The Phoenix Project Series: Books 1-3: The Phoenix Project, The Reformation, and Revelation
Page 51
I guess that man named Crane runs this place now. Picking up the Manifesto I flip to the dog-eared page of Andie. Memories. I wonder if she knows what they’ve done to me, or where they’re keeping me. I wonder what they’ve done to her.
There is a knock on the door. Usually there are no visitors after dinner. Just bed and then work in the morning. It’s funny that he would lock me up but still expect me to work for him. Unless it’s Tuesday, on Tuesdays they bring that woman and that child who looks just like me. He’s supposed to be mine, a boy. God, Andie and I tried so long for another baby. Anyways, I don’t remember having an affair with another woman. I’m sure I would remember cheating on my wife with another woman, someone I don’t know. She pretends to know me when she visits with the child.
I hear the jingle of keys outside the door. Closing the Manifesto I let my face go slack as the door opens.
“Ah, Ian,” I hear the voice of Crane. He looks to the Manifesto in my hand. “I see you’ve been reading up on the District.” Nodding at him I try not to breathe. I don’t want to smell his rotting-flower stench. “How have you been feeling?” he asks, searching my face. I shrug. “Hmm,” he scratches his chin. “It shouldn’t be long now, Ian, you’re almost weaned off of what we gave you.” I blink twice. “Let me see that Manifesto.” He holds his hand out. I place the Manifesto in his hand. I don’t ask questions. The Residents don’t ask questions. I’ve seen that from my co-workers. They do what they’re told. He flips to the page I was looking at. “You remember her?” He asks me, pointing to the picture of Andie. “Do you remember Andromeda?”
“I think so,” I say in a monotone voice. “I remember something about her,” I lie. I remember that she hates being called Andromeda. She likes to be called Andie.
He nods his head. I let my eyes flit to the open door. I could take him. He’s smaller than I am. Inches shorter, over a head shorter, and a little pudgy. I could take him down and finally get out of here. The problem is what do I do once I’ve made it out? I know Andie isn’t here. I saw her leave on that train. But Lina is, she’s at some place called the Pasture. No, I won’t punch him and run. I’ll keep up the act. It’s gotten me out of here a few times. And I got to see things, read things, sneak around when they expected me to be sitting in a chair for hours. The idiots.
Crane tosses the Manifesto on my bed. “Well, my boy.” He pats my arm. “You should be back to normal soon enough. Just a few more days and you’ll be done with your titration. And then…” He looks into my eyes, his are green, like Andie’s, and I hate that. “Then you will be back to normal and we can continue on with our plan.”
Good. Back to normal. I wonder if that means I get my family back? Either way, I can eat again without having that mind-numbing medication they put in the food cursing through me. Hopefully the acid-trip moments I’ve experience from time to time will go away. There’s nothing worse than coming-to and realizing you’ve lost hours, or days of your life.
“Good-night, Ian,” Crane tells me.
I just stare at him. I don’t want him to know that I’ve been off the medication for a while now.
He leaves, locking the door behind him.
Yup, still a holding cell.
I pick up the Manifesto and flop onto the bed. My body is jolted, the wind knocked out of me when I hit the hard bed frame under the mattress. No springs. Cheap-asses. I open the Manifesto to her picture.
There are some things that I remember. Yeah, some things I remember really well. I think it’s more than they had anticipated. I remember waking up to the earthquake. I remember how those people showed up right afterwards, stabbing me in the neck with a needle. Then it was foggy. I remember Catalina. But I was different. I couldn’t respond the right way to things. I can’t explain it, how it felt. But they took her, that lady in black with armed men. I wanted to do something-anything-to stop them, but I couldn’t. My mind, my muscles, they weren’t working together in the right ways. I just watched as they took her, wanting to run after them and take her back. I wanted to do something. I felt paralyzed.
I know Andie blames me for them taking Lina. That was apparent in her apprehension on the tracks. When she hugged me before she left. There was a look on her face, hesitation that shouldn’t have been there. I guess I would have blamed her too.
But now, too much time has passed. I have to get them back. If I play along I’ll get them back. I know I will. I have to.
Back to the tour.
CHAPTER twenty-four
Andie
To say the Wolf Creek District is beautiful would be an understatement. It’s amazing. The tracks are elevated, allowing us to see for miles within the fence. There are reservoirs on each side of the track and luscious prairies in-between. Spread throughout are herds of animals, roaming freely. From this distance I can’t tell exactly what they are, some look like buffalo, others look like horses and deer.
This District is responsible for wildlife repopulation. Helping domesticated animals learn to survive on their own, without human interference. The District brand is in the shape of a double helix, a single strand of DNA. I notice it as soon as John Blackmore, the Sovereign that greets us, shakes my hand. He’s warm, relaxed, he reminds me of Elvis.
I try to smile and be polite, but the dull headache from the day before remains. Then there’s the ache deep in my chest from Adam’s words, from him denying me. I denied him enough times, told him to go away, but he always came back. I wonder if this is how he felt, like there was a black-hole in his chest.
Alexander finally catches on that I’m not feeling well.
“John, how about you show us the enclosures, show Andie what you’ve been working on here,” he suggests.
“Sure, follow me.” John takes us to a bus and instructs the Volker at the wheel to take us to the breeding barns.
From the ground the District looks even more amazing. It seems to be split in half by another fencing system, the Residents and Sovereign on one side, animals on the other. I lean my forehead against the window and close my eyes. Hoping the cool glass may be able to hold off some of the headache. I’m tired, exhausted. There was no sleep for me last night. The discomfort of my body, and of knowing something wasn’t right with Adam kept me awake. For the first time on this trip he didn’t bother to sneak into my bunk, which can only mean he did not sleep either.
The tour of the barn starts off as I would expect any barn tour. I feel like I’m at the state fair. The scent of fresh hay mixed with animal waste permeates the barn. We start off looking at foals, goats, chickens, and various animals that have been domesticated for hundreds of years. Then, things start to get strange. As John walks, introducing the animals, how they’ve behaved being introduced to the wild, he becomes quiet towards the back end of the barn. Perhaps he was waiting to see our reactions before he said anything. We stare at the odd specimens before us. There are about twenty large rabbits with four ears instead of the usual two.
“This is where the troubling aspect of our work begins,” he tells us.
There’s a giraffe, its long graceful neck bent at odd angles, its head tipped off to the side. The next stall holds three large animals, what I assume are water buffalo, except there isn’t a strand of hair on their body, the horns have only developed into smooth nubs. As we progress on, the specimens in the breeding barn get worse, which I didn’t think was possible. There’s a herd of cows with extra limbs hanging off their bodies, their udders smooth and flat. Initially, the last animal looks as though the mutations may not be as grotesque. That is, until the black stallion raises its neck and turns towards us. There are two heads, melded together, three eyes, each of them a haze of white cataracts. I take a few steps back as the horse walks towards us, sniffing the air with three nostrils, sensing we are there. It whinnies out of its too wide mouth, with too many teeth.
“I thought you were breeding the animals here? What happened to these creatures?” I ask in disgust.
“Well, since you have
such a strong background in genetics we were hoping you could help solve this problem,” John tells me calmly. He doesn’t seem to be as disturbed by these bizarre animals as we are.
“Who’s in charge of your genetics program?” I ask.
“Dr. Belamy Drake. He was chosen for this before we started, he was on the list as one of the best geneticists.”
I know this name. “Dr. Drake from Ohio? From the Institute for Genetic Enhancements?” I ask.
“Yes, that’s where he was taken from,” John replies
This means one thing. The man running their genetics program is my old boss, the reason why I stopped doing my research, the reason why I left and became a nurse. Dr. Drake was the first person I ever truly hated.
“Do you know him?” John asks, perplexed by my silence.
But he should know. I’m sure Crane knew, that’s why he was chosen for this task, for this test. “Yes, John, Dr. Drake was my old boss,” I tell him. “And I’m not looking forward to seeing him again,” I mumble to myself.
John brings us to another building next to the barn. There are cages of animals, laboratory equipment, a few people working at the lab benches. John crosses the room and knocks on a door. Of course, it wouldn’t surprise me that Dr. Drake would be hiding in his office and not taking part in the work. That’s what he always did.
The door opens and a man steps out. He’s wearing glasses and a lab coat. He’s younger than Dr. Drake, with clear eyes and dark hair. I can only assume he’s another one of the workers or his assistant. John brings him over to us.
“I would like to introduce you to Dr. Belamy Drake,” John tells us.
The man holds out his hand, ready to greet us, a smile on his face.
“That is not Dr. Drake,” I inform John.
Dr. Drake is older, much older, with yellowed eyes, and an alcoholic paunch. I’m almost relieved that it’s not him and I don’t have to feel his wandering gaze grazing over me. That gaze that reminds me how much he despises me. At least the feeling is mutual.
John looks from me to the impersonator. I can see the wheels churning. He’s making sense of why this program produced such horrid creatures. Something went drastically wrong here. The Sovereign were not properly identified. Someone was placed in charge of this project that had no background, no knowledge, no expertise. This is a failure. And failures are not allowed under any of the District guidelines.
By this time my head is pounding. My feet ache. I sit at one of the lab benches. John empties the lab, telling the workers to go home for the day. I listen as Adam and John interrogate the man.
“What was I suppose to do?” The impersonator repeats. “I had no choice, they were going to kill me.”
“Who was going to kill you?” Adam asks the man.
“Everyone, all of them. I couldn’t stay there in that wreckage. They were hunting us like animals.”
“Who was hunting you?” Adam asks.
“The Survivors.”
“And you were afraid of them?”
“Everyone was afraid of them. I’m sure whoever is left out there still fears them.”
“But you were a Survivor?” John asks the man.
“Not the same. I call them Survivors because that’s what you people call them. There are gangs. Groups of people fighting for power, for food. It’s just like hell out there. Maybe even worse.”
Adam crosses his arms and rocks back on his feet, contemplating his next move.
“You would have done the same thing.” The impersonator points at each of us. “You can’t tell me that every single one of you wouldn’t have done the same thing.” His eyes are red, panicked. “It’s like a little club you have here. You don’t know what it’s like, knowing that there were people allowed to live, to be safe, allowed to come here and live in peace!”
“So you thought impersonating a scientist was the right thing to do?” John asks the impersonator.
“You would have done the same,” he repeats. His shoulders slump in defeat, his lies discovered. “You would have done whatever you could to stay alive.”
“Where is the real Dr. Drake?” John asks.
“Hell if I know.” The man rubs his face and eyes. “There were bodies all over that lab. The only reason I hid there was because I figured the Survivors wouldn’t show up there a second time.”
“So you think he’s dead?” Adam asks.
The man shrugs. “Wouldn’t be surprised, lot of people died.”
“What’s your real name?” Adam asks.
“Garret Blum.”
“What did you do before all of this?”
“I was a plumber. Can you believe that? Not a toilet works in all that mess out there. But here, runs so smooth you don’t even need a plumber. I did good in science though. Read a lot. Couldn’t afford to go to a University. I know you are looking for people.”
I turn to Alexander who has decided to stand next to me. “Is he on the list?” I ask.
Alexander shakes his head.
“You sure?”
“He’s not on the list. He’s lying anyways. He’s not a plumber.”
“How can you tell?” I ask. He presses his lips into a thin line, thinking, deciding if he wants to tell me. I don’t give him a chance to explain. “Crane knew all along, didn’t he?”
Alexander doesn’t respond, instead he gives the slightest nod.
Adam instructs our Volker to watch the impersonator. Then he starts walking towards the office.
“What do you want to do now?” John asks Adam.
“We call Crane.”
“This place was designed to be run by a geneticist, by Dr. Drake. Now we have to replace him,” John says.
“Not my problem,” Adam tells him. “I’m sure Crane has some plan.”
Alexander looks at me.
“No way in hell,” I tell him. I don’t even give him a chance to ask me if I would relocate here. They can pluck a geneticist from Hanford if Dr. Drake is really dead.
I feel bad for this man. He was looking for safety and it was given to him. Still, this is unacceptable, intolerable by all the guidelines. There needs to be a better way to identify these people, to ensure new people, new Sovereign are who they say they are. Allowing another person to slip through the cracks like this could be devastating. It could prevent the growth of the Districts and it has been stressed far too often that failure is not an option. As much as I don’t want to admit it, someone needs to be punished. The proper guidelines were not followed. I doubt John will take the fall for this error, nor will any of the Volker or whoever went out there and brought this man back.
I listen as John contacts Crane from the computer in the impersonator’s office. Crane decides the fault does not fall upon any of them, but in the impersonator alone. He made the choice to lie and continue that lie, threatening the advancements of this District. And, of course, Crane has decided this infraction is punishable by death.
--
He has until dusk to do it. Fulfill an executive order from the Entities and Crane. They didn’t even suggest I do it this time. I couldn’t even do it last time. They know I could never kill a person. It would go against everything I believe in. Everything I’ve been fighting for. Preservation of some sense of humanity in this society that the Entities are creating.
Adam already shot a person in Alaska. I’m sure he’s shot people before. But this time, I think it ruined him. On top of that I did the worst thing I could. I called him a cold-blooded killer. I’m sure they wanted me to do it. They wanted me to kill someone. To be an assassin. That would be a sight. A pregnant woman, killing a defenseless man for seeding the ocean with iron. For going against the orders of Crane. Now, it’s been ordered again. And Adam said he would take care of this.
He changed when we stepped on that helicopter. Something in him shifted. I could sense it as much as I could sense the change in the cabin when we flew over Seattle. Everything is uncomfortable now. The air tense. My head throbs. I stare at
him. He’s turning the pistol over and over in his hand, deciding, thinking. He stands motionless, the muscles in his back and arms tight. It’s when he turns the pistol over again I notice the slight shaking of his index finger. It’s a familiar movement. I remember my hands doing the same thing when I returned to my computer, after Morris rescued me from Crane and I was banished to the Pasture. Such a small token, the computer keyboard causing all those memories to come flooding back. I can see it now. All of his memories are coming back. The ones he shoved to the back of his subconscious during recovery.
Adam’s about to crack. He’s about to fall apart.
I feel like I haven’t done much for him since we’ve met. But he’s done plenty for me, and now I have to return the favor. Because right now, I realize how deceptive Crane and the other Entities are. How scheming they’ve been. They did this to us. They planned this godforsaken tour. Each and every detail. Putting Adam on that helicopter, they knew what it would do to him. It brought him back to a time when he would do anything to stay alive. When he would do anything for his country. When he could kill a person without flinching. Then, having one of his captors from the Middle East in Alaska taunting him, that did nothing but made him remember everything he’s been trying to forget for years. It cracked the solid government rehabilitation program he was put through. Now, he’s falling apart. Just like I did when I was banished to the Pasture. I can see it on his face, the way his eyes have darkened, his body has shifted to an unyielding tenseness. This is worse, much worse than what I experienced.
All this time I’ve been worried about them trying to medicate us by trying to sneak Halcyon into our food. They don’t need the medication to control us. They’ve already shown that they can do it quite well with just our own emotions. This is easy to see with the way Adam and I react to these situations they’ve put us in.