“Ah, Andromeda.” He opens his arms, greeting me, as though I may step into his embrace.
I can feel the sweat starting to coat my forehead and underarms. The wind blows, sending a whiff of his sweet scent towards me. I swallow hard, trying not to focus on the churning of my stomach.
He just stands there, smiling at me. “You’re not going to greet me, Andromeda? That’s not very nice of you.”
I don’t greet him, instead I raise my arm, aiming the pistol between his eyes. The Guardians form a circle around me, their teeth bared at him.
"I’m not afraid of you anymore," I tell him as I drop a bullet into the chamber, trying to keep my breathing even, trying to hide the fact that I’m currently terrified, that my nightmares are coming true.
"I sense that, Andromeda." He clasps his hands in front of him, still smiling, waiting. He says nothing. It’s like he’s waiting for me to say something. And I do. I say something that has been weighing on my mind for almost a year now.
“I found the extra samples you know. Last year. Before you blasted the United States into the sky,” I admit to him.
“I figured you would.”
“I know that there are other Districts, Crane. Did you think you could get that information past me? That you could just slide in thousands of samples and I wouldn't notice? I can count.”
“I knew you were a smart girl.”
“Who else do you have working on the genetic pairings?”
“Lucky for you, Andromeda, your methods are unique. I've tried to train others to do what you do, but they don't get it.” He shakes his head at me. “They can't grasp your intuition when it comes to selecting genes. Somehow you use more than just scientific fundamentals. That's why I chose you.” He pauses.
“What are you doing with the other Districts then?”
“They are just tiny bits of society, reformed, like this District. We had to preserve a few cultures, sort out the best of mankind. Continue the vitality of the human race.”
“Who’s running them?”
He smiles, pausing, letting me figure it out on my own. I already assumed it would be him. “We do, of course… and the Entities.”
“You’ve never discussed them before. Why?”
“Well, Andromeda, look at you, your current state. I can’t risk you falling any further into your rabbit hole, just look at what’s it done to you already. When you are ready it may be discussed, we shall see. Until then not a word of this information will be uttered.” He looks at me hard and threatening. Then in an instant his face changes, to display excitement or pleasure. “Oh, I almost forgot. I need to congratulate you.”
“For what?” I snarl at him.
“You’ve done it. You’ve found the pathway to help the Residents. To transform them!” He smiles, shrugging his shoulders and clapping silently. His giddy schoolgirl act.
What a freak.
How could he know? I have told no one. I have not told a single soul. There’s only one way he could have found out. I should have figured. I’m so stupid.
“You have access to my computer, don’t you?” I ask him.
“Just think of it, Andromeda, in fifteen-twenty years, it will be just perfect. I can see it now, can’t you?”
“Yeah, Crane. I can see it. You, running an entire population of people who do everything you say without a question. It must be a relief after dealing with me.”
I want to run back to my computer and delete it all. I want to stop him. I want to pay him back for tricking me. He got it all out of me without me even knowing. The pathway and the pairings, just like he wanted. I created the program, the timeline to match the Residents, now and into the future. Generations of Residents have already been paired based on their children and the children after that. I never wanted him to know.
I look to the Guardians, who only watch him intently. Frankly, I was hoping they would attack him and rip his throat out.
“You like them, don't you?” He eyes me as I observe the giant dogs. “You know why they are so protective of you and of our little Catalina?” He smiles, waiting for my response. But I don’t give him the satisfaction of one. I narrow my eyes at him until he continues. “Because I created them.”
“That must make you a fucking genius or something then, huh?” He smiles wider. “If you ever show up here again I won't hesitate putting a bullet in your brain. I don't care who you think you are," I tell him.
He smiles, and bows a little at me. “Until next time then,” he replies.
He turns and starts walking towards the gate. I control the undying urge to shoot him in the back as he walks away. For some reason, aiming a gun at Crane and threatening his life, knowing that I might have a little control over him, it helps me feel better. It helps me feel a little more in control of my own life.
Another knot string loosens.
When I turn around, Adam steps out from behind the barn, his hair messy and wet and the short spikes starting to freeze in the cold air. He saw the whole thing. I take a few deep breaths, waiting for my heart to slow, waiting until I hear the gate creak closed. I stomp over to Adam, placing the loaded pistol in his hand.
“Make sure the gate is locked,” I tell him as I turn and dash back to my house.
I run up the steps and into the house, slamming the door shut. The front windows chatter in an angry vibration. One of the Guardians is sleeping in the hallway and lifts its head at my commotion. My heart is beating too fast. I’m angry, so angry that Crane found his way here. It must have been the transmitter. Adam must not have smashed it in time. He must have gotten our location from that. He must have known all this time, plotting when he would show up and surprise me. I kick at one of the kitchen chairs, knocking it over. Now I’m wishing Adam would have trained me to fight last fall. I look at my weak arm. The muscle has almost returned over the winter, from shoveling the heavy snow, I guess. But it’s still slightly thinner than my other arm and not as strong. Nothing would have beaten the satisfaction of punching Crane in his stupid freckled face. I pace the kitchen, clenching my fists, trying to calm myself down. I hate this. I hate all of it. I hate every second of this new life Crane has blessed me with.
I hear the front door open and close. I know its Adam, here to check on me. But there’s something brewing inside me, something I’ve been meaning to confront him about. I’ve done this before, gone after Crane and then lashed out at Adam. I don’t know why-the adrenaline maybe. I have to use it all up and get everything out.
Adam walks through the kitchen doorway. “Are you-” he stops. He must sense my impending wrath.
“Now, I have a bone to pick with you,” I tell him. “I see there are some new women in town, Adam. You have quite the striking co-worker. Did you think I wouldn’t notice her and that you've been spending a lot of time together?” I cross my arms over my chest, preparing myself for an argument.
“She's new. She's training to manage the University Volker…” I simply stare at him. “It's nothing, Andie.” He scowls at me. I watch the frozen tips of his hair melt in the warm kitchen, small drops of water trickle down the side of his face. I look away from him, staring at the wall, collecting my thoughts.
“She is unpaired you know. So are you,” I tell him. “Would you like to make a request? You never know, she could be your perfect match.”
“Would you stop it? There's nothing between us.” I look back to him and search his eyes, but he looks away. “I don’t know how you do this, Andie, yelling at Crane and then turning on me. It has to stop. I’m here to help you. I’ve always been here for you.” He gives me one last long look, and turns, grabbing his jacket off the chair.
“You should have trained me to fight like I asked!” I yell at his back. But he doesn’t respond. He leaves, slamming the door closed behind him.
I peer out the window, around the curtains. Adam and Elvis are standing in the frozen courtyard. Adam keeps shaking his head. He points to the gate and then back at my house. He’s fillin
g Elvis in. I step back, hiding from Elvis’ gaze. When I look back out the window, Adam is walking towards his vehicle and Elvis is just staring up at me.
I don't know why it upsets me so much, thinking of Adam with another woman. We never promised anything to each other. The first year of our relationship was based on a lie, one that I only forgave because I realized he was lied to also. But the jealousy is still there. And I think to myself, if I had fought harder for Ian, if I still had my husband, if I was a good wife and had stayed away from Adam when I sensed what was happening between us, I wouldn't be stuck in this situation right now.
CHAPTER twelve
When I wake in the early afternoon, my back stiff from sleeping hunched over, my face on the desk, there’s the familiar sound of alarms. It’s the sound of the emergency response sirens our town would test every few weeks in case there was a nuclear emergency. I wonder how long they’ve been going off? The phone on my desk rings and I answer it before the first ring stops.
“What’s happening?” I ask before anyone can speak.
“Andie, it’s Morris.”
“Is there an emergency? Why do I hear sirens?” I stand, slipping my feet into my boots, getting ready to run to the schoolhouse for Lina.
“Haven’t you read the Manifesto yet?” He asks, stopping me. “The alarms sound when there is a problem with the electrified fence. It’s only receiving half power right now.”
“Why? What happened?”
“There was a reactor coolant pump malfunction. We had to shut down one of the nuclear reactors.”
The fence was receiving more than enough electricity. I’m sure even at half power it has sufficient current to fry any living thing that comes in contact with it.
“But we are still safe? From whatever is going on out there, where the bombings were,” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Then what’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”
“Crane sent out an executive order,” he pauses.
“For what?”
“I’m sorry, Andie, you’re not going to want to hear this. But… he’s removing Ian’s medications, effective immediately.”
I twist my finger around the phone cord so tight the tip of it turns white. Ian has been the nuclear engineer out there for years. It would only make sense that they would need him to fix the problem. The medications must have been inhibiting his work. That or Crane just wants to punish me for pointing a gun in his face. Either way, if Ian is going to wake up, then he’s going to be asking questions, and he’s going to be looking for us.
“Are you still there?” Morris asks.
“Yes.”
“You might want to start reading that Manifesto, Andie. It’s important, for all of us-not just the Residents.”
Now I’m fully awake, even after barely napping. The thought of Ian struggling with all the changes-just like we did after he was taken from us-it eats away at me. I turn my computer on searching the data and the pairing program I regretfully created. I’ve been doing this for days. Double-checking, making sure there are no errors in the code, and checking other pathways. I just have to make sure I got it right.
I tell myself I’m just being thorough. But I sense that it’s a worsening of my condition or maybe it’s my way to cope by trying to control the data in front of me since my life is spiraling out of control.
--
Adam visits now and then, staying for dinner, chatting with Sam and Elvis, giving me looks. It's always tense and the heaviness of unspoken words lingers all around us. We no longer have time together to discuss anything. He’s angry with me and I know it’s for accusing him of having a relationship with that other woman. He’s definitely done worse to me. Like escorting me back to Phoenix, anticipating something horrible had happened and lying to me. Still, I found it in myself to forgive him for that.
I spend my nights staring at the data and the unopened Manifesto that lies on my desk. Sometimes my thoughts shift to Ian. Imagining him locked away somewhere, recovering from the effects of the medication as it wears off, unstable from the hormones Crane was pumping through his body to keep him complacent and cooperative. I imagine it can’t be good. Ian’s never been the violent type, not a fighter. He was always better with his words. Except for that one time in college. We went out drinking with friends. I was on my way to the bathroom and another co-ed took it upon himself to grope a little. I was so drunk I wouldn’t have noticed, until I heard Ian’s voice behind me. I turned around only to see him punch the other guy in the face, knocking him out on the dusty bar room floor. I’ve never seen him do it again. But I wouldn’t put it past Ian to try and fight his way out of this. Look at what happened to the faction they tried to titrate off the medication. Of course, it’s easier to subdue one man than dozens. I’m sure he’s trying to remember, fighting the memories, and whatever they are telling him. I wonder if he’ll remember us?
--
As winter turns into a damp spring, I spend my few morning hours helping Elvis get ready to plant the fields. I sort seeds, label seedling tags, and fill planters with soil. Sometimes I kill time at the shooting range Elvis and Sam constructed in the tool barn. Then I find a place to nap before it’s time to get the girls from school.
After a few weeks of this Adam finally shows up, unannounced. I’m at the range, envisioning shooting Crane between his putrid green eyes. As I finish, I turn to leave, finding Adam in the doorway carrying a bag over his shoulder.
At first I just stare at him, unable to form words. Surprised that he’s here and may actually want to speak with me after I accused him of consorting with that woman. He must have the District under control because he’s out of uniform, on a weekday, which barely ever happens.
“What are you doing here?” I ask through the tension in the air.
“I came to see if you were busy,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips.
I look away from him, at the tools tacked to the walls. I can’t trust myself. I can’t trust him, not with those charms he uses on me.
I was about to find someplace to sleep. I’m sure he can tell from my eyes that I’m back to not sleeping. But then again, when I take the chance to look back at his face, he looks the same.
“I just got done here,” I tell him. “What are you carrying?”
He smirks, looking to the objects he has tucked under his arm. “Today you learn to fight, hopefully better than a girl.”
I watch him, trying to figure out if he’s serious. Last time I asked him he told me I wasn’t ready. That was before winter started, before I formulated the method to create Crane’s minions, before I aimed a gun at Crane’s face and threatened his life. Maybe Adam was listening last time we spoke, when I shouted to his back that he should have taught me to fight when I asked. I’m not sure why he wants to start now. Nothing’s changed. I haven’t been strength training like he suggested. I’ve been baking bread and shooting guns and pouring dirt. I look down to my weak arm, squeezing it, trying to contract the muscle. It’s still slightly smaller than my right arm, but barely so. On second thought, maybe kneading bread and shooting guns has helped.
“Why now?” I ask turning my attention back to him.
“You’re ready.” I don’t know why he thinks I’m ready now, all of a sudden. Not much has changed, besides the seasons. “Let’s get started.”
“Where?”
“Here’s fine.” We both look around the tool barn. It’s large and open. All of the farm tools are hung on the walls or kept neatly on shelves. But I can’t help remembering that the last time we were in here together: I was clawing the transmitter off of his body, begging him to smash it.
“Here, put these on.” Adam hands me a pair of padded gloves, elbow pads, and knee pads.
“Where did you get these?”
“I borrowed them from the Volker training yard.”
I place the padding on my elbows and knees. I get one glove on but struggle with the other. I turn my back to Adam, trying to pull
the glove on with all my might. But it’s my weak arm that’s doing the pulling, and the glove is too bulky for me to grasp. I don’t want him to see me struggle. I don’t want him to see how weak I still am. And I definitely don’t want him touching me.
“Here, let me get that.” I whip around, about to yell to him that I don’t need help, but instead I slam right into him, not expecting him to be standing directly behind me.
“Why do you always have to sneak up behind me like that?”
“Sorry. I was always told in training that it was a gift.” He grins at me.
I don’t know what it is about him. His smell. His eyes. The way he looks at me. Why did he have to shave and show up here looking all desirable in his fitted black shirt and jeans? He’s looking at me like he used to, before I accused him of seeing another woman. I take three steps back. I tell myself I have to keep my distance, that I have to continue to be angry with him. That’s the only way I can get through this training, because I know he’s going to have to touch me, and I’m going to have that feeling, that tingling fire feeling. Then my mind will go to the gutter, or the bedroom, and right now, I’m not sure which is worse.
“Hold out your arm and I’ll fix the glove,” he offers.
I want to tell him not to touch me but I can’t get the glove on myself. I hold my arm out, the padded glove hanging off my fingers. He grasps the cuff, pushing it up my fingers, my hand, my lower arm, dragging his fingertips across my skin the entire way, as he gets the glove in place.
I pull my arm back and turn around so he can’t see the blush on my cheeks as I secure the Velcro strap of the glove. Once I’m sure I have settled, I turn back to face him noticing that he is not wearing any padding.
“No protection for you?” I ask him.
“I don’t need it.”
“Is that because I’m a girl, or because I’m a weakling?”
“A weakling wouldn’t have pointed a gun at Crane’s face. I underestimated you. I shouldn’t have. But… you’re still a girl, so no padding for me.” He starts to laugh but I lunge forward, raising my arm in jest to hit him in the chest. Just before my fist makes contact he backs up, the only thing I punch is the air where he once stood. “See, I told you, no padding for me. Now let’s get started.”
The Phoenix Project Series: Books 1-3: The Phoenix Project, The Reformation, and Revelation Page 36