, not also about her affections. In either case, she was in no danger.
In order to expedite the trip, Theo had driven Sage and Simon most of the way to Falling Creek in an old humvee. He and Elliott had stolen the truck from the Strangers a few weeks ago, and it had become the Resistance’s first official vehicle—kept hidden from prying eyes and used only when necessary. In this world, no one but Strangers had access to automobiles or fuel so they kept it under wraps so as not to draw attention to themselves.
Not that it made much difference, because what was left of the roads were fucked up so badly it was almost better to not to drive at all.
Jade preferred horseback, but she had a way with the wild mustangs and could capture them almost every time she needed one. Hiking was still the most common mode of transportation, since people didn’t travel around all that much. Danger from the gangas, decrepit buildings, and wild animals kept everyone cloistered in their settlements or small villages.
Which was why the communications network the Waxnickis were building was so important to tie the human race together.
The trip in the humvee had been horrendously bumpy and jarring—due partly to the speed at which Theo drove—and Simon was sure that Sage was going to puke at any given moment. She hadn’t, but she’d looked pretty pasty for most of it.
Driving through the overgrown, destroyed streets, towns, highways, and suburbs was still a surreal experience for Simon. Reminders of twenty-first-century America were everywhere—overgrown and cracked mall and theater parking lots, random letters of now-playing movies still hanging onto their signs like tenacious claws. But they were so few that he couldn’t figure out the crossword puzzle of the titles, except one that said IR N M N 2.
Iron Man 2, a movie he’d actually seen, having slipped into a theater during his flight from Mancusi and East Los in an attempt to shake off his pursuers. A half-century ago, and not the best of choices considering its loud violence.
He had enough of that in real life.
After driving them more than forty miles, Theo had stopped in a large, thick forest that might once have been a park with neat pathways, bike trails, resting benches, swings and slides and a skateboard park. An old garbage can sat, rusted and covered with moss, next to a row of equally rusted cars and minivans. Picnic tables and decrepit outhouses sat amid tall grass and eager trees.
Simon and Sage would walk the rest of the way—about four miles—and approach FC on foot so as not to garner any added attention. Simon had turned and walked away while Theo was saying good-bye to Sage, trying not to think about the fact that he was going to be responsible for her—which meant constantly in her proximity—for at least a week.
Pinche.
But, hell, if he could resist the beautiful, insistent Florita’s bold attentions—even after she ordered him to help her with her dress (getting out of it, on more than one occasion), and when she slid into his bed one night after he’d had too many whiskeys—Simon knew he’d have no problem keeping his distance from the unassuming Sage.
He was on a job, and it wasn’t as if Sage was going to be sliding into his bed or even giving him languishing looks like Florita had. Yes, she was gorgeous. Yes, her smile made his heart go berserk. And, yes, she had a brain to go along with a killer body that was just the slightest bit klutzy…But she’d never look twice at the likes of him.
Especially when she had buff, brilliant, nice Dragon Boy waiting for her.
Especially if she ever learned who he really was.
Simon looked at her, realizing she’d never answered his question. “So. Falling Creek. What do I need to know that I don’t already?”
She nodded and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. She’d gone for almost a mile without tripping. If she were Florita, she’d trip on purpose, just so she could brush up against him, maybe grab a handful of ass. “After the Change, there was a big argument about how to reinstate humanity, that we needed to repopulate the earth with humans. After all, the race had nearly been wiped out.”
“Not just from the earthquakes and storms,” Simon said, scanning the area of ghost-towned, overgrown subdivisions. Listening. “But some sort of disease or epidemic?”
“No one’s sure what caused it. Lou and Theo were there when it happened, so what I know comes from them. They said that about three days after the Change, people just started dying for no apparent reason. Either something was in the air, some sort of poison or gas was released during the Change or something…but whatever it was, some people who survived the cataclysmic events didn’t make it.”
“Obviously a few did.”
“But not many. They think more people died from the poison than the actual Change,” Sage told him. “Anyway, in Envy, there were two brothers, Robert and Kevin Corrigan. They were friends with a guy named Marck—Raul Marck’s father, I think. They survived the Change and believed that nothing was more important than to procreate and repopulate. I guess they were afraid another epidemic might happen and wipe out the rest of them. Everyone agreed, but most people didn’t subscribe to their ideas of breeding schedules and actually regimenting the process. Some people were more interested in making sure we had food and shelter.”
“Sort of like the opposite of the Chinese single-child mandate,” Simon said.
“There were lots of arguments about it, and Marck ran for mayor of Envy. He didn’t win, and when, afterward, he tried to force the council into supporting his ideas, he and the Corrigans were run out of town.”
“So they took their ideas and started their own settlement in Falling Creek.”
“Right. The basic tenets of the Falling Creek commune is that everyone marries as soon as they reach puberty, and they have as many babies as possible. If someone isn’t able or willing, they’re expected to leave.”
“Sounds like the potential for a lot of in-breeding.”
She shook her head. “No, they’re actually very careful about that. Records are kept so they can manage the genetic mixing. And they bring in new blood whenever they can.”
Simon looked over at her. “So…what’s the big deal with being a Corrigan?”
She pressed her lips together. “The Corrigan brothers were redheaded, pale skinned, and had these awful blue eyes—and they were also very, very fertile. Between the two of them, they fathered more than eighty children in a single generation at Falling Creek. There are lots of Corrigans.”
Eighty children?
“And most of them had red hair and blue eyes?”
“Strong genes,” she replied. “Kevin had six wives, and Robert had eight, until one of them died. In childbirth. Marck had five wives of his own, and fathered twenty children.”
Holy Mother of God.
A cult. FC sounded like a damned cult. No wonder Theo had been concerned.
No wonder people stared at her, and made assumptions.
As if reading his mind, she continued in a matter-of-fact voice. “That’s why outsiders think the worst of Corrigans—especially the Corrigan women. Their philosophy implies that the simple, singular purpose of women is to breed and bear children.”
Which of course meant sex. Regularly. For a single purpose. So if a person was obviously a Corrigan, she was obviously a brood mare. Meant for sex.
No, Simon didn’t need Sage to fill in the blanks. It wasn’t any different from the old prejudice of black or Hispanic women being easy. Or Asian women being good in bed. The thought made him sick.
“You said they bring in new blood,” he said after a while, when he could trust his voice to be cool. “People actually agree to live like that?”
; “Yes. Well, as I recall, it’s more men than women who are attracted to the idea of polygamy,” Sage said, giving him a sidewise smile that nearly made him stumble.
Yeah. “If you’d have mentioned that part, I might have had to fight Fence to go with you.” Holy fuck, what the hell are you saying? Shut your mouth, Japp.
But Sage was already looking at him with those amazing blue eyes—ones that he’d swear were tinted contacts if he didn’t know better. “Would you have?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said lightly. “After all, he’d be more interested in the extracurricular activities than helping you set up a NAP.” Not that she’d know what he meant by the term extracurricular…
“Ah,” Sage replied. “So, that brings me to another thing I should tell you.”
Trepidation seized him, but he wasn’t sure why. “What’s that?”
“Well, considering the fact that when I left FC fifteen years ago, I was already slated to get married, the first thing they’ll do when I come back is try to find me a husband. Especially since my cover—is that the word?—is that I’ve decided to embrace their philosophies. So we’re going to have to pretend to be married.”
“Right. That makes sense. But maybe we could just be engaged?” Simon managed to say calmly.
She looked at him a little shyly, as if gathering up all of her courage. “That won’t be good enough. They don’t believe in engagements. I mean, the whole point is to have babies. Procreate. Anything that stands in the way of that is considered inappropriate, even impermissible. And if I’m not actually married, they might try and find a way to get around that.”
Of course.
“So we’re going to have to pretend to be married. I don’t want to give them any hint of suspicion. Any excuses…okay?”
“Sure.” Caught. Completely trapped. Even Florita would have been impressed.
Sage’s shoulders fell with relief. “Good. Thanks.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “I owe you one.”
Oh yeah, God definitely had it in for Simon.
* * *
June 30, about three weeks after the day all hell broke loose
Drew’s dead. I still can’t accept it, but I have to.
Life, somehow, has gone on. If you can call what we’re doing here living.
I’ve lost some of the numbness over Drew’s death, but considering the fact that nearly the entire city has been destroyed, and there’s been nothing from the outside world, I’m terrified that what we’ve lost is much greater than what we at first thought.
Earthquakes and storms were only the beginning. Three days—we think it was three days, most people agree it was, but we lost our sense of time during those early days.
And then people just started dying. Falling to the ground for no apparent reason. For no apparent reason!!!
That’s what happened to Drew. He was standing right next to me, healthy and strong, helping me look for some food on the shelf in a CVS…and he collapsed. He was holding a can of beef vegetable soup.
And that was it. He was gone.
I’ll never eat beef vegetable soup again.
Hundreds of people did the same. There were more dead bodies after that, and it sent those of us who miraculously did survive back into hiding for days.
There were so few of us after that. There are so few of us.
Looking over my blog entries, I know they’ll never be posted of course, but I’m compelled to finish writing them. Maybe someday someone will want to read what happened from an eye witness. Even if not, I still have to express myself. Get it on paper, so I can get on with life.
—from Adventures in Juliedom, the
blog of Julie Davis Beecher
* * *
CHAPTER 6
To Sage’s surprise, Falling Creek looked the same as she recalled. At the entrance was a massive iron gate, the only opening in a stone fence that surrounded the settlement. The fence had been damaged during the Change, but Sage had heard stories of how the two Corrigan brothers and Thaddeus Marck had worked to rebuild it. They’d used parts of buildings that had been destroyed—rubble, massive metal doors, slabs of concrete from driveways—to fortify the barrier, intent on keeping the gangas and wild animals out of their sanctuary.
Sage was certain their plan had also been to keep other humans out as well, for their departure from Envy had been a violent one.
The same scrolling iron letters that spelled out the name of the settlement—Falling Creek, and then beneath it, in smaller letters, Estates and Country Club—still decorated brick pillars on both sides of the gates, gates that had been opened to them immediately upon her identification. She was stunned when Simon told her that each of the large brick structures had been single-family homes.
Having grown up in one of the intact buildings with her mother, brothers, half-siblings, and her father’s three other wives—a total of twenty-three people—Sage simply couldn’t imagine families of only three, four, or five living there. She wondered how many of her extended family was still here in Falling Creek. And how well they’d remember her.
“What did they need all that space for?” she asked as they followed one of the guards down a curving pathway. Flowers grew in organized clumps along the way and children played in the distance. “How did they use it?”
Simon had looked at her, the expression on his face sober and a little sad. “Sometimes it was a matter of status—having a large house. And sometimes it was for privacy or simply comfort. Americans were big on comfort.”
“Did you grow up in a big house like that?” she asked curiously.
He gave a short laugh. “Not even close.”
She waited for him to say more, but he simply transferred his attention to the area around them, effectively ending the conversation.
The original subdivision, as Simon called it, had contained twenty mansions clustered in a large circular configuration. When Marck and the Corrigans founded the settlement fifty years ago, only four of the buildings were habitable, although they hadn’t been without some damage. By the time Sage grew up, twelve of them were being utilized for living space, although in some cases, the buildings weren’t completely intact. Now, according to the guard, who turned out to be Bennie, one of her brothers, fourteen of the buildings were used in some capacity.
She was a little surprised that he recognized her immediately, and even more so when he acted pleased to see her, as if she hadn’t disappeared years ago. “Glad you’ve returned,” Bennie told her, glancing at Simon with interest.
This was her first instance of introducing him as her husband, and she managed to do so smoothly, adding, “I told Simon what a comfortable and welcoming place Falling Creek is,” she said. “And since our home was destroyed in a ganga attack, we decided to start our life over here.”
“They’ll welcome you with open arms,” Bennie promised. “Father’s dead, but the rest of us who are still here—you know, the family—will be glad to see you again. And we’re always looking for people who embrace our philosophy. In fact, Lark’s working in the Community House and she’ll get you all set up.”
Lark had been their oldest half-sibling, and she would be close to forty by now. Sage learned from Bennie that one of their full brothers had left FC about four years ago, and that the other was responsible for managing the cotton farming this year. Five of their half sisters had run away or disappeared over the years—not an uncommon occurrence. But the rest of their fourteen half-siblings were also still in Falling Creek, married and having babies and doing their part for the community.
“Sharon will be surprised to see you,” Bennie added as they left, mentioning the half sister that was closest to Sage in age. “She works in the southeast garden, fourth quadrant.”
“I’ll look for her,” Sage replied, wondering how it would feel to see Sharon again. Which of them had changed more?
As she and Simon walked along the sweeping street to the east, Sage was mentally ticking off memories. The swin
gs where she’d fallen off and skinned her knee on a pile of wood chips, the little cluster of almond bushes where she’d first discovered Buttons, her kitten; even the small pond where she and her friends had penned in turtles and frogs. Those were happy times, even the skinned knee.
But as she’d grown older—gotten breasts and begun to menstruate, an event that was publicly celebrated in Falling Creek—things had changed. The memories weren’t as pleasant.
She noticed the willow tree where one of the candidates to be her husband had cornered her for a conversation about his hope that he’d be selected. This was in between his hawking and spitting, and scratching his sparsely haired, concave chest. She’d had to breathe through her mouth so she didn’t have to smell his nasty breath.
In the end, he hadn’t been the one chosen to be her husband. Instead, a man nearly thirty years her senior had convinced her father that he’d be the better candidate. Sage refused to look at the little chapel that had been used for all weddings—those that had been voluntary or not. She well remembered Sharon’s dismay when she’d been wed to her husband, a rude man ten years her senior.
At the east end of the settlement was the Community House, where all of the community’s administration and management took place. Sage well remembered this sprawling building, with its vaulted ceilings and cold marble floors, for this was where the records were kept, birthing and breeding plans were made, and the settlement’s government met and functioned. It had seemed austere to her when she was a child, for they were always being hushed and shushed so they wouldn’t interrupt “important meetings.”