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

by Pritchard, M. R.

  Sakima drives. I study Adam from the back seat of Sakima’s vehicle. But he doesn’t look back. He stares straight ahead, waiting for his next set of orders. I look down at my throbbing wrist, the one that Adam had twisted behind my back. The lines of his hand slowly appearing across my skin in the form of a deep purple bruise.

  When I see the large cement wall come into view my heart starts beating fast in my chest. I have no desire to go near the Tonopah District gates. For a moment I fear Sakima might throw me out. Maybe that was Crane’s plan all along. Deposit my body in the desert, since Baillie did such a poor job throwing me in the river. I don’t want to be one of those Survivors standing outside, desperate to get in.

  When Sakima stops the vehicle, Adam gets out and opens my door. He waits expectantly. I look up at him. His expression is cold, he’s tense, and it’s utterly terrifying seeing him like this. I fear for whoever has to experience him as a prisoner.

  We enter a heavily guarded building. It’s made of painted white cement blocks, reflecting the desert heat. As the Volker open the door for us, there is a cool breeze from inside the building. Even though the temperature has dropped at least twenty degrees, it doesn’t help hide the fact that I’m sweating nervously.

  The Volker are heavily armed, carrying guns, grenades, and long sticks that look like an extended baton. We enter a room with ten people seated at a long table, facing out a large window. Outside I can see more guards and a row of people, Survivors, each holding a numbered card in front of them.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  As the words escape my lips the ten seated people turn and stare at us. Their eyes are cold, slightly dull. They examine me up and down, each glancing at my wrist, at my District branding.

  “Let me introduce you to the Tonopah District Sovereign,” Sakima tells me. He turns his attention to the table of people. “Continue with your work,” he instructs them.

  I watch as one of the Sovereign men seated in the middle of the long table leans forward into a microphone. “Number four and number seven,” he says.

  The Survivors holding the cards step forward and two of the heavily armed Volker lead them away from the group. Now, more Volker step forward, their batons pointing at the remaining Survivors, the bright line of electricity visible at the tip of each baton. The Survivors back up, walking towards a small opening in the electrified fencing. They walk through the opening, heads hanging in defeat, except for the last one. The last Survivor tries running back towards us, pushing at the Volker, reaching for their weapons. He’s quickly subdued by the shock of five batons and a gun pointed at his head. The Volker grab under his arms, tossing him back outside the gates.

  Another ten Survivors are allowed in. They walk to the window, each picking up the discarded cards from the dusty ground. They wait as the ten Sovereign inspect them and their sunken eyes, tattered clothes, the silent pleas being whispered off their lips.

  The middle Sovereign, a man, leans towards the microphone again. “Number one, state your name and previous occupation.”

  A tall woman steps forward, wearing something that looks like it used to be a suit. Now the pants are stained various shades of brown, tattered on the end, hanging off her slim hips. “Liz Miller, I was a math teacher,” she answers, her voice shaky.

  This continues as each Survivor steps forward, men and women alike. Some were mechanics, or housewives, most were unemployed from the poor economic status of the U.S. before the bombings. Number ten admits he manufactured methamphetamines in his basement and sold them. If he was hoping his honesty might get him inside, he was wrong. The Volker immediately remove him from the line-up, allowing a new Survivor to step forward and hope for acceptance.

  With each name revealed I watch the Sovereign type it into a small computer. Sakima notices my observation. “This is how we find the chosen ones, the Sovereign suggested on the Funding Entities’ list,” he tells me.

  “How many of them have you found?” I ask, curious.

  “A few dozen.” He shrugs as though it is no big deal. “They have been assigned duties throughout the District. But the teachers, we aren’t sure what to do with the teachers, since there are no children yet.”

  “Number two, number four,” the Sovereign man says into the microphone.

  The woman named Liz falls to her knees, screaming, begging, the tears leaving strips of cleansed skin down the sides of her face, all in a last ditch effort to be chosen. It doesn’t work, the Volker drag her out to the gate and allow another group of Survivors in.

  “I think I’ve seen enough of this,” I tell Sakima.

  The whole display makes me sick. When Crane told me we would allow Survivors in, the ones that found our fence, I never suspected it could be like this. I guess I never thought much about it considering how hidden we are. But now, after seeing this example of choosing Survivors to live within the District walls, I’m thoroughly disgusted.

  “Would you like to see our processing facility?” he asks as we walk out of the building. “It’s quite impressive. The chosen get cleaned, provided with clothing, tested, assigned duties and living quarters. They get their first meal also. It’s very interesting to watch. The transformation these people go through, the look in their eyes when they are handed a plate of warm food, and how the food changes them, returns them to civility.”

  “That sounds really great,” I tell Sakima. “But I think I’ll pass.” I stop, staring at the busload of dirty faces as it passes us.

  “Are you sure?” he pressures me. “We could follow that busload right now.”

  I hear the shifting of feet behind me. When I turn I see Adam, he’s been so quiet this entire time that I almost forgot he was here. I look back, towards the bus as it pulls away. Some of the Survivors smile.

  “I’m sure,” I tell Sakima. “I don’t want to see it.”

  The bus kicks up a dust cloud as it pulls out of the parking lot. The sun beats down on us, warming me. It’s so hot it’s almost hard to breathe, but I take comfort in the warmth. The warmth helps me think. I watch the bus drive away from us, the sun glinting off of its windows. I realize something. I realize that Sakima has discovered the cog in the machine when it comes to the medication the Funding Entities have developed and dispensed at will. Whereas our Residents struggled with trusting Crane, Sakima has found that the medication-combined with the Survivors’ strong desire to live at all costs- makes them trust anyone.

  And now Sakima, no, the Entities want me to solve this problem. I can feel it, the idea forming in my mind. And as Sakima drives back to Headquarters I’m able to form a solution to their problem here. And it’s a truly terrible idea, violating every moral fiber in my body.

  Do you want to leave, or do you want to try and save these people? I ask myself. Staying here will only delay my ability to return home. It only keeps us in danger. It only keeps me away from Lina and Sam.

  “So, do you have any suggestions to solve our child dilemma?” Sakima asks as we enter Headquarters. I notice Alexander and our Volker eating more of the medicated food. Right now they are worthless to me. They won’t help me, they can’t help me.

  “You never plan on titrating the medication out of their systems?” I ask Sakima.

  “It will never happen here,” he tells me with conviction.

  “Of all that has been told to me, all of the ideas and guidelines set forth by the Funding Entities, this violates much of them,” I tell him.

  He smiles. It’s an eerie smile. “This is your lesson from my District, Andromeda. A lesson you need to learn before you take your place as an Entity. The guidelines set forth to develop these Districts may be altered as we see fit. Failure of a District is not an option. And I am not about to risk my life, for the life of a few thousand sickly Survivors.”

  I take a deep breath and steady myself before I give Sakima his solution, a truly terrible solution. “Well then,” I tell him. “Here is my suggestion to your District. You breed the Survivors befor
e they are allowed in.”

  “How do you suggest we do that?” He asks inquisitively.

  Hearing myself say the words makes this idea seem so much worse. “You have more than enough food to feed some of them. Create a lottery, provide them rations, clothes, a shower, whatever. You breed them while they are outside the gates, then you let in the women and you let in the infants. Or you let in just the infants. You take their children. However, genetic pairing will not work in this situation, unless you can get the Survivors to cooperate without the medication. So you will have to work with whatever is brought to you, whatever those Survivors create amongst themselves will populate your District.”

  If I have ever thought it could be hard to be a horrible person, I’ve just proven myself wrong. It was much too easy for me to come up with a solution. Much too easy for me to think of a way to exploit the Survivors to better this District and myself. I have reached the point in my life where I have the ability to be extremely disappointed in myself.

  Sakima claps his hands together, much like I’ve seen Crane do. “Brilliant! Now, this is something I can work with. Crane was right to send you here.”

  “So we are done then?” I ask him. “I want to leave, immediately.”

  “Yes, Yes. Now I see why Crane chose you and why he found it so hard to let you leave his grasp. Even if it is for a single week. You may leave soon enough. There is one more thing.” He starts walking towards a closed door at the back of the room.

  I stand my ground, afraid to move, afraid of whatever he needs to show me that is behind that door. “Come now, Andromeda, or I will have to employ the suggestive forces of Colonel Waters.”

  Adam stands at my side. Just as he has the entire day. There is no indication that he is back to normal. He will still do whatever Sakima tells him.

  I walk quickly, following Sakima. Not because I’m afraid of Adam, because I don’t want him to find any extra bruises on me when he comes out of this. There’s no way I can hide where they came from.

  I have a small sense of relief when Sakima opens the door. It’s nothing but an office, much like mine, except larger. There is a laptop and phone, which no doubt may connect me back to Phoenix. I’m sure he will be filling in the other Entities as soon as we leave. Still, I want to pick up the receiver and call home. I want to hear Lina’s voice, Sam’s voice. It’s been too long already.

  Sakima waits for me to enter the room, followed by Adam.

  “This would have been much easier had you eaten something,” he says, closing the door behind us.

  “I don’t understand why you are trying to medicate me, there was no need. You risk my life, my child’s life,” I tell him.

  “Let me tell you a little secret, Andromeda.” Sakima leans close to my face. I can see the pores on his face, a faint mole near his left eye. “This tour you are on, has nothing to do with us. You may give us some suggestions, but it is a continuation of your training.”

  I step back in disbelief. “I’m not in a training program. I’m only responsible for the pairings. I was sent to repeat my speech, to unite the Districts. That is what Crane told me.”

  “Do you pay attention to the things Crane tells you? Do you notice they usually hold an alternate meaning?” he pauses, giving me time to think. “Have you ever sat back and thought about what has happened to you, Andromeda? You’ve had to face the task of abandoning people in need to save your family. You’ve had to escape a city enraged with terror and crime to find your family. You did this with minimal assistance, without weapons, without combat training. You’ve fought to save your daughter, you’ve given Crane the ability to tweak the genetic code and create another breed of human, which is something he’s been working on for a long, long time. You’ve attempted escape and survived the punishment. You’ve recovered at the Pasture. We all know what’s been happening to you. We’ve been watching the whole time. You’ve managed to pass each test, each hurdle we’ve thrown at you, finding a way to survive, overcome it all while nurturing a very gifted child and now a fetus who will no doubt follow in your footsteps. Most would have given up by now. Don’t underestimate yourself, your worth, or what Crane asks of you. Because you have been being trained since the beginning.”

  “You know nothing about me,” I tell him calmly, trying to control the anger that’s been bubbling up inside me during his speech.

  “I know plenty. I also know that before you move up in the ranks, before you move on with your training, you have a task to complete in each District. And that task will come with a lesson, a lesson that is necessary for anyone who has been chosen as an Entity.”

  “Why do you people feel the need to teach me so many lessons? I didn’t choose this. I was never even asked.”

  “You are being primed.”

  “Primed for what?”

  “Perhaps I should give you a moment to figure it out. I’m sure it won’t take you long.” I watch as he picks up a small metal object from the table. “And neither will this.” It looks just like the instruments from tattooing day. Square and smooth. “Colonel Waters, I need her right shoulder.” Sakima orders Adam.

  Adam moves quickly, twisting my arm behind my back, just like he did earlier. He unbuttons the back of my blouse with his free hand, just far enough to push the fabric off my shoulder. Sakima walks towards me, the tattooing instrument in his hand and a stick of what I hope is the numbing agent in the other. He rubs the numbing cream on my exposed shoulder, allowing just a few moments for it to take effect.

  “With each lesson you learn,” Sakima continues. “You will earn the brand of that District. So you will never forget the decisions you have made. So you will never forget that being a leader of men takes sacrifice, sacrifice in many forms.”

  “This didn’t happen in Crystal River.”

  “Crystal River was an exception, it will be revisited, in time.”

  He presses the instrument to my skin and soon the air is filled with the stench of burning flesh. I twist my head and watch as the symbol of the Tonopah District slowly burns into my skin. Three drops of water arranged in a triangle.

  When he is done he leans towards me, whispering in my ear, “Do not be angry with Colonel Waters, he was not himself today. I have every confidence that tomorrow he will be back to normal. You may go. Enjoy the rest of your trip. I hear Washington is beautiful this time of the year.”

  CHAPTER twenty-one

  Colonel Yuma returns us to our train. The Guardians press their noses to the windows and push by me as I open the door. They growl and hiss at Yuma, herding my drugged companions into the engine car.

  “Goodbye, Andromeda,” Yuma tells me as I reach for the door. “Perhaps we will see you sometime soon?” He even smiles. He’s oblivious.

  “No, Yuma, I don’t plan on ever stepping foot in the Tonopah District again-not for the rest of my life.”

  I close the door, lock it and instruct our Volker to shoot anything that walks through it. I tell Alexander to go to his sleeping bunk and I give our Volker instructions to keep the train secure. Since I don’t have the code to run the train, we can’t leave tonight. I will have to wait for Adam to sleep off the medication before we can leave.

  I watch Adam as he lies in my narrow bunk. The realization comes to me that I could ask him anything right now. And he would answer me without hesitation, truthfully. There are a few questions that I can bring to mind. But I’m not sure if I could live with myself afterwards. After all, we promised to trust each other. Besides, he would never take advantage of me in this situation. He had the chance in Crystal River.

  I change into the black t-shirt that he gave me and lay on the bed next to him. “Put your arm around me, Adam,” I tell him.

  I wait for a moment to lay my head on his shoulder as he stretches his arm out, wrapping it around me. His heartbeat is the same, so is his smell and the heat that radiates off his body. It’s all the same, comforting. I lift my arm, staring at the purple imprint of Adam’s hand across my wrist.
“Go to sleep, Adam. In the morning, we are leaving this godforsaken place.”

  After this insightful day I can’t wait to escape the walls of the Tonopah District. I hope to never return. Nothing good will come of this place, only depraved people with little humanity left in them.

  --

  The route to Washington State takes over two days. It’s more than enough time to fill my travel companions in on what happened. Still, we’ve been gone for almost a week already, and with three stops left I find it hard to believe we’ll make it home on time as Crane promised.

  I scold Alexander for not filling me in on the true meaning of this tour. Then I drill him on the Hanford District. Alexander is uncomfortable for much of the trip. There’s no place for him to hide from me, besides pulling the thin door closed in his sleeping bunk. He has always been so passive, so quiet, always weighing his words and decisions. When I think about him, I find that he is much like I used to be; quiet, reserved. He’s much like I still am, when I’m not being pushed by the founding fathers of the Districts.

  Adam doesn’t take well to the news of what happened. I woke to find him inspecting the bruise on my wrist. As he held my hand up in the morning light, it only took him a moment to realize that the bruise across my wrist matched his hand perfectly. I didn’t show him my new brand from the Tonopah District. I didn’t have time. He pulled away from me, mumbling that he was sorry, that he had a headache, and then he hid at the helm of the engine car for the rest of the day.

  I could tell that he was angry, from his clenched jaw to his rigid posture. It didn’t help me deal with what we just went through, what I had learned from Sakima, what they had decided for me.

  That night he took the first shift navigating. I had been awake the whole night, staring out the window at the passing landscape, afraid to sleep, afraid what would show up in my dreams. I was surprised when he slid into the narrow bunk during the early hours of the morning when it was still dark enough to be considered night. He pressed his body close to mine. His hands roamed over me, merely hovering, sometimes kneading my shoulders and back. He whispered things in my ear, long strings of apologies, promises, lulling me to sleep. I still had so much to tell him, so much that he had missed.