He repeats my name, this time placing both his hands on my face, stretching his fingers into my hair, kissing me for the first time since he arrived. He tastes sweet, like I remember. I have that deep stirring, the feeling that I have to have more of him right now.
I don’t think. I don’t want to remember the last two times we were in the bedroom together, when nothing more than heavy kissing took place. I had self-control then. But that was before my husband had a baby with another woman, that was before Crane assured me he would never return. I have no self-control now.
I pull away from him, and gripping the hem of his shirt I pull him down the hall to my bedroom. I close the door. When I turn around Adam reaches for me, placing his hands on both sides of my face, looking intently into my eyes. I can feel him holding back.
“Don’t,” I tell him.
“What?”
“Don’t stop this, not now, it’s bad enough you’re leaving.”
“You don’t want to talk about what happened? The escape. You told me never to touch you again,” he whispers.
And I did, when he told me part of his mission was to find me and escort me home after the initial bombing.
“Shut up,” I tell him as I push his hands away and reach for his shirt, pulling it over his head. I press my palm to his chest. Feeling the scars, his warm skin. I feel something, more than I’ve felt in weeks. A deep twinge in my stomach. I don’t want it to stop. I slide my hand down his chest, over the muscle, skewed from scar tissue. I stop at the button to his jeans. He puts his hand over mine, stopping me.
“Wait.”
“I don’t want to talk,” I tell him, reaching up on my toes, pressing my lips to his. A deep groan emits from his throat as I slide my teeth over his bottom lip. That’s all it takes. He reaches for my sweater, pulling it over my head. My heart rate picks up, the anticipation growing. He’s moving too slow, and it’s killing me. I rip off my remaining clothes and reach for him, just as the moonlight floods my bedroom window. I see it in his eyes, before he even has to say anything.
He pushes me back, his hands on my shoulders. Staring. I’m sure he sees it all. The lumps in my ribcage, the bruises, some of them still purple, most of them varying shades of green and yellow. Even after all these weeks they have yet to heal.
Adam surveys my body. Until finally, his eyes land back on mine. “Andie, what the hell did they do to you?” He asks, his voice strained, regretful even. I’m sure he’s sorry that he left me alone after trying to help me escape, now that he can see what they did.
“I told you already.” I walk to the window, pulling the blinds, sending the room back into darkness. When I return to him, he’s hesitant to touch me, his hands merely hover over my body. “Don’t do this, Adam, not now. If you stop now I will never forgive you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, bending to kiss my shoulder.
I sigh. “Whatever you do could never hurt me, not like they did. Don’t stop, not now.”
He presses his lips to mine. “Okay,” he whispers as he lifts me and sets me gently on the bed.
For the first time in weeks, in months, I let myself feel. Every touch from him, every caress, every kiss. I almost feel alive again.
--
“Do you dream?” I ask Adam, as we lay in the small bed together, tracing the outline of the scars on his chest.
“I try not to,” he responds, twirling a piece of my now long hair around his finger.
“Mine stop when you’re here. The nightmares.” I stop my fingers over the bullet-hole scars near his shoulder.
“Mine too,” he whispers. I lay my ear on his chest, listening to steady thump of his heartbeat.
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” I finally admit to him.
“You needed time to heal. These past few days it was all I could to not to carry you out to the forest and have my way with you.”
I prop myself up on my elbow and look in his eyes. He’s serious.
I lay my head back on his chest, hiding the rising blush in my cheeks. I get the sense that I just did something terribly wrong, something terribly selfish. For the first time in my life I didn’t think. I let my body do what it wanted.
I didn’t think about what this would do to Lina, how she would feel seeing me substitute her father for Adam in my bed. It’s been over a year since I last saw him, still, I feel ashamed for breaking my marriage vows.
I pushed Ian away, hoping that it would keep him safe. Now, letting Adam get closer does nothing but put him at risk, since it seems Crane has an agenda for anyone who comes close to me.
Nothing good can come from what I just allowed to happen.
--
Adam is gone before the sun rises, but the guilt still sits like a heavy stone in my stomach.
I get Lina to the schoolhouse, avoiding her questions of where Adam is and when he’s coming back. I’m sure Sam suspects something is up when I don’t look him in the eye. He’s not stupid. He probably noticed Adam never spent one night in their sleeping quarters above the library-house.
I sit on the porch listening to the teachings. Throwing sticks for Stevie to chase. After a few minutes of this Stevie gets bored or tired, and she enters the schoolhouse through the small dog door Elvis put in for her. I glance through the window and see her lay down on the floor next to Lina’s feet.
It’s not long before I get that tingling antsy feeling that I need to stretch my muscles. I walk to the far field, a Guardian trailing behind me. I stop at the water tower. This time I am able to use both arms, pulling myself up the rungs of the sturdy metal ladder. When I get to the walking platform I am out of breath and my weak arm throbs from the climb. I look out in the distance, trying to see anything to the South towards the city. But there’s just a single thin strand of smoke in the sky. Perhaps it’s someone’s fire, a survivor trying to stay warm or cook.
This time the Guardians do not bark at me, ordering me to get down. Instead they wait patiently at the bottom of the ladder and escort me back to the house, once I climb down. Perhaps they are starting to trust me?
I head home.
I can hear the phone ringing from across the courtyard. When I get inside to answer it I’m expecting Morris, since he is the only one who calls me regularly. Instead its Adam’s voice I hear.
“Where were you?” he demands.
“I was climbing the water tower.”
“What?” He asks.
“The water tower-”
“Never mind,” he interrupts. “Morris will call you soon. I just needed to warn you. The titrations are not going well. There has been an incident. I have it controlled for now. You need to start brainstorming. Crane is going to be looking for suggestions on how to deal with this.”
“What happened?” I ask.
There’s a commotion on the other line, someone else speaking in the background. “I have to go.” He hangs up without another word.
I sit at the desk waiting for Morris to call, leaning forward at least four times to press the power button on the computer. But each time I stop myself. “Get over it,” I tell myself and finally turn on the computer. I stare at the screens, waiting. This goes on for hours until finally, Morris calls to announce the Committee meeting.
I slide my chair to the side of the desk, out of the view of the camera. Everyone is seated at the Committee table. And once again Crane takes the long way to his seat, walking in front of the camera so I have to see him. This time my heart doesn’t skip in fear. Instead I feel a sharp pain in my hand and when I look down my knuckles are white, gripping the arm of the chair.
Crane starts the meeting without any opening declarations. He states only the facts. The Orderlies, the faction responsible for keeping the District clean, did not respond well to their titrations. Half of the faction organized an uprising; wandering the streets, confused, searching for answers and the person responsible for all the changes. It took most of the Volker to subdue them. Crane says that the med
ications will be reinstated, the titrations halted.
“They can’t be medicated indefinitely,” Morris interjects. “This never occurred in Japan, why here?”
Crane clears his throat. “The people, of what was the United States, were brought up with certain expectations of obligation, that society was indebted to them upon their birth but not because they made any contribution. It’s presumptuous actually.” I can hear the disgust in his voice. “In other countries, such as Japan, this thinking is not prevalent. Those people are much easier to please.”
“We could show them what’s left of the United States. Then they would have no choice, they would see how much better they have it here.” Alexander says.
“No. They are not ready to see,” Crane responds. There is a long note of silence, everyone thinking, trying to figure out how to solve this problem.
Suddenly, I know. I know why they responded so poorly to the titrations. I should have remembered from my sociology courses, all the studies I read for those classes. Crane should know this already. If he’s the one responsible for creating the medication. My fingers tingle in anticipation. I want to speak, but I don’t want to talk to Crane. I don’t want to look at him. I can barely stand the sound of his voice right now.
“Colonel Waters will resume around the clock Volker dispatches to ensure order in the District,” Crane continues. I look to the screen. Crane is about to wrap up the meeting. If I want to speak it needs to be soon. Morris is looking directly into the camera, waiting for me to say something.
“They don’t trust you,” I force out, focusing on Morris. There’s silence, the drop of a pen.
“Continue,” I hear Crane’s voice, the smirk in his tone, his arrogance.
God I hate him.
“The medications work at controlling the amygdala, making them cooperative, but the residents will only display cooperation towards those whom they met before the hormones were started. Did you present yourself to them? If you did they won’t trust you, it has the opposite effect.”
“What do you suggest?” Crane asks.
“They need to know who you, the Sovereign, the Volker are. With pictures or something…” I trail off, thinking of a solution.
“What about a manifesto?” Adam asks.
“Go on,” Crane responds.
Adam continues. “Create a manifesto, detailing the District, the guidelines, photos of the Sovereign, and explain that the U.S. no longer exists.”
“You want us to brainwash them?” Alexander asks.
It’s the best solution really. Adam is a genius. Not only is it easy but non-confrontational.
“It’s decided. Medications will resume until the Manifesto is complete, then we will revisit the titrations. Now that the world outside the District is much different I’m sure you all understand when I suggest haste in all that we do from here on out.” With that, Crane ends the meeting.
My phone rings immediately. Morris’ calm voice is on the other end. “She speaks.”
“Yes.”
“Good, Andromeda. I know that was hard for you.” I don’t respond to him. “Don’t forget. The Funding Entities have asked more of you, the genetic pairings are not your only goal. They’ve been pushing me, asking when you will be ready. I can’t hold them off much longer. You’re better now, not one-hundred percent, but it will have to do. They want you to find the link. Do you remember what Crane told you, what is expected of you?”
“Yes, I remember,” I tell him. How could I forget? Locate the genetic link to pro-social behavior and less dominant personalities, so we can decrease the amount of medication the working factions are receiving, and ensure cooperation with all residents.
“Then I don’t need to stress the importance of you finishing your duties. They want it complete so the Residents are of sound mind and ready to protect the District if need be.”
“They’re giving me a deadline?” Just when I thought I might get some peace out here.
“Spring.”
“But it’s already October, that leaves me only five or six months, this type of research could take years. I don’t know if that timeline is plausible.”
“You need to make it plausible, Andromeda. We live in different times now.”
Morris ends the conversation. After I hang up the phone I lean back on my chair, staring at the white ceiling. Six months. This is impossible. The wind blows a handful of leaves against the window. Winter will be coming. At that moment something drifts to the front of my mind, Lina’s birthday. She will be seven in less than a week.
CHAPTER seven
I start with medical journals; reading and absorbing. The few articles I can find on hormonal modulation of social behaviors are basic theories I’ve read before. The same ideas that led me to suggest Crane introduce the District to the residents in another manner.
I move onto research journals. The reading is fast, there’s not much there. Rewiring the human brain doesn’t seem to be a highly published field of research. Of course, who would be interested in it besides a psychopath like Crane? Since it is customary for research labs to thank their funding sources I’m not surprised to see they are all funded by the same grant and they all thank the same company: Crane Oracle Entities.
It’s easy to see from the few published papers Crane’s been working on this for at least ten years or more. He obviously has money to spare. But the one thing that strikes me as odd is so far he has only succeeded in creating a medication which allows the creation of nonviolent, obliging people. In ten years he hasn’t figured out how to alter their genes to replace the medication, now he and the other Entities expect me to have it done by spring. Of course, I doubt they have ever had a town full of people to substitute for their lab rats. Maybe this was the plan all along. Create the medication, then the takeover, then the human gene alterations.
People as lab rats. I used to work with lab rats, and you know what we did when were unsuccessful? We euthanized the rats. That’s not an option here. These are people. People I have to figure out how to help. But at what cost? I’ve already lost Ian. I still have Lina and Sam. I’m sure that’s just contingent on my success. I’m sure that failure will result in either one of them being taken from me. I have to figure this out. I have to keep them safe.
I hated working with rats. They were always biting me, eating their young, fighting in their cages and they smelled. Thinking of them brings back a flooding of memories from the lab I started in. All it had taken me was less than four years. I had theorized that we had the ability to create genetically enhanced organisms through selective breeding, and minor genetic alterations. I had even tried it, creating a non aggressive, highly intelligent breed of rat. Dr. Drake’s lab assistants couldn’t replicate my work, so I’m sure that’s what brought on his growing distaste for me. He was always arguing with me about costs. The rats, the equipment, the brain scans. I was glad to leave. I just never expected that my life would go full-circle and I’d be playing with genes again.
Brain scans.
Why didn’t I think of this before? It’s not enough to review the data or read all the literature. I need to see what’s going on in there when the Residents are on this medication. I call Morris and order scans of the Residents’ brains. He doesn’t even ask why. He just tells me he will have them sent to me when they are complete.
--
It’s hard trying to sleep with the guilt of infidelity on my mind. I can’t help but feel at fault for betraying Ian, and for being with Adam. But Ian betrayed me first. I keep telling myself this. He has a child already with another woman. He was the first to move on, whether he knew it or not. I’m sure that was one of the reasons that made it easier for me to push him away. It’s not like he knows what’s going on. Crane has assured me he’s medicated beyond remembering. Crane has plans for him. I get the feeling Crane did something else to him, something other than what he’s been feeding the residents. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make what I did f
eel any less wrong.
The nightmares start again on my second night without Adam. I flick my eyes open as soon as I see the images: Baillie, Crane, the basement. I stay awake, drinking coffee, working into the night, and finding a place to rest when Lina is in school. Lately it’s been the walking platform of the water tower. It’s wide, caged, so I can’t fall off. I don’t have to worry about one of the Guardians shoving their snouts in my face.
Climbing is easier now that the cast is off my arm and I’m hoping all the climbing might help me regain some strength in my weak arm. The benefit to being up there is that I might see something. I can see most of the Pasture, the skyline to the South, the cooling towers of the nuclear reactors near the lake. It’s my perch.
I dress myself in heavy clothes, jackets and scarves, trying to stay warm from the cool fall weather. Elvis notices, stopping me on my way to the fields as I head for the water tower.
“Andie,” he surveys me.
He’s getting that look again. I don’t want to tell him that I can’t sleep because of the nightmares. I don’t want him to think I am so weak that I can’t control them. Before he gets the idea to call Morris and tattle on me I try and change the subject, interrupting him as he starts to say something.
“Lina’s birthday is in a few days. I don’t know what to do for her,” I tell him.
This is actually a truth. After the party Crane threw for her last year and the luxury restrictions now imposed upon us by the Funding Entities, I am lost as to what to do for her.
Elvis smiles. “Come with me. I have something.” I follow Elvis to the large barn where he keeps the firearms. “Did I ever tell you I had a daughter once?” he asks me.
The Phoenix Project Series: Books 1-3: The Phoenix Project, The Reformation, and Revelation Page 32