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

by Pritchard, M. R.

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  The Hanford District happens to be an old nuclear site, originally a small town condemned by the Federal Government for a failed nuclear power plant. Leaving behind millions of cubic feet of radioactive waste, it gave the government the perfect guise for what was built on the property. The electrified fence has been in place here for decades. And when they removed the contaminated soil during the cleanup they dug down deep, building levels upon levels of underground facilities and moving the nuclear reactors underground. The cleanup gave them the perfect excuse to build even more facilities above ground, all in the name of research.

  The government funded research brought hundreds of scientists and engineers to the area. And they brought their families, more scientists, children who became scientists, medical personnel, doctors. The area was flooded with the intellectually elite. They studied radiation, medical radiation, manufactured weapons of mass destruction. You name it and they did it in Hanford.

  I expect there will be many Sovereign here.

  When I think I’ve learned enough about the Hanford District to not be surprised, I am finally able to relax. Alexander won’t tell me about the problem with this District. He tells me that the Entities need to be able to judge my reactions, reactions without preparation. I feel bad for yelling at him, since he is usually such a genuinely nice person. But I’m still angry that he didn’t fill me in on all the details.

  A sign comes into view as the train slows, entering the Hanford District. It’s pale, rusted, blue and white, stating this is a Restricted Government Area, property of the United States Department of Energy. Whatever was written on the bottom half of the sign has rubbed off from years of exposure to the elements. We are all thankful to see there are no Survivors camped outside this fence begging to get in.

  According to Alexander they used to provide tours here. Tours highlighting the abandoned high school and telling the tourists that it was used for SWAT and firefighter training. From the smashed out windows and blackened walls, it looks like it’s abandoned, except for the tracks and freshly built platform next to the aged building. There is one person waiting on the platform for us. One man, dressed in khaki pants and a red button down shirt. The summer breeze blows at his bangs, covering up the thick glasses perched on the end of his nose. He takes the glasses off, cleaning them on his shirt as we prepare to step off the train. There’s not a single Volker within view.

  Adam puts on a backpack. It’s filled with food, water and guns. Just in case. We let the Guardians exit first. The man doesn’t seem surprised at all to see the large dogs.

  “Hello,” he greets us immediately. “You all must be from Phoenix. I’m George, George Crossbender. We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to the Hanford District.”

  Since no one else moves I step forward, holding out my hand to greet him. He smiles, showing a row of crooked teeth. “Ah yes, Andromeda, right?” he gives me a firm handshake.

  “Call me Andie. Where are your Volker?” I ask him.

  “Well, we don’t use many of them here, they aren’t necessary.”

  I continue shaking his hand, turning it just slightly, so I can see the District brand on his wrist, the same way Sakima did to each of us when we arrived in Tonopah. Their brand has a dark circular center, and thin elliptical lines surrounding it. I have to stare for a moment before I realize I’m looking at the image of an atom, complete with tiny electrons and their orbits.

  “Ah yes, the brand.” George has noticed me inspecting his wrist. “The atom. Fundamental to all living organisms, but you know that already.” I release his hand and step away so he can greet the others.

  George reminds me of the few guys I used to hang out with in high school and college. The sweet super geeky ones who were great to talk to and willing to help you with anything. I miss those kinds of people. I miss their awkward laughs and quirky ticks. It makes me wonder how he got mixed up with the Funding Entities.

  “So, what would you like to see first?” George asks, pushing his glasses into place with his index finger.

  For a moment no one says anything. Then Alexander speaks up, “I would like to see the engineering laboratories. Andie might be interested in your genetics lab or the nuclear medicine lab. And I’m sure Colonel Waters would find your experimental artillery lab interesting.”

  “I don’t think we should be splitting up,” Adam tells Alexander.

  “Forgive me, Colonel Waters, for interjecting, but it is safe here. I can assure you.” George holds his three fingers up in the air. “Boy scouts honor.”

  I exchange an uneasy glance with Adam. George seems so innocent, so easy to trust. He’s not like the others. I hope.

  “Well, we still have to make it to the lower levels, so decide on the way. Follow me.” George walks down the steps leading off the platform, headed for the desolate high school building.

  Alexander walks with George while our Volker and the Guardians disperse themselves between us. George leads us into the abandoned building. There’s broken glass and burned boards strewn about. We walk to the middle of the building, stopping underneath the stairwell which would have been used to climb to the upper levels of the building-if it weren’t in such a dilapidated state. There is a partially burned door. George reaches for the doorknob, pulling it open. Inside there is a small room, it’s freshly painted, well lit, and contains a set of stainless steel elevator doors. This room definitely looks out of place in this building. He pushes the arrow pointed down and in an instant there is a light ding and the elevator doors open.

  George steps into the shiny elevator, holding the door open for us. “Everybody on, we can all fit,” he encourages us.

  There’s enough space, but barely. I can feel the heat from one of the Guardian’s hot breath on the back of my leg and I’m pushed so close to Adam that I can feel his heartbeat thumping against my shoulder, against my right shoulder, which now bears the Tonopah District image. I hold in a flinch as he moves slightly, my shirt rubbing against the sore skin.

  The moment the elevator doors open, which only takes a few seconds, we rush out of the cramped area into a space which I can only describe as looking like the inside of a shopping mall. There are wide open walkways, what look like store fronts, balconies, and bright sunlight. I walk to the edge of the balcony, and standing against the railing, I look up to see a glass ceiling with the slightest cover of tan sand, just enough to block the sun’s harmful rays, yet allowing in most of the natural light. I look down and see the levels extend into the earth for at least another seven floors.

  Then the faces start to appear. All of them leaning against the balcony railings, hundreds of them, looking up at us.

  “I’m headed to the lab.” Alexander waves at us as he walks away, down one of the long hallways.

  I turn to George, surprised at Alexander abandoning us so quickly in this new place. “I’m guessing he never told you he’s been here before?” George tells me.

  “No, not ever,” I reply.

  “He worked here, before all this started. He has children, grandchildren, other family members living here. He’s probably off to see them. So, have you decided what you would like to see first?”

  The laboratory sounds interesting, but after being stuck on the train for so long I just want to stretch my legs and relax. “Actually, I think I would like to see the artillery lab,” I tell them. This way Adam can do all the talking and I can wander behind them and try to figure out what the problem is here.

  We follow George down another long hallway. I peer into what I thought were store windows, only to find each space filled with people sitting at desks.

  “Classrooms,” George tells me. “This upper level houses the high school classrooms, there are more on the lower levels, many more. You’ll have to excuse the mess. We’re just running out of space down here.”

  “There are so many students,” I say. Each room is filled.

  “Yes, yes, there are.” George picks up his pace, apparently lo
st in thought as our conversation dies out.

  The hallway seems to extend for forever, and just as I’m about to tell them I need to sit and take a break, we come upon an elevator. George presses the down button and we descend further into the earth. This time, when the doors open, we are at an underground train platform.

  “We have to take the subway to the artillery unit,” George tells us.

  The train arrives almost immediately, packed with a load of people. They empty out, weaving around us, talking quietly, smiling. Each of us selects a seat in the now cleared subway car. The subway car is immaculate, there’s not a speck of trash and the smooth metal walls are polished and shiny.

  “You must have quite the Orderly faction to keep this place so clean?” I ask.

  “No, not down here, there are no Residents underground. Up there,” he points to the ceiling, “there are a few, not many. We take it upon ourselves to run this District in its entirety. Everyone picks up after themselves. Everyone has assigned duties, as well as their duties as Sovereign.”

  Before I can ask him more questions the subway comes to a stop. We follow George down a short hallway, and as we walk through the door of the glass walled area I try to control my jaw from letting my mouth hang open. It’s absolutely magnificent. The space is huge and cavernous, large enough to fit more than a few jumbo jets. It extends further than I can see. The rocky walls are lined with green vines, and the ceiling is the same as before, thick glass with a thin coating of sand, the bright sunlight that filters through lights most of the space.

  We walk down a set of metal stairs, the Volker and Guardians trailing behind us as George talks. “This is the Artillery Research Unit, or the ARU, that’s what we call it. As you can see there’s plenty of space down here. It extends for almost fifteen miles to the South and then there are a few spaces off to the side. This space houses weapons development, aircraft, nuclear warfare research, and armor development.”

  The work area is filled with people. Some sit at computers, others stand at tables. I let Adam and George fall into a conversation about bullets and armored vests. I trail behind, stopping at times to watch the workers. Three of them stand around a table. They file down bright metals, measure distances, discuss trajectories. To me it looks like they are working on some type of bullet. I watch their hands, noticing that almost everyone has the Hanford District brand on their wrists.

  Through a large window cut into the rock wall I can see there are jets and small planes in the cavern next to us. I haven’t seen an airplane or a helicopter since I abandoned my patients over two years ago and left the hospital to return home. The discovery is slightly comforting, knowing that the Entities have not lost the technologies of aeronautics.

  This is how the afternoon progresses, the men talking, me observing, taking in how much they are doing here. It isn’t long before I come to the conclusion that if the Hanford District has so many people devoted to artillery research, then they must have the largest arsenal of all the Districts. They must have the deadliest weapons here, weapons capable of taking out entire countries, weapons capable of destroying the United States, weapons capable of signaling the re-start of the human race. This seems to be the most Sovereign concentrated District of them all, and also, the most deadly. They seem so organized, functioning as a well-oiled machine.

  It seems to me that there is no reason why the ultimate control over all the Districts isn’t coming from this location. Someone or something has control over them all. And just as it seemed in the other Districts, I’m sure it’s Crane.

  “Would you like to see the Molecular Research Unit?” George interrupts my thoughts. I turn to see that he and Adam have circled back to where I am standing.

  “Sure,” I tell him. Adam raises his eyebrows at me. I’m sure I had some odd look on my face, being so deep in thought.

  We return to the subway. The Molecular Research Unit is above ground, in the government built research facilities. This subway ride is a little longer but getting above ground is nice. I’m not sure how they can live down there.

  “You make the medication here?” I ask George, staring at the placard on the wall of the research facilities. It points towards what is called the “Resident Medication Manufacturing Lab.”

  “Yes, it’s manufactured here. Actually, it’s named Halcyon.” He pushes at his glasses and his hair. “The others don’t like to use the name, they tell us it’s in case someone tries to trace where it’s manufactured.”

  “Have you had a problem with someone trying to find out where it’s made?” I ask.

  “No, not yet, but one can never be too careful.” He shrugs as he walks down a hallway. Adam and I follow him.

  “Are you okay?” Adam asks me as we trail behind George.

  “Yeah,” I respond. “Why?”

  “You look, tired, or something.”

  “Hmm. I’m fine. I think.” I tell him, realizing that I am suddenly quite tired.

  The molecular genetics lab is impressive, but it’s not quite as large as the artillery lab. Still, it’s filled with expensive instruments, computers and plenty of scientists in white lab coats. Now I see how Crane was able to stock the lab he provided for me. They have at least three of everything here. After smiling and shaking dozens of hands, I begin to feel the effects of walking around all day. I reach for the backpack, digging for something to eat and drink. Just as I open a bottle of water George suggests we go to Headquarters and I agree without argument.

  We walk outside now down a well traveled road, but there are no cars, only people walking on foot or riding bicycles. George points to buildings as we walk, naming off what they are used for. There’s a building to collect rations, a place to drop off the harvests, a place for fabrics and clothing, and a large medical facilities building. The path we walk is well worn, and people start to trickle out of the nearby buildings, watching us as we pass. It’s when we pass a building labeled “Natural Birthing Center” that I stop and stare. Inside I can see dozens of women, their lower abdomens fully extended in the last days of pregnancy, much further along than I am.

  “You have a birthing center?” I ask George.

  “Yes, well, we let them choose, they can birth here or at the medical facilities.” He starts to push at his glasses, but stops, rubbing at the back of his neck instead.

  “There must be dozens of women in there, George, in their last trimester of pregnancy. How many more are there?” I ask.

  “Perhaps we should go back to my office and talk. I don’t want them to see you upset.” He glances towards the birthing center. “The women here, they don’t take well to the men distressing those with child, such as yourself.”

  We make our Volker and the Guardians wait outside the door. The office is small and piles of papers and books line the walls.

  I cut to the chase. “How many are there, George?” I ask him.

  “Well, I don’t have exact numbers, some of them don’t come in for care until they are about to deliver.” He gives a nervous laugh, pushing up his glasses. “You see the people here are so smart and they have so much education that they don’t feel the need to check in. They feel like they can care for themselves in these situations.”

  “So how many do you know of, right now, who are ready to deliver?”

  “Well, right now there’s about seventy-five…” he raises his eyebrows at me, hopeful that I can figure it out without him telling me.

  Seventy-five pregnant women who are ready to deliver, that’s seventy-five new mouths to feed, new clothes to make. Then I remember what he told me not so long ago: we don’t have the room down here anymore. I remember the classrooms filled with students. I know the problem with Hanford, they need to stop having babies.

  “George, what are you thinking?” I ask him. “Do you need some ruthless new leader here? You have to enforce the rules. The population needs to be controlled. Your Sovereign need to resume birth control methods, or ship them out. There’s room in Crystal City,
there’s room in Tonopah and Phoenix. If they want to stay here, they need to start following the rules.”

  George lets out a sigh of exasperation. “You don’t understand, Andie, the Sovereign are unified on many levels, but this one… I’m afraid we took in too many.”

  “This is the reason the Funding Entities made the Districts. The reason why they tore apart this country and the rest of the world-overpopulation. If the others find out what’s going on here you know what’s going to happen. You’re going to lose this District, and I don’t mean lose control of it. Crane is going to decimate your population. We can’t stand to lose all these gifted people if he takes matters into his own hands.”

  “Yes, yes, I suppose.” He continues to fidget, pushing at his glasses, swiping at his hair. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard to get them to listen.”

  “You will be saddled with thousands of elderly Sovereign, then you will have to assign people to care for them. The resources aren’t there. You can't allow this any longer. You have to put your foot down, George.”

  “Yes, I suppose I do.” He responds meekly.

  It seems he’s not taking this seriously enough. He’s not stepping up and facing this problem. Of all the people I’ve met, I really like George. He’s the type of person I’d be friends with, if things weren’t the way they are. But I can’t let him continue on like this. I can’t bear to think of what Crane would do to him and this place.

  Now I see why Crane and Sakima are so ruthless. And now, I have a tiniest bit of empathy for the control they've been able to gain over their people.

  It only takes me a few moments to formulate my plan. I don’t even bother discussing it with George or Adam.