The Phoenix Project Series: Books 1-3: The Phoenix Project, The Reformation, and Revelation

by Pritchard, M. R.

  I notice a few survivors wandering, collecting, searching, still in shock, not sure of what to do. They look like zombies. Their clothes tattered, blood smeared on their skin. It’s the tears in their eyes that remind me they’re still human.

  I ignore them. I can’t help them. I have a mission. I run for miles until I see the sign for Sam’s apartment complex. I slow down, taking in the crumpled mess in front of me. There’s only one building left standing, and when I get closer I see its number twenty. I walk until I come upon the jumble that must be number twenty three. Sam’s place. Shit. I kick at the rubble, searching for any signs of life, but there’s nothing. I reach down, pulling up long pieces of busted wood and burnt clothes. Something sharp stabs me in the hand. I pull away a piece of drywall to find a shattered frame, a picture of Andie with her arm around a tall guy. At first it makes me angry, then jealous. She’s mine, or she was mine. As I stare at the picture I come to realize it’s her brother in the picture.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Someone calls from behind me. When I turn around I’m surprised to be looking at the guy from the photo in my hand.

  The first thing I notice: he’s armed. The second: Andie's brother is a beast. He’s the complete opposite of her, tall and muscled. He must be at least 3 inches taller than me and probably outweighs me by 50 pounds. I was hoping to just drag him back to the Phoenix District but that’s no longer an option. I get the impression he’s not going willingly. I can see it in his eyes that he trusts no one. He’s suspicious. And there’s something else, he carries that deep sadness from losing everyone so close at such a young age.

  He’s wearing a uniform, National Guard, and his eyes have the blue hue underneath them just like Andie’s when she’s been up all night.

  “Sam?” I know it’s him and I assume he survived the missile drop because he was up all night patrolling the roads that lead to the Phoenix District. That’s how he escaped his own death.

  “Who are you?” he asks. “What are you doing?” He walks into the rubble and reaches towards me, ripping the picture out of my hand.

  “Colonel Waters. I have some information for you,” I tell him.

  “That’s bullshit. Get out of here.” He reaches for the pistol at his hip.

  I know what he’s been through. Up all night, witnessing the bombings with no way to intervene or help.

  “Sam, we need to talk. I know your sister, Andromeda, and your niece, Catalina. I need you to come with me.”

  I cross my arms, waiting for his response. He stares, sizing me up, his hand hovering over the pistol. I’m sure he can see that I have two of my own.

  “I’ve been searching for them since the earthquakes. Found nothing. I was told they’re dead.” He looks at the photo in his hand. The last photo he has of his presumed dead sister. He twists the frame, breaking it, and pulls the picture out.

  “They are very much alive. If you want to see them again I need you to come with me.”

  “Where are they?” He scowls at me, looking for any indication that I might actually be a Colonel.

  “In Phoenix,” I respond.

  “There’s nothing left of that town. Didn’t you hear there was a nuclear meltdown after the earthquakes?” He folds the picture and tucks it into his shirt.

  “Lies, Sam. The town is there, the people are as well.”

  “How do I know you’re telling me the truth? Why should I trust you?”

  “Because your sister once did.”

  I can see it in his eyes. The hope that they are still alive, that maybe he isn’t all alone in this world. It’s the same look I had when I returned from Germany, right before I found my family’s gravestones.

  He eyes the photo again, rubbing the dust off from it. “You had better be telling me the truth.” He replies through clenched teeth, pointing his finger at my chest.

  “You can trust me, Sam.” There are plenty of people I’m going to lie to, but not one of Andie’s family members, never again. “We need to go now.” Somehow, it was that easy. But I know him. I was him. I know that all you need is a tiny bit of hope that your family might be alive. That hope is a motivator. We run back through the rubble to where I stashed the train. We wait until nightfall. I’m back to following Crane’s orders.

  There are no more missiles hitting their targets. But the sound of gunshots and screams coming from the nearby suburbs are unnerving. I fill Sam in on the Phoenix District, on everything that has happened. What Crane has assigned Andie to do: help him genetically engineer humans. Humans that will be completely cooperative and docile living under the guidelines of the Phoenix District.

  At first he watches me, barely believing the story of the society Crane has created. I tell him there are Residents, medicated and malleable, assigned into factions, helping run the town. I tell him how the electrified fence keeps everyone inside. I tell him that the Volker enforce the policies put forth by the Sovereign, those who were chosen to make decisions for the Residents. I explain my job. I think about giving him the choice to leave. But I can tell from the intensity in his eyes he wouldn't. This is his last chance to find what remains of his family.

  When the sun is gone from the sky, I bring Sam up to speed on my plan to sneak him in. I hide him in the last train car behind the barrels of rice and oats. I start the train, giving it a chance to warm up this time. I push it into low gear. It only takes thirty minutes to get back to the fence, and I am relieved that the code Crane assigned to me for opening the electrified fence still works.

  The Volker monitoring the Gateway salute me as I pass, expecting my arrival. Their Colonel has returned. If only they knew the things I’ve been involved in. I park the train at the station. Before checking the supplies in, I get Sam and lead him into the woods near the well worn trail that leads back to my vehicle. I tell him to wait.

  The walk through the forest and drive through town is uneventful. No one suspects a thing and the streets are clear from the mandatory curfew. I drive to the state college and park near the campus biology building, and then sneak Sam through the tunnel Andie showed me. As soon as we exit the stairwell it's obvious something isn't right. The door to Andie’s loft is wide open, cupboards and drawers are swinging open, blankets and pillows are strewn across the floor.

  Oh shit, they’re gone. What did Crane do to them?

  "I thought they were supposed to be here," Sam asks, annoyed.

  "They were but I've been gone for weeks. The last time I was here Crane caught her trying to escape. I didn’t think he would do anything to her. She’s too important to him, to his plan. Then I was sent to gather supplies and food for the Residents."

  Sam steps into the living space to survey the damage, bending down to pick something up off the floor. "You never told me that." I look to what he holds in his hand, a small doll. One of Lina’s toys.

  "I'm still pissed that she got caught." I try not to let him see it, the anger in my eyes, the regret that I should have done something. I could have done something to protect them before I left. After all, that is my purpose, protect the Sovereign.

  “Now what?” Sam asks.

  “Now I take you to Crane. You’re officially the first Survivor to pass through the gates of the Phoenix District. It helps that you’re Andie’s brother. Still, you need to prepare yourself.”

  “For what?”

  “For life inside these walls,” I respond. “Welcome to the Phoenix District.”

  Part I

  Pastures are for sheep

  CHAPTER one

  Andromeda

  I reach out with my good hand and shake the metal ladder of the water tower. One of the Guardians bark from behind me. I know it’s a warning not to climb, but I don’t care. I have to see it. I have to see what’s happening out there. I have to see where those missiles are headed, how close to us they’ve hit. I use my good arm, the unbroken one, pulling myself up onto the ladder. The chipped paint stabs into my palm. I wrap my cast-arm around the back of the ladder, s
teadying myself, ignoring the dull throb coming from inside the cast. I take a deep breath, ignoring the ache across my side. Each pull to the next rung, each leg raise brings searing pain from my broken arm, my broken ribs, and the bruised muscles all over my body. The rumbling ground shakes the ladder. The water tower lets off a deep, rusted groan. Another warning. It doesn’t stop me. I keep climbing, the tower creaking in unison with each tinge of discomfort coming from my body. It feels like it takes forever until I finally reach the top. I step up onto the walking platform that surrounds the large metal creation.

  I can’t see the forty miles to the city where I once worked. The city I travelled to each night. The city I fled only to find my family torn apart, my life forever changed. I can’t see the city, but the rising plumes of smoke are easy to see from this distance.

  More bombs make impact, the water tower sways, and another Guardian barks, ordering me to get down. I ignore it. I am too mesmerized by the shaking ground, the thundering coming from the heavens, the hundreds of white trails scarring the blue sky. They are missiles flying through the sky, marring the placid blueness on their way to their final destination.

  I can see now, quite clearly, that Crane and the Funding Entities planned to take over more than just our town. This is a do-over, a mulligan, an overhaul. They are bringing our once-proud country to its knees. Dispersed between all of his lies, Crane was telling me the truth. He was able to spurt out the tiniest bit of fact. This does run much deeper than us, deeper than Phoenix, deeper than my family. I can see it now, as clear as day, as clear as I see the smoke rising in the distance. They are taking over the United States.

  As I stand here watching and holding my throbbing, broken arm close to my chest, a few things start to make sense to me. Of all the time I spent trying to escape this place, trying to escape these people who have taken over my life, I realize we are safe here. For the first time inside the Phoenix District I am safe. Lina is safe. Even Ian is safe, wherever they are keeping him.

  We may be safe here, but Adam is still out there. And so is Sam, my brother, the last of my family. They are somewhere beyond those pillars of smoke. Beyond our guarded walls and electrified fence. They are scattered in the midst of the destruction I am witnessing. And all I can do is hope that they will survive.

  Perhaps the thought of our safety should help me feel a bit better. It should help me heal a little. Loosen this tightness in my chest that keeps me wandering the grounds of the Pasture each day. As much as I want to I can’t allow it. I won’t allow it. Not yet. Hidden in all that tightness are the nightmares, the memories, the fears. It’s everything that I was, that I’ve lost, that’s been ruined. I thought I wanted to see this. But watching doesn’t help one bit. It does nothing but cause my chest to squeeze harder, making it difficult to breathe.

  I turn away from the smoking towers, looking towards the cluster of old houses where we currently live. At first I thought it was just another enclosure for Crane to keep me in until he decided what to do with me next. But it has become our safe haven, our sanctuary, our refuge. There is peace here. I just wish I could feel it inside of me.

  No one is outside, near the houses. They must not be able to hear it or see it. I know the missiles aren’t going to stop anytime soon. The water tower sways, groaning as it does. Now, I have two Guardians barking at me. I rub the palm of my good hand on my pants trying to get the sweat off. The last thing I want to do is slip and fall from this height. I would most certainly break my neck, and I don’t think my body could handle many more bruises or broken bones. Baillie delivered enough of those to last a lifetime.

  I position myself on the rusted ladder and begin my slow climb down. By the time I reach the last rungs the Guardians are scolding me with their incessant barking. It’s only when both my feet are on the ground that they stop.

  I leave the water tower and walking back to the houses, I am escorted by my companions, the large Guardian dogs. I get the feeling that whatever breed they are, it is not one created by nature. They are always watching, reacting in the quietest of ways, our own Volker in canine form. The others barely notice when they are nearby. But for me, the Guardians tend to make sure I know that they are watching me. Such as now, as I wander through the dry field, the Guardians walk close to me. So close that their heavy, dreadlocked hair slaps against my legs. It’s easy to see that they no longer trust me-if they even trusted me in the first place-because they are escorting me back.

  --

  The children and Ms. Black remain in the classroom. Stevie stands at the window, her wet nose pressed to the glass as a trail of dog snot trickles to the window casing. I see Elvis walk out of the barn, headed towards me. From here I can barely feel the shaking of the earth. The dense forests that hide us from the rest of the world must be absorbing the shockwaves. And the houses must be just far enough away to escape the rumbling.

  “What did you do, Andie?” Elvis asks as he gets closer to me. He’s not intimidating in the way he asks, just concerned, which is the look I have gotten from him since the day I showed up.

  “What makes you think I did something?” I respond flatly.

  “I heard the Guardians barking. They never bark.”

  “I climbed the water tower,” I tell him. Elvis erupts into a hearty laughter. I don’t think I’ve seen him laugh so hard since we got here just over a week ago. “Don’t you feel it?” I ask him. “The ground is shaking.” He gives me an odd look, one that tells me he doesn’t believe me. “There are bombings.” I point in the direction of the water tower. Elvis gives me one last look before he leaves to investigate.

  From this angle, being on the ground instead of high above it on the water tower, I can see nothing in the sky. The white streaks have flattened into wispy clouds. The smoke and throbbing of the earth are veiled. But as I watch Elvis walking away from me, a few dark plumes of smoke start trailing above the tree line, and Elvis adjusts his pace to a sprint.

  I leave the courtyard, walking the few yards to my small farm house. I hear the soft padding of footsteps behind me. I’m still being followed. I reach for the copper door handle, waiting for the right moment to sneak in the front door, leaving the Guardians outside. If a dog could glare I’m sure the two following me just did. They settle on the wide porch, waiting for me to leave the house again.

  The door clicks closed. I look around the house. From the center hallway, the kitchen is to my left, the living room to my right, the bedrooms and office further down the hall in front of me. I stand still, contemplating where to go and what to do, savoring the lack of judging eyes on me. And just as I’m thinking I might be alone, that I might get a moment of silence without a dog or another person staring at me, my office phone starts ringing. I walk down the hallway, to the last room, and lift the receiver off the phone on my desk.

  “Andromeda?” Morris asks. He sounds concerned. He always sounds concerned. Ever since he saved my life. You would think he might sound cheerful, because I’m still alive.

  “What’s going on out there?” I ask him. I’m curious if he knows as much about the bombings as I just figured out on my own. The Funding Entities just delivered an apocalypse to the United States.

  “I can’t discuss it now, Andromeda. I just needed to make sure you’re safe.”

  Of course he’s going to try and keep me in the dark, just as they always have. “I saw the missiles, Morris. I saw them flying through the sky and blast away the city.” At least I think it was the city, they seemed to hit the right distance away. It would either be the city or one of the suburbs surrounding it.

  “That’s unfortunate.” He sighs into the phone. “I’m sorry you witnessed that, but you will be safe at the Pasture. Please do not try to leave. I will be contacting you soon.” He hangs up in my ear, not waiting to hear more from me.

  It’s unlike Morris to end a call so quickly. To rush the conversation. He’s usually soft spoken, measured, thinking about the words that come out of his mouth, deciding if it�
��s the right thing to say. Morris was always the nice one. Little does he know I have no desire to leave. I don’t want to risk running into Crane again. I’m not sure I could handle seeing Crane. Not after what he did to me. Not after he stood by and watched Baillie almost kill me.

  I stare at the black screen of the computer that sits on my desk. The only thing that seems to make me valuable to Crane. I have yet to turn it on since we arrived here. I’m useless without the use of both hands anyways. It is nothing but a token of threat to me each time I see it, knowing that once the broken arm heals I will have to go back to that work, back to deciding the future of others. Ironic, since it seems I have lost all control over my life.

  I don’t want to sit by the phone or anywhere near the computer. A change of scenery would be nice, anything to take my mind off those missiles, off of my thoughts of Crane. I head to the garden to pick vegetables for dinner, and contemplate further what I have just witnessed. What it might mean for us. What it might mean for mine and my daughter’s future.

  CHAPTER two

  It has been two weeks since the bombings. At least four since Crane sabotaged our escape. I told myself I wasn't going to keep track, but I haven't much else to do here. My arm is still in a cast for three more weeks, or at least I think it needs three more weeks. I haven’t had it looked at since the cast was placed. The deep bruises Baillie left on my body have transformed my skin to a jaundiced hue. Dr. Akiyama ordered me to rest, to recover. But I’m not sure I’ll ever recover. So here I am, with my thoughts and memories, all of it tumbling through my head in one great tangled mess. It seems each time I try to pull a piece of it out, or try to sort things-memories, ideas, feelings-it just tangles further. An unforgiving knot.