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

by Pritchard, M. R.

  --

  Against the wishes of George and Adam I walk to the birthing center. Adam trails behind me, close enough so I know he’s there, but far enough that others may not suspect him. I know it will be filled with women-women who need to hear this from me before they hear it from George. Just before I get to the door I signal for Adam to stay outside. This is my mission, not his.

  I can see some of the women watching me approach through the glass front window. I reach for the metal door handle and pull the door open. The inside of the birthing center smells like baby soap. It smells like the NICU where I used to work. I push back the longing for my past life, the ease of it. I can’t deal with that right now. I smile at the room, placing my hands on my pregnant stomach. I’m not as far along as these women, but the action has the desired effect. They direct their attention down, noticing that I too am pregnant. Suddenly this pregnancy is a blessing, I am just like them. They will trust me, at least a little bit more now that they have a way to connect with me, we all have something in common.

  A woman in a pink flowing dress and long dark hair steps forward. “You must be Andromeda, we’ve been expecting you.”

  “You have?” I ask innocently.

  “How are you feeling?” she asks. “We hear you’ve been travelling for a long time now.”

  I smile. “I’m just tired,” I tell her with a slight sigh.

  “Yes, dear, I’m sure you are. You must rest. Come, sit and eat something.” She takes my hand, leading me to a table filled with fresh fruits and vegetables. I know I can’t eat this, no matter how trusting these people seem. The events of the last two Districts are still too fresh in my mind.

  “I’m sorry.” I do my best to smile at her. “I don’t really have time to relax. I have to be on the road soon. I have a daughter who I need to get home to.” At first, I’m worried as to how I might segue into what I need to tell them. So I decide to just say it. “I’m not sure if you know why I’m here, but I was sent by Crane to solve your District’s problem. Do you know who Crane is?” I watch as their heads bob up and down. Of course they know him. “Then you know that the failure of any District is forbidden and he will do whatever he can to ensure they prosper. I’ve been brought here because your population is out of control. While the other Districts have ample space for procreation, Hanford is running out of room. You can’t have more children. Not for at least fifteen years, maybe even longer.”

  The women start mumbling amongst themselves, obviously agitated by my words. “I say this because things will change if it doesn’t stop. Things that you’ve never dreamed of will begin to happen. I’ve seen the other Districts. I’ve seen how they are run. And to be honest with you all, I much rather enjoy it here. But if this doesn’t stop, you will be assigned another District Manager, the Volker will come in the thousands, people will be shipped off to other Districts, families split up, and some will be asked to leave altogether, banished amongst the Survivors.”

  I know the Entities are privy to the details of my life, but these women aren’t, so I tell them about it. I tell them everything about my life. About how I lost Ian, how I almost lost Lina, and how I have been ordered to tour the Districts, splitting me from my family. When I am done I show them the deep bruising across my wrist. I turn and pull up my shirt, showing them the scars across my back, the Tonopah seal burned into my skin, the lumps from healed bones.

  They gasp in horror and grip their abdomens. They whisper and chat and sigh in sympathy for me. When this begins, I know what I have done will work. Because even intelligent women gossip. If I tell a few dozen now, they’ll have the word spread by bedtime. I do this with one expectation in mind, to instill fear in them. Fear is an excellent motivator. If these women don’t fear for themselves then they will fear for the safety of their children. And they will do exactly what I did: protect them at all costs.

  --

  “Well, Andie, your work is done here.” George tells me with a relieved smile. “You know what needs to be done now.”

  How could I forget? “Yes, George.” I sigh. Adam’s eyes flit between us.

  I unbutton the top three buttons of my shirt and pull my shoulder out. The image from Tonopah is only three days old and not completely healed. As George preps my skin I stare at the large map of North America that hangs on his wall. I avoid eye contact with Adam. I’m quite certain he doesn’t know about this. My mandatory branding for a job I never wanted, one I never got the chance to disagree about. When George is done, he places a transparent film over both of the brands.

  “This will help them heal faster,” he tells me.

  “George, is there any way you can connect me to Phoenix? To my home? I need to talk to my family, my daughter,” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says without hesitation. “Just let me find your number.”

  I wait patiently as he searches a pile of papers on his desk. I find it odd. He is so kind, not cutthroat like the rest of them. He’s like Morris, and I will never forget his kindness.

  “What was that all about?” Adam asks from behind me. “Why do you have the other District tattoos on your back?”

  I look away from the deep crease forming between his eyes. “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Ah, here it is!” George holds up a small piece of yellow paper. He picks up the phone on his desk, punches a few buttons, then hands the receiver to me. I hold my breath while the phone rings, praying someone will answer and that nothing has happened.

  “Ah, hello?” I hear Sam’s voice answer.

  “Sam? Is that you?”

  “Yes, Andie?” he asks.

  “Yes, Oh my God, Sam! I can’t believe it worked.”

  Sam tells me that all is well at home. They are fine, nothing has happened. I’m able to talk to Lina for a short bit. Telling her I’ll be home soon. Hanging the phone up was almost as hard as leaving. I don’t want to be here. At least I had safety at the Pasture, I had protection, and I had my family. Out here I’m exposed and it’s a feeling I don’t like.

  “Can you write down that number for us, George?” Adam asks.

  He pulls a small piece of paper off the desk and transcribes the number onto it.

  “What do you want the number for?” I ask Adam.

  He leans close. “Because I have a cell phone and it works,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Well, collect your things. I’ve been ordered to fly you to Alaska,” George tells us as he sorts through this messy desk, not noticing that Adam was whispering secrets in my ear.

  I remember the planes from the artillery lab. “Flying?” I ask.

  “Yes, you’re flying to Alaska. The District there is called Galena. Then you’ll fly back here to resume your travels. We’ve all agreed, the train is fast, but it will take too long. The Canadian territories are still in disarray, we can’t be sure the tracks haven’t been disrupted. Flying will be safer and faster.”

  CHAPTER twenty-two

  As we collect a few things from the train Adam tells me about his phone. It’s the cell phone he took off his contact during the bombings. He’s been holding on to it ever since, hopeful the secure tower will still be working. He found a charger in Crystal River, when they went outside the District walls to search for supplies and people. Since George has been so lax on keeping track of us here, Adam had time to plug the charger in and turn the phone on. Now we have a way to call home, Sam has a way to contact us, and Adam has a way to contact whoever is left of his government superiors.

  When George told us we were flying I was expecting a plane. Instead he brings us to a long, double propeller helicopter. I’ve seen these before, flying over Phoenix on their way to the northern military bases.

  “Haven’t seen one of these in a while.” Adam slaps the side of the dark green machine. “It’s a Boeing Chinook,” he turns to me. “Last time I was in one of these I was flying over Iraq.” His smile melts away as soon as the words roll of his tongue. He’s remembering.

  “Let’s go, Co
lonel Waters.” I pull at his sleeve, thinking of ways I can distract him from remembering what happened to him in that sandy desert. As we round the back of the helicopter I see it is packed with crates and a few extra people. “What’s all this?” I ask George.

  “Supplies for the Galena District and a few Sovereign to fly this beauty.” He turns to Adam. “There are weapons and ammunition for you and your Volker, if you should need them.”

  Adam nods. He says nothing. His eyes have turned dark, his lips pressed into a straight line.

  Alexander returns as I’m leading the four Guardians onto the helicopter. He is accompanied by a young man, who looks just like a younger version of himself. It’s easy to see Alexander does not want to leave this place, no more than I wanted to leave Phoenix. I think to myself how awful would it be if I were assigned to another District, leaving all my family behind, my children. I push the thought from my mind. That is something I will never let happen.

  We say our goodbyes and board the Chinook. We meet our pilots, Captains Chase and Devin, who assure us they’ve flown these particular helicopters many times. Adam helps me with the strange belts, fastening me into the seat I’ve chosen near a small window. He sits next to me, fastening himself in. I watch George from the window. He shields his ears as the propellers start up. Then he’s backing away, almost tipping over from the force of the propeller blades. He points to someone standing near the wall. I notice something falling from the ceiling. It’s tan, almost clear. When I look up I see it’s sand falling from the glass ceiling as it opens just wide enough to let the airborne helicopter through. We rise into the atmosphere above Washington State.

  --

  We fly to the coast. Unable to avoid flying over Seattle, the pilots warn us as we approach, giving us the option to shy away or close our eyes. Instead we all peer out the small windows, eager. The devastation is the same as it’s been elsewhere-deep pockets of exploded earth, buildings blown in half. The Chinook flies low enough for us to see Survivors pointing at the sky.

  The worst part is seeing the Seattle space needle. Everyone knows what the space needle is, even if you’ve never been there. It’s broken in half, the needled tower now pointing to the ground, instead of high in the sky, held together by a few pieces of blackened, bent metal.

  The energy in the Chinook has changed in just a short time. There was a slight exhilaration, an excitement for our helicopter ride. Now it’s replaced by a collective somberness. The pilots do their best to avoid Vancouver, but they can’t get far enough away to hide the rising plumes of smoke coming from the city. Not soon enough we are at the coastline, following it to the tiny town in Alaska where the Galena District is.

  The pictures out the window are replaced with nature, mountains, snow and ocean. There are no more demolished cities or towns to look at.

  “Why did they choose Alaska?” I ask Alexander.

  “We still need oil,” he tells me. “Oil production and alternative energy research. That is what the Galena District specializes in.”

  “It seems kind of far away to me.”

  “Yes, it is. But to be self sustaining, the Entities agreed to only use natural resources within our continent.”

  “How do they plan on transporting across the Canadian territories?”

  “Soon there will be no difference, Canada and the U.S. will become one. The Districts will work together.” Alexander leans his head against the wall, closing his eyes. I’m guessing he’s done talking for the time being.

  I hear a soft tapping coming from Adam’s seat. I turn to find him rapidly tapping his fingers on his knee, the muscles in his jaw tightly clenched. Being transported in a military helicopter must be bringing back his memories of the Middle East. I’m sure when his broken body was transported to Germany it was in something similar to this helicopter.

  I reach out and take his hand. It doesn’t do much. He just keeps tapping with the other hand. I wish that I could do something for him, that there was something I could say to reciprocate for all the times he has helped me escape the memories with soft conversations whispered in my ear. Up here I have nothing to work with. Everyone is pretending to be occupied or sleeping, but I’m sure they are watching us. I feel the slight throbbing in my abdomen, the baby kicking. I take his hand and place it over my stomach so he can feel the movement. It doesn’t stop the tapping, or the clenching in his face.

  I lean over and whisper in his ear, “Perhaps you could close your eyes and think of a name for your son.”

  I watch as his tapping slows and his face softens. I suddenly don’t care if anyone is watching us. I place my hand over his. They must have figured out what’s going on between us. It’s been over a week. I’m sure they’ve seen Adam sneaking into my bunk in the middle of the night, the way we watch each other. These people are too smart not to have figured out that Adam is the father of my baby and that we’ve been sneaking around, trying to hide it.

  --

  I’ve been watching the ocean, hopeful that I might see a whale for the first time in my life. But I see nothing, just vast blue sea. As the helicopter continues on I notice a change in the water. The dark blue turns into a slight purple color, then a deep rusted red.

  The ocean is red.

  I’ve heard of the toxic red tides, which have occurred all over the world, when harmful bacteria blooms threaten the wildlife. But this looks so different.

  I kick at Alexander’s feet, trying to wake him from his fake sleep. “The ocean is red.”

  He doesn’t even open his eyes. “Yes, I know this.”

  “Why is it red?”

  “Someone seeded it with iron, in hopes to pull carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere.”

  I want to ask Alexander why he is being so distant, so standoffish. It’s getting annoying. I get the sense something bad may be in store for us here. Worse than what we’ve already encountered.

  Devin warns us that we are about to land.

  There is a small airport below us and a group of people waiting. As we get closer, one of our Volker speaks for the first time. “Oh my God, it’s President Berkley.”

  I lean over to look out his window and see the President of the United States standing next to the landing pad. He wears a suit, a dark blue tie, a tiny pin of an eagle on his pocket.

  As we unload and walk over to him he shakes my hand first. “I hear you like to be called Andie. Nice to finally meet you.” He has dark black skin and blue eyes. A combination I’ve never seen before in any person. It’s probably one of the reasons he was elected-his good looks, his charm. I’m sure they didn’t hinder him during the elections. Still, I can’t help but feel something about him reminds me of Baillie. Before I have a chance to respond he moves on to Adam. “Colonel Waters,” he salutes Adam. Whatever Adam is feeling by seeing President Berkley, he’s hiding it well. “Welcome to the Galena District,” Berkley tells all of us.

  The pilots stay with the helicopter, refilling it with fuel for our flight home and unloading the crates sent from Hanford.

  The small airport happens to be the District Headquarters, so we walk to the main entrance. The Volker stare. I stare. Adam stares. Alexander looks to his feet as he walks. I was told that Berkley took part in the planning, but seeing him in person makes it all too real.

  “I take it you saw our red ocean on your way in?” He asks me as we walk.

  “Alexander says it was seeded with iron,” I tell him.

  “Yes, the result of a rogue scientist. Someone unaware of the changes which were about to take effect.” He looks directly at me. “By that I mean the bombings.” I catch him glance at Adam, who has been watching President Berkley intently since we arrived. “He had hoped to lower the atmospheric carbon dioxide levels caused by the large population, by the pollution. Well, they shifted, drastically. Without the pollution to counteract the effects of the seeding, the algae bloomed. Now, we have the red ocean. And we have no fish to eat, no fish to export, no fish for the wildlife to eat. We�
�ve resorted to hunting moose and bear in the mountains.”

  It occurs to me this must be why our winter was so bad, why we had so much snow, more than I’ve ever seen. Without planning on it, this man changed the atmosphere.

  “So what happened to the person who did this?” I ask.

  “We have him in custody, of course.” President Berkley flashes me a bright smile, proud that he apprehended the offender.

  Something tells me I should not trust this man. Not even a tiny bit. I already know from Adam that he is one of the masterminds of this. He must be a Funding Entity. I can tell I’m right by the look Adam gives me as he holds open the door to Headquarters. He stops each of our Volker, whispering some command to each of them. It’s another one of those moments where I want to turn around and run away.

  Berkley stops in the reception area, turning to us and crossing his arms. I take note of the Volker guarding the doors. We are not taken to a Committee room, or given the local Manifesto to review. No, something seems odd with this visit.

  “His name is Norman Eckstein,” Berkley tells us.

  “Is that the man who put the iron in the water?” I ask.

  “Yes, one of our Sovereign, and I need you to deal with him.”

  “Deal with him?” I look to the others in my group, unsure of what he’s hinting at.

  “He’s a criminal-look what he did to the ocean. This cannot be tolerated. An example needs to be made of him.”

  “But if he’s a scientist, he’s Sovereign and he’s protected. Your District needs him.” I look to Alexander, who merely walks towards the door as if he’s going to leave. He will not help me talk my way out of this.

  “Not anymore,” Berkley tells me. “We’ve done fine without him for this long. He can be replaced. Besides, Hanford is teeming with scientists.”

  “What am I suppose to do with him? You want me to escort him to your gates, evict him from your District? Your Volker can do that for you.”