The Trinity

by Daelynn Quinn

  I burst through the bunker door. In the darkness I can see Myra’s outline, leaning over Evie. She stands, grasping tightly to the side of the bunk as I approach.

  “Is she okay? Did she hit her head?”

  I cradle Pollen in my arms and lower her to the bunk across from Evie’s.

  “She’s losing it all, isn’t she? Her memories,” I say to Myra without taking my eyes off Pollen.

  “Yes,” she replies. “But remember Marcus, it will come back eventually. Just give her some time.”

  “Marcus?” Pollen murmurs. “Marcus is that you?”

  I crouch down by her side and take her hand in mine, squeezing firmly while brushing the hair out of her eyes. “It’s me. I’m here, baby.”

  “You know, I don’t need an ‘I told you so’ right now,” she whispers. She has no idea what’s going on. Her mind is playing tricks on her.

  “Marcus.” Myra crouches beside me. “She’ll only remember everything up to the last time she was marked. She will remember you. But she won’t remember any of us. And she won’t remember your son. She’ll be totally dependent on you when she wakes up. That will be quite a challenge, convincing her that she’s a mother now. Do you think you can handle that?”

  My mind is spinning. I only recently discovered my own memories and even most of those are still a little fuzzy. I remember how freaked out I was when I woke up and didn’t know where I was or who all those people were. Pollen will be going through the same thing. I hope I can make it easier on her than it was on me.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Good. Things seem to have quieted down a bit. I’m going to go check on the others.” I don’t even look up as Myra leaves. I won’t leave Pollen’s side. Not now. Not ever.

  ***

  “Initiating descent,” a voice buzzes over the speaker. “Make sure all items are secured and all passengers return to your takeoff positions and fasten your restraints.”

  Pollen is still unconscious. She lies across the seats, just as I had when the shuttle launched. Evie lies on the other side of me, taking up only two seats with her tiny body. This is it. This is going to be our new home.

  I twist to watch out the window behind me as we draw closer to the new planet. Bright blue oceans are swirled with green and white in the center, while the two polar ends appear to be capped with white. The atmosphere is said to be identical to ours, but I have no idea what to expect on our descent.

  There’s an eerie calm in the air. The others in the cabin stare somberly into nothingness. Their eyes don’t seem to focus on anything outside their bodies. It’s like being in a hospital waiting room, when you have the feeling that somebody is about to get the news his loved one has just passed away. Nobody speaks. Someone coughs. It’s the calm before the storm.

  And boy, does that storm come raging. As we pass through the outer atmosphere, the shuttle rumbles and shakes. I watch the hands of my fellow passengers—the veins jutting out, the knuckles turning bone-white—and then I realize my own fingers are clawing into my armrests. My instincts tell me to hold Pollen and Evie, to keep them safe, but my wits tell me not to. I’d probably do more damage than good since they are well secured to their seats.

  The shuttle jerks and gallops. My head is thrust forward, and then back into the headrest. I make a point to be thankful that it’s cushioned. Then there’s a sudden drop and my stomach seems to fly up through my throat. I’m not one to get sick easily, but this ride sure is playing a number on my digestive tract. We rise up again and drop again. Curtis, unfortunately, is not blessed with a strong stomach. The contents, which seem to include the remnants of orange juice and a raisin bagel, fly through the air, narrowly missing my feet. He hurls again. And again. Until he’s left dry heaving. The smell is acrid, and I try to focus on the lurching movement of the shuttle to take my mind off it.

  The descent seems to take hours and the convulsions don’t subside. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster gone out of control—the old kind of coasters that were rickety and built out of wood. Only there seem to be gaps in the tracks where we fall through, only to pick up on another portion of the ride. I’m glad Pollen and Evie are not conscious for this leg of the journey. In the pod at the end of the seats, I can hear Adam screaming. I yearn to go pick him up and hold him close. To comfort him and let him know that everything is all right. But I can’t. And it’s killing me.

  “Brace yourselves,” the voice calls out over the speaker. “We’re coming in for a crash landing. Be ready for an immediate water exit.”

  Water exit? Suddenly the shuttle lurches and I’m thrown forward against my restraints.

  Now I’m faced with a terrible dilemma. Pollen and Evie are still unconscious and Adam is only an infant. How can I possible rescue them all from the wreckage?

  ***

  “Marcus, come quick! She’s waking up!” Myra shouts from the crudely constructed hut I built from some local trees, bamboo, and grass. The single hut is the only one we’ve managed to build since we crashed yesterday. By the time we escaped the wreckage, reached shore, and traveled inland several miles to find fresh water the sun was setting, and Pollen was showing signs of hypothermia. The frigid temperatures here only complicate things. I don’t remember it ever being this cold back at home. She needed shelter fast so I threw together some materials for a hut and slept beside her, sharing my warmth. Evie made out much better. We were able to lift her from the wreckage into the life raft without getting a drop of water on her. Adam’s pod doubled as a flotation device and was attached to the raft. We couldn’t all fit into the raft and by the time they’d dropped off the first load and come back, the wreckage had gone under and those of us left were up to our waists in salt water. But we made it, losing only one life in the wreck—one of the engineers, I think. I haven’t left Pollen’s side ever since.

  Of course she has to wake up the one time I step out to help the doc build a hut.

  “Hold it up, doc,” I say as I wrap a flimsy strip of green bark around the wide tree limb. It’s funny how back on A1D3 we all had our jobs, our individual talents, and performed only those tasks. Watching the good ol’ doc build a primitive dwelling gives me the notion we will no longer be singled out for individual jobs, but will have to work together to get this little community up and running. If we survive, that is.

  The area we settled is flat dry land at the outskirts of a forest. A large clearing is encompassed by short, narrow trees that are easy to cut and the perfect size for building huts. In the center of the clearing is a fire pit, surrounded by dry grass, indented from all the bodies that slept here last night. The burning embers still exhale puffs of smoke from last night’s fire.

  “Coming Myra,” I shout. Turning back to the doc, “You got it?”

  “I think so,” he nods. “You think you can help me with the roof later?”

  “We’ll see how it goes,” I say, jerking my chin toward Pollen’s hut.

  A hurricane begins to churn inside my stomach. Is this the way Pollen felt when I woke up? So much time forgotten. So much to tell. But I can’t tell it all. Not yet, anyway.

  “Myra, Dr. Yipolis needs a hand if you’ve got a minute,” I say as I pass by. She nods.

  “I’ll give you two some time,” she says. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  I hunch over to step inside the hut. On one side lies Evie, sleeping peacefully in a bed of grass specially bundled for her. She hasn’t woken up yet, which is a good thing. Pollen will be the only one she knows here, since she didn’t meet me until after she was tagged. I can’t imagine being a four-year-old little kid and waking up in a strange place with a bunch of strangers I’ve never seen before. She’d be terrified if Pollen weren’t here.

  Pollen lies opposite her on the other side of the hut. Her eyelids flutter and underneath the extra shirts that blanket her she shivers violently. We salvaged a few blankets from the wreckage before it went under water, but they’re still soaked and hanging on various tree li
mbs to dry. I’ll need to get her some furs and fire if she is to get better.

  “Marcus?” she whispers.

  “It’s me,” I say, taking her hand in mine. It feels like a rubber glove filled with ice water. I briskly rub her hand to warm it. Pollen looks disoriented, which I expected, but I’m finding my nerves in shock. I don’t know how to tell her what’s happened.

  “It’s so cold. Where are we?”

  “It’s a long story, Pollen. I think you should rest a bit first. When you’re feeling better we’ll talk.”

  “I’m not tired,” she pushes herself up but falls back on her side. Her eyes seem to bug out when she spies our other guest.

  “Evie?” Pollen’s voice comes out cracked, like she’s on the verge of tears. “Is she . . . okay?”

  “She’s fine. Perfectly healthy. Just resting.” Pollen visibly relaxes and falls back onto her bed of grass. That’s when she takes proper notice of our surroundings. “Where are we?”

  Before answering her question I have to be sure how far back her memories have vanished.

  “Pollen, what do you remember?”

  “Um . . . I remember my house. Glenn was there. He chased us. We crashed, I think.”

  “That’s right. Anything else?”

  “No. Did we escape? Is Glenn gone?”

  Before I can answer, Adam interrupts us, wailing from his pod, which we kept as a crib of some sort, since it keeps him warm.

  “Is that a baby?”

  “Let me get you some water. Then I’ll tell you the whole story.”

  As I turn to leave I scoop Adam up out of his pod. Outside, Myra seems to be in a serious conversation with Dr. Yipolis. The creases on her forehead make her look about ten years older. When she sees me she cuts him off abruptly and jogs in my direction.

  “What happened? What did she say?”

  “Not much, yet. Myra, I need you to take Adam. She’s asking about him and I don’t want to bombard her with the news before I give her the full explanation. I’m going to get some water.”

  “There’s a beaker in my case,” she indicates a small metal case leaning against the base of a tree as I transfer Adam into her arms.

  Inside the case there is an insert crammed full of tiny jars of seeds, labeled with botanical names. I lift the insert to find beakers, flasks, and test tubes, most empty but some filled with liquids. I take a beaker and shut the case.

  Back in the hut, Pollen is sitting up, cross-legged, and clutching her trembling elbows. I should have checked to see if the blankets are dry. She looks up at me. Her eyes are puffy and rimmed with redness.

  “Marcus, what happened?”

  I take a deep breath and sit down next to her, sliding my hands up and down her arms for comfort and warmth. “After the crash, we were captured and retagged. That’s why you can’t remember anything since then.”

  “We were taken back to Crimson?”

  “Yes. But we escaped and rescued Evie.”

  “Then they are probably looking for us. Glenn is looking for us. I swear if I see him again I’ll rip his face off with my bare fingers.”

  “No, Glenn will not find us. And if you ever did see him again, I can assure you, you would hug him rather than attack him.”

  “How can you say that? He betrayed us. He betrayed me.”

  “He helped us escape.” Pollen shoots me a startled glance. “And he lost an eye for it. Pollen, do you remember Myra? The COPS?”

  She remains quiet for a moment then replies, “Yes.”

  “When we escaped Crimson we went to live in the community the COPS set up. It was called Ceborec. Glenn also came to live with us. He was our friend.”

  Pollen carries an incredulous look on her face. She’s doesn’t believe me. She shakes her head and chuckles sharply. “I have a hard time picturing Glenn being our ‘friend.’”

  “Pollen, you were retagged a year ago.”

  “A year?”

  “A lot can change in a year. Glenn had his faults, but he was a good man.”

  “Wait a minute. What do you mean was? Where is he now?”

  “The Trinity launched an attack. He took a bullet for you on the battlefield. He died.” I intentionally left out the parts where Drake tried to shoot her. In fact, she doesn’t even need to know that Drake was still alive. Not yet, anyway. This is already too much for her to consume.

  Pollen cups her hand to her mouth, but remains quiet. I feel the tremble of her silent cries as she leans against me. Then she suddenly pulls away staring at the backside of her hand.

  “What else happened in the last year?”

  I take her hand in mine and kiss her finger, just above her ring. “We got engaged.” Yes, I’m leaving out the part about our damaged wedding. Another detail she doesn’t need to know yet.

  “Marcus, whose baby is that?”

  “That’s our son.”

  “No,” Pollen says, yanking her hand away from me. “No, it can’t be.”

  “You named him Adam, after your father.”

  Tears being to run down her cheeks as she stands up, her legs wobbling beneath her.

  “No, don’t say it.”

  “Pollen, you’re a mother.”

  And with that, she darts out of the hut.

  Chapter 41

  (Pollen)

  This is above and beyond the most surreal experience I’ve ever had in my entire life. I feel like I’m in one of those movies where people get shipwrecked on some deserted island in the middle of nowhere and have to build homes in the trees. At least nobody is chasing me with a shotgun. At least, I hope not.

  I jolt out of the pile of sticks and leaves and stop dead in my tracks. I’m in the wilderness again. Only I’m surrounded by people. People I don’t know. And they are all staring at me. One of them, a handsome tall man with dark hair and bright blue eyes begins to pace towards me. With him a woman I recognize. She’s cradling a baby.

  “Chlamyra?”

  “Yes, Pollen. It’s Myra. How are you feeling?”

  “I don’t know yet.” I focus on the baby in Myra’s arms. A surge of trepidation pulses through me. I can’t be a mother again. I’m too scared.

  “Pollen, you really shouldn’t be up and about yet,” says the dark-haired man. “You need to rest and stay warm.”

  I tear my eyes away from the child to meet his. “Who are you?”

  “Pollen, this is Dr. Yipolis,” Myra says. He’s you’re doctor.” Lucky me.

  Around us, a few people continue to stare, while the others get back to whatever they’re doing, which looks like building more huts and treehouses.

  “Has Marcus told you about Adam yet?” Myra asks. She bounces around lightly as a mother would with her child.

  I nod. “Is it really true? Am I his mother?”

  “It’s true,” Dr. Yipolis replies. “I delivered him myself.”

  “Do you want to hold him?”

  I shake my head with immense zeal. “No, no I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” a voice bellows behind me. Marcus comes up from behind and rests his hands on my shoulders. “It’s okay, Pollen,” he whispers in my ear. “You won’t hurt him.” I turn to look at him and he gives me a reassuring glance.

  Before I can protest, Myra shoves him into my arms. I thought he’d been sleeping, but when I look down at him I see the most gorgeous eyes, blue as the sky above us. His coo is like the song of angels and when he smiles at me my heart melts like butter. And on his crown is a thin dusting of rusty hair, just like his father’s.

  ***

  The air has grown quite colder since I woke up here a month ago. Marcus has been busy building more durable huts, since the original ones he made were only meant for temporary dwelling. Yesterday he brought me back a fur from one of the hunting expeditions. He doesn’t hunt himself because I asked him not to, but he does enjoy the spoils brought back to share. I refused it initially, based on my moral ground, but eventually gave in because it’s just so damn cold.


  After feeding him, I put Adam down for a nap in a cradle Marcus constructed after he outgrew his pod. The little guy is really starting to grow now.

  Outside, Evie is helping Marcus insulate the hut Curtis and Rainn share. When she woke up she didn’t know anybody here except me. But she took to Marcus rather quickly. Now they’re practically inseparable.

  “Hi Auntie Pollen!” Evie cries out.

  “Hold still, Evie, or it’ll all fall out,” Marcus reprimands when she waves at me. She turns back, stuffing her hands into a wall of sticky mud and moss.

  There are nine huts in all arranged in a circle around a large open area with a fire pit in the center. Although we all have to contribute and help each other, some of the tasks have been divided: hunting, fishing, cooking, building, etc.

  I walk by one of the finished huts where Wolff sits out on the ground, cleaning and gutting a fresh catch of fish. Funny—with a name like his, I’d expected him to be one of the hunters. I still get queasy when I think of eating dead animals. Myra said we’re entering the winter season. With our recovered food supplies dwindling I’m going to have to put my moral obligations aside and eat meat if I am to survive the winter. I hate it, but I’ll do what I have to do.

  “Hey Pollen,” Wolff says as I pass by. I scrunch up my nose at the pile of fish guts lying at his feet.

  “Hey Wolff. Good catch today?”

  “Yep. One more week with a catch like this every day and we’ll be eating until the flowers come up.” Wolff also harvests salt and cures the fish. I wasn’t sure why he was chosen for this mission at first, but now I’m definitely glad he came.

  “Hey Wolff, can you—” Myra comes jogging out of the hut, but stops short when she sees me. “Oh, Pollen. I’m glad you’re here. Could you give me a hand?”