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

by Pritchard, M. R.

  The only thing that brings me true joy is spending time with Lina. But even when I'm with her, this heaviness looms over me. I'm afraid she can sense it, and it will change her like it has already changed me.

  When I'm not wandering through the barns and the fields, I’ve found other ways to occupy my mind. I’ve begun drawing on my cast, creating tiny picture stories. Certain memories, true memories. The ones I don’t want to forget. The ones that are the only things keeping me sane. I’m sure of it.

  I see Elvis staring at the cast with that quizzical look on his face. I know from a ways away it only looks like swirls and blobs. But when you stare at it up close-like I do all the time-you can see the tiny people I drew, the tiny memories, the good ones that I’m trying to hold on to. Me pregnant, Lina as a tiny bundled baby, our old house, Stevie leaping off the porch, my wedding dress, Ian in his tux, Lina growing, Sam graduating high school, the tree house, Adam saving us from the wolves, and cooking spaghetti with Lina. Sometimes, I have to hold back the swelling of tears that looking at them brings.

  Somehow, slowly, I feel myself slipping. The knot tangles further and the strands pull tighter. I can’t untangle this. And I know I've felt it before, this heaviness consuming me. There were the times when I was between jobs, when my parents died, when I was getting worn out. It’s just never been this bad. I think the others are starting to see it now. Elvis, Blithe, the children, even Stevie. Elvis has started looking more and more concerned each time I see him. Our conversations trail off into nothingness as I remember everything that has happened, everything that we’ve lost. I just can't stop them from consuming my thoughts or from sneaking into my forebrain despite everything I try to distract myself with. The Guardians have even lost all trust in me. They are always walking close to my side, never leaving much distance between us.

  The nightmares get worse each night, to the point where I’ve stopped sleeping. Instead, I stay up rocking myself and watching Lina as she sleeps so peacefully. It didn’t take long for the area under my eyes to regain the bluish hue they once had when I worked nights. Sometimes I wonder if I'm strong enough to go through this, to carry out my duties alone, with only Lina. And when I think of her growing up and moving on and what happens after that, the thought of being truly alone pulls me deeper. Because once Lina moves on I will have no one to anchor me here. I will have no reason to continue this work. I will have no reason to further submit myself to Crane’s demands.

  I'm not sure what Crane did to me in that basement, but it worked. I’m afraid to leave. Afraid that when I come back, something will change again. That I may lose the only person I truly love, the only person I have left; Lina.

  Still, sometimes I wonder if I saw Ian, could I overlook it all? Would I be able to forget that he let those people take Lina in the first place? Would I be able to free him, or would he even come back to me now after everything that has happened?

  And I wonder if I saw Adam, would it rekindle what we once had? After all the lies? After all he kept from me? If he made it back, if he survived the bombings while he was out running for supplies, he’d be working. Answering to Crane’s demands, protecting the District. I would have no idea how to find him or get him to visit without blowing his cover. Without letting Crane figure out that I lied about our escape, and Adam had everything to do with trying to help us escape this place.

  It’s the not knowing, not knowing anything at all, that makes the knot worse. It makes it hard to breathe, makes me fearful and confused. It just builds upon the affliction that’s taking over me.

  Each day I return to the fields, pretending to check on the crops, thinking I may pick something. But my thoughts are not with the gardens-they are just another distraction-a poor distraction. I decide I just can’t take it anymore. I need some answers, some truths.

  I return to the house to call Morris. I ask him about the bombings, survivors, and if anyone has been outside of the fence. But he stalls, makes excuses, apologizes, and asks me how I am doing. I know he’s trying to protect me and to help me get better, but it just makes me feel worse.

  I have discovered one truth: you can’t untangle a knot by pulling on its ends, you have to start at its core.

  --

  I’m sitting on the porch, itching at the dry skin around my cast and flexing my fingers. The phone starts ringing. I sit and wait, hoping it will stop. I don’t want to talk to Morris now. I’m fed up with him. There is a Guardian sitting on the porch looking directly at me, expectantly.

  “What?” I ask the beast. “Maybe… maybe I don’t want to talk to them.”

  The Guardian responds by blowing a puff of air out of its nose, clearing the hair from in front of its eyes.

  “Would you answer that?” I hear Elvis shout from across the courtyard. I look up to see him standing at the door of the barn. “They just keep calling me when you don’t answer the phone, Andie.”

  Now I feel guilty for interrupting Elvis’ work. I get up to answer the ringing phone, hoping he didn’t see me talking to the dog, which would probably solidify his speculation that I am going crazy.

  “Andromeda.” It’s Morris. “Crane has called a Committee meeting.” He pauses, giving me time to process the information. The words cause my heart to race. I knew it was coming. It had to be. I haven’t been called to a Committee meeting in weeks.

  “I’m not leaving,” I respond. “I’m not ready.”

  “I know. Turn on your computer.” His voice is calm and soothing, leaving me with no choice but to do what he says.

  I walk around the side of the desk and press the small button on the side of the middle computer screen. I can see an orange glow as the screen loads. It starts in the center, getting brighter, clearer. As I begin to realize what it is I step behind the screen so I don’t have to look at Crane’s face. My heart starts thumping. “Get him away from my screen, Morris.”

  “Andromeda, calm down, it’s not him,” Morris tells me. “Take another look.”

  I peer around the side of the desk-as a scared child would do-until I see that it was not Crane’s orange hair loading on my screen, but a bright orange emblem of a war torn bird rising from flames and rubble-a Phoenix. How appropriate. The image that comes into view is that of the committee table. All the seats are there. Except for Crane’s. There must be a camera on the back of Crane’s laptop. There is a red blinking light at the top of my main monitor, and I know it must be a camera that is projecting my image back to the Committee members. I stand off to the side. I don’t want them to see me with my yellowed skin, broken nose, and frayed cast on my arm. I don’t want to give Crane the satisfaction of seeing how badly he damaged me.

  There’s a commotion in the room. I can see people walking in and sitting in their seats. I see Morris’s kind face as he waves at the screen and smiles to me. He’s holding a phone to his ear.

  “I’m putting you on speaker, Andromeda.” He presses a button and sets the receiver down. Alexander sits next to him, also smiling, and greets me. I barely know Alexander. He is quiet, passive, observant.

  I see Crane walk in front of the screen, and I know it wasn’t necessary. He took the long way around the table to get to his seat, to taunt me. What an ass. I hear Crane start the meeting by tapping the hammer on the copper plate, just like always. I look to the Volker seat. It’s empty. My heart sinks a little at the thought that I might have seen Adam, that he could still be alive. Someone clears their throat, there is more commotion. Adam sits down at his seat. I hold my breath, trying to contain the rush of excitement at seeing him. Somehow I forget how angry I was at him before, over a month ago, when he tried to help us escape unsuccessfully.

  I don’t step in front of the camera. I let them stare at my empty chair, the blank wall, the wooden windowsill.

  Crane starts speaking, “District Sovereign, I would like to welcome you to a very important day in the history of the Phoenix District. As you know, the United States has fallen, its government and people now in ruin
s. Right now the Phoenix District is the last remaining organized society within what was known as the United States of America. So, I would like to congratulate you all on making the Phoenix District a success!” I hear him clapping his hands as the rest of the room follows.

  I don’t join in. Because I know he’s lying. I know that there are more Districts. I knew this before the bombings.

  CHAPTER three

  Crane manages the meeting just as he always has, by discussing the supplies brought back by Adam and how the rations will be divided and stored. Crops have already been planted, but we will need to plant more now that the green houses are up and running. Alexander and Morris discuss the factions. About one quarter of the population is off their medication, and the rest are still in the titration period.

  Then I hear Adam speak in his familiar voice. He tells them that the fence and cement wall have remained intact. The District has remained free from any damage of the bombings.

  “We can only expect that some Survivors will find their way to the District,” Crane states.

  Survivors. I never thought of Survivors. I just assumed everyone would perish. But Sam could have survived. He could be out there somewhere.

  “They will be allowed in on a case by case basis,” Crane continues. “We cannot afford to harbor refugees, and everyone that enters the District will become a member of this society. They will be tested, assigned a faction, and genetically paired.” I can hear Crane’s smug smile pulling at his lip with the last phrase. I don’t even have to look at him to see it. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to touch the computer for months, until the first group of District infants are born. But Crane has made it known that I will be responsible for pairing any Survivors who pass the gates.

  “Who will decide on what Survivors to let in?” I hear Adam ask.

  “That will be a Committee decision,” Crane replies. “We will all discuss potential additions to the District.”

  Great, now we will be responsible for choosing Residents from the Survivors. I can think of nothing worse than standing at the gates hoping that you are one of chosen to be let in. Knowing that there is nothing left out there, and your only hopes for survival lay within these walls. It’s almost comical. What almost killed me, what has ruined my life, might be someone’s last hope someday.

  Just as it began, the meeting ends with Crane and his little hammer. I was successful at saying nothing, just as I had hoped.

  --

  I return to my wandering. Floating through the Pasture like a ghost. I get the feeling Elvis told Morris of how I’ve been acting. He wants me to see the doctor and to leave the Pasture. Each time Morris suggests it I refuse. I think the only reason why they let me remain in this state is because I can function like a normal human being when Lina is around. We read, tend to the farm animals, walk the gardens together, throw sticks for Stevie to chase, and swing on the old wooden swings that hang from the large oak trees. When it’s just the three of us, me, Lina and Stevie, and I don’t have to think about Crane, or the District, or everything we’ve lost, I can get by. Sometimes I even smile. It’s the hours in between, when I don’t have Lina and Stevie to distract me which concerns them so much. To tell the truth those hours in between scare me. I dread them. I fear them, because I know it will all come flooding back.

  --

  One day out of the blue Elvis brings me a package. It’s a small padded envelope. When I open it I see a small disk drive. It can only mean one thing. Data. They let Survivors in. I almost don’t care that I wasn’t included in choosing who was allowed to enter the gates. I don’t want to be held responsible for that. But at the same time, if Crane finds me to be less valuable for his plan here, I may become expendable. They have other Districts, they could have someone else doing my job right now.

  I turn the computer on for the first time in weeks, since the last Committee meeting. I push the drive into the monitor and open the file that loads up on the screen. It’s strange, there is one new Resident.

  I find it hard to believe that anyone would knowingly walk towards an area of identified radioactivity to find the gates. There are signs posted all over. All I can think is they must not have anywhere else to go. Or maybe someone snuck in. Or they passed them over during the testing phase of the District organization. I’ll probably never know.

  Kira must have analyzed the data. I scroll through the file, poking at the keyboard with the one finger of my good arm. I stare at the long genetic code. I rearrange it by height, hair color, skin color, eye color. Not long after I can almost see the new resident standing before me. Male, fair skin, green eyes, brown hair, over six feet tall. Strange. This person looks familiar to me. I open the original Resident pairing file and find my own unpaired genetic data. I copy it and place it next to my new sample. Most of it matches. This can only mean one thing: I am related to this person.

  I look at the birth date Kira has provided. I’m sure my heart skips a few beats when I see Sam’s birth date.

  I pick up the phone. “I need to speak with District Sovereign Morris,” I tell the operator.

  I wait as the phone rings. But Morris doesn’t answer. I hang up and stare at the data trying to control the excitement bubbling inside me. It can’t be wrong, it has to be Sam. I call Morris over and over again until he finally answers an hour later.

  I don’t even let him say hello. “You're keeping things from me, Morris.”

  “Yes I am,” he responds in his usual calm voice.

  “Why didn't you tell me my brother was allowed in?”

  “We were waiting for the right time-”

  “You could have told me!” I interrupt him. “He's the only family Lina and I have left. I want to see him.”

  “You weren’t ready when he got here. I’m not sure you’re ready now, Andromeda,” he responds, his voice solemn.

  “I’m ready now. I have to see him, Morris.”

  The other end of the phone is silent.

  I decide to make my second request, hoping it isn’t too obvious. “I want Colonel Waters to bring him.”

  “Colonel Waters is very busy, Andromeda.”

  “I know he’s busy, he’s always busy,” I tell him. What I don’t tell Morris is that I have to speak with Adam. I have to know what happened. What’s going on outside the walls. So, I say something in hopes that he will send Adam, something that I might regret, “He's the only one I trust with the care of someone I love.”

  “He’s someone you should trust, if you don’t already, Andromeda.” I hear Morris let out a heavy sigh. There is a long silence, and I know Morris is contemplating my request, weighing his options.

  “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.” I pause for a moment. “You want me to get better, Morris? You want me to heal, to stop acting crazy? Then send my brother.”

  There I did it. I admitted to Morris that I know I’m going mad. That I know I’ve been sent here to heal mentally more than physically. I’m not sure seeing Sam would help-or seeing Adam for that matter-I just know I want to see them. I want to make sure they are real, alive.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Morris responds before saying goodbye and hanging up.

  CHAPTER four

  I continue my floating, my distractions, my drawings on the cast, and wait to see if Morris will grant me my wish. The nightmares continue. And now that I know Sam is alive somewhere in the District, it somehow makes them worse. One night I fell asleep in Lina’s room only to have her shaking me in the night, trying to wake me, crying, because I was screaming again. I can’t handle the nightmares like a normal person might. A normal person would wake up and reorient themselves. A normal person would wake up and take a few deep breaths then roll over and go back to sleep. I can’t. Each time I wake up I’m in the same place. I’m still here. My family is still ruined, my life is still ruined, my husband has still been taken, my brother is here, Adam is here, I still see Baillie’s face every time I close my eyes, and Crane’s threats loom over me.<
br />
  So I stay up staring at the computer, at the genetic data that could only be Sam’s. I read books from the library-house. I sleep during the day when I find a comfortable place in the woods or the fields. Far enough away so that Lina, or anyone else, can’t hear me. But always when I wake there’s at least three Guardians standing close to me, watching me, concerned that they can’t pull me back from whatever is happening in my mind. It’s that giant dust bunny of a knot. I can’t escape it.

  Sometimes, like today, I just walk, past the water tower and out to the farthest fields. Places I haven’t explored yet. I find a small pond with an old wooden boat. It looks tranquil and soothing. Just the place for an afternoon nap. But when I reach for the rope to pull the boat to shore, one of the Guardians steps in front of me, nudging my hand away from the rope, redirecting me away from the water. I watch the dragonflies and frogs, jealous that they are able to enjoy the morning pond and I am forced to move on.

  I continue on, walking further, until I come upon another cluster of houses. These are unlike the ones we live in. They are much older. Not much more than ruins. Small, single room houses with sagging porches, covered in heavy moss, roofs missing. I walk through them, trying to envision who might have lived here so long ago. When I walk through the living space of the largest building, which is much smaller than the house I’m living in now, I hear a hollow echo from under the wooden floor. I stop, looking to my feet, and find a small metal circle in the floorboards. As I reach down to pull it up and see what lies underneath the floorboards, one of the Guardians interrupts me. He nudges me behind the knee, trying to get me to walk back towards the houses where we live. They must be concerned that I’ve missed my nap. Or they don’t want me to see what lies under the floorboards. I reluctantly follow the Guardians out of the house and retrace my steps. I walk past the pond and the fields making my way back home, escorted by the three large beasts.