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

by Pritchard, M. R.

  “Andie?” I hear Ian’s voice in the hallway.

  I choke out a fresh breath and shove the shirt back into the suitcase, hiding it under my clothes. There’s a knock on the bedroom door.

  “Andie?” Ian asks.

  “Come in.” My voice sounds strained.

  Ian walks into the room, stopping when he notices Raven sleeping in the bassinet. “Hey,” he says, his voice hushed and completely nonchalant, as if we were just a normal married couple standing in a room together. He seems so tall in this old farmhouse.

  “Hi.” I look away from him.

  “Unpacking finally?” he asks, motioning to the suitcase.

  With the faint lingering smell of Adam’s shirt and the memories still so fresh in my mind, I can barely look at Ian right now. “Yeah,” I respond, my eyes fixed on the floor.

  “I thought I heard you talking to someone.” He gives me a worrisome gaze and looks around the room.

  “Um, no.” I press my fingertips to my forehead, trying to force the image of Adam from my mind. “I was just…” Unable to think of a good excuse I trail off and never complete the sentence.

  An awkward five heartbeats pass between us before Ian breaks the silence, “I’m headed to the barn.”

  I nod. I don’t look up at him. I know what I’ll see if I do: the hopeful brown eyes, the creases around his mouth and locks of blonde hair falling across his forehead. I’ve become accustomed to this look upon his face and I can hear it in his voice right now. It’s the only thing about him that makes me believe that he is truly real and not a ghost; you can’t fake the concern that Ian exudes and there’s no way a ghost could fill a room up like he does.

  “I’ll see you for dinner?” he asks.

  “Okay.” I finally look up and force a smile. I don’t know why I smile, it doesn’t help the discomfort of our current situation.

  “Okay.” He nods and closes the door as he leaves.

  Staring at the lump of clothes in front of me, I try to control the urge to pull the shirt out again. My thoughts are interrupted by a voice outside my door as Ian’s footsteps echo down the hall. Sam. I can hear them talking. Just a quick conversation and it’s only a few moments before there is another knock on the door.

  “Sis?” I hear Sam’s voice.

  “Yeah?” I ask with a sigh.

  He opens the door. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine, Sam. I just… I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”

  He brushes a brown lock of hair out of his eyes and fidgets with his clothes. They’re new, in the sense that Sam hasn’t worn them before. There are worn patterns in the thighs of his jeans and the button-down shirt sleeves seem a little too short on him.

  “New clothes?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He smiles and presses his hand over the front of the blue shirt. “They finally found some hand-me-downs that fit me.”

  “Good.”

  Sam looks towards the bassinet where Raven sleeps and back to me, still kneeling on the floor in front of the open suitcase.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask him as I stand and move away from the suitcase.

  “Crane wants to see me,” he responds with a frown.

  “And?”

  “And I was hoping you would go with me.” He raises his eyebrows, his face turning hopeful.

  “What does he need to see you for?” I busy myself with folding a basket of Raven’s laundry.

  “He said it’s something about my training.”

  “Why do you need me to go?” I ask.

  Sam runs a hand across the back of his neck. “Truthfully, I thought you might like to get out of the house. You’ve been cooped up here for weeks.”

  Six weeks actually. I’ve been here for six weeks and I haven’t left, not once. Dr. Akiyama, the District physician, has stopped in to check on me and the baby a few times, but I’ve never left.

  Glancing around the room, my eyes stop on the suitcase. I am tired of being here. I am tired of sitting in this rocking chair and thinking about Adam’s death. Part of me wants to hate him for not waiting for Hanford to show up and assist them. Maybe if he had, if he had waited for backup instead of rushing into that building, maybe he’d still be alive today. He could meet his son and I’d have more than just an old T-shirt to remind me of him. I hate him for risking his life to save mine. I just wish I could stop thinking about him.

  Suddenly I feel claustrophobic. Maybe getting out of here is a good idea. “Sure Sam, just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

  “Meet you out front.” He closes the door and I listen to his footsteps echo down the hall.

  Looking at the clock, I find that it’s nearly noon. I definitely have enough time to make it back before Lina gets done with her schooling. I head for my closet to find something to wear.

  When I am dressed, I glance at myself in the mirror. I still look the same even after everything that’s happened. Green eyes, pale skin, brown curly hair. Hair that’s too long. Almost three years without a haircut has allowed it to grow down to the middle of my back, almost to my waist. It’s too heavy, too tangled, and I don’t want to deal with it when summer comes around. I twist it into a bun, telling myself to ask Blithe, or Ms. Black as the children know her, if she can cut it for me.

  I give up with the mirror and take a khaki jacket from my closet, putting it on before wrapping Raven in an extra blanket and layering two hats on his head. I carry him into the living room where Sam stands.

  “Bringing the baby?” Sam asks.

  “Yeah.” I look longingly out the window. It’s still snowing. Thankfully, it’s not as bad as last year when the drifts reached the second story of the house. That was when the ocean was seeded with iron by a rogue scientist-I stop that memory. I know where it leads, remembering what we did out there on the Tour. I don’t want to remember that.

  “The fresh air is good for him,” I tell Sam.

  “I’ll go get the truck so you don’t have to walk across the yard in this.”

  As Sam steps out, cold wind and snow blows into the house before he closes the door. Sam jogs to the SUV and drives it to the front of the house. I open the door and walk out onto the porch as Sam pulls up. When I open the passenger, door he looks at me then the baby.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Aren’t we supposed to use a car seat or something?”

  “I don’t even know if those exist anymore.” I sit in the passenger seat with Raven on my lap. “Just drive slow,” I tell Sam as I buckle in and tuck Raven under the chest belt.

  Sam drives down the ice-encrusted driveway, the heavy SUV breaking the thin ice and crunching the gravel of the driveway. There was a time when leaving the enclosure of the Pasture brought on a fear that I could barely control. Now it’s different. I no longer fear Crane, or the Entities, or their plan here. I look forward to leaving the seclusion of the Pasture, for this moment at least.

  As Sam drives down the long country roads that lead into town, he slows to a crawl when he comes across a snow-drift covering the road.

  “Wish they’d run the plows,” he says as he accelerates through almost a foot of snow. The tires of the SUV grip and push us through.

  “Why don’t they?” I ask him.

  “Fuel is low. And we’re the only ones out here. Crane doesn’t see it as an acceptable use of the fuel.”

  “Figures.”

  I watch out the window as he pulls into town. It’s the same. Just like a Rockwell painting, as Adam had described it. The houses are all painted white. Some have been demolished to make room for community gardens and greenhouses. Sam pulls up behind a bus. It stops at the corner. Residents unload. Some walk to the nearby houses while others, already equipped with shovels, begin shoveling the sidewalks. The factions are working just as diligently as they have always been. Some probably more, since Crane manufactured the vectors to alter their genetics and shrink their amygdalae. Their faces look placid-almost happy-as they work in the blustering snow. Just like C
rane wants them to.

  The bus turns the corner. Sam accelerates. We pass more houses, an empty gas station, the grocery store where the Sovereign can go to collect their rations, an old fast-food restaurant, an empty hotel, a few bars, the old town cinema with movie posters still hanging from before the Reformation. They’re empty. All of those buildings where people used to get together to eat or celebrate; they’re empty and dusty and will probably never be filled again.

  Sam takes the long way to Headquarters, avoiding the chemistry building where Crane once held me and Lina. He knows I don’t like that place. He pulls up to the front of Headquarters. The Phoenix District flag whips in the harsh wind that blows in from the lake. Someone should tell them to take it down or it won’t last. The brutal lakeside storms will ruin it.

  There are Volker guards standing just inside the entrance. They hold the doors open as we walk through. I walk beside Sam as we take the familiar path to Crane’s office. It’s in the middle of the building now. He cleared the entire third floor of its furnishings.

  As we step off the elevator there are tables with maps, stacks of papers, and a desk where he sits behind a computer.

  “Ah, Andromeda,” he begins, failing to greet Sam. “So good to see you outside the walls of the Pasture.” He looks at Raven in my arms. “The good Doctor tells me the baby is well.” I nod at him. “And you’ve fully recovered from your illness?”

  “Yes.” I may have recovered from being sick, but I’m not sure about recovering from causing two deaths. Because that’s what I did. I shot a man and then I caused Adam’s death. If it weren’t for me, he would have never gone into that building without assistance from Hanford.

  Now Crane stands before me, wearing his usual suit. Today it’s a yellow tie with dark blue dots, a chipper choice considering the weather outside. His orange hair has been neatly trimmed closer to his head so he looks less like a clown and more like a leader. He looks fully rested, barely a wrinkle around his eye. He does not display the worrisome face of some leaders, like when President Berkley had to do that press conference and announce the dire straits of our country nearly six years ago. It seemed Berkley’s hair grew a shade grayer with each question from the press. That was before the Reformation. Crane doesn’t even resemble a person who just lost his best Volker and nearly lost the District Matchmaker. He resembles a person who thinks he’s fully in control, one with a plan.

  I dislike Crane’s arrogance very much.

  Just as I am reminding myself how much I dislike him, his eyes seem to soften a bit as though his heart just started beating, as though he might be a real human with an ounce of compassion. And then he turns to Sam. “Thank you for meeting me, Sam.” Crane reaches out and gives Sam a hearty handshake. “Let us sit.” He guides Sam to a set of plush chairs near the window.

  It’s strange seeing them walk side-by-side, with Sam towering over Crane. They ignore me now and I don’t mind. Rubbing Raven’s back as he sleeps, I wander the large room, stopping at each table and looking at the maps he has set out. He has one of our county, complete with the fence; the occupied and unoccupied buildings are all marked. The roads that are in use are marked with a red line and the roads that have been left in disrepair marked in black. It seems he knows every inch of this town.

  I stop and focus on Crane’s conversation with Sam.

  “Your test scores are very high in all areas of focus,” Crane tells him.

  “Yes,” Sam replies. “Ms. Black told me this also.”

  “You had plans to join the air force before you were brought here?”

  “Yes.”

  I hear rustling and turn to see Crane has a handful of papers. He flips through them, stopping on a few pages to read. “Very well then, I am assigning you to Volker training,” Crane tells him.

  I hold my breath. The last thing I want Sam training for is to be a Volker. I don’t want him responsible for defending the District, just like I didn’t want him responsible for defending our country when he tried to join the air force.

  Making a swift walk to where they are conversing, I interrupt. “I don’t want him training for Volker,” I tell Crane.

  “Why, Andromeda.” Crane smiles as he focuses on me. “Did you ever once ask Sam what he wanted to do or what training he prefers?”

  “No,” I tell him.

  “Perhaps you should.” Crane turns expectantly to Sam.

  “I chose this, Andie,” Sam tells me. “Actually… I requested it.”

  “What? Sam, don’t do this. You don’t know what you’re getting into. You don’t know what you will be responsible for.”

  “Yes,” he tells me. “Yes, I do, Andie. I will be responsible for looking after the District and the Sovereign. For keeping the people I love safe. Just let me do this without an argument.”

  “And if there is ever a war or a breach at the gates you will be required to risk your life to save this place. I don’t want that, Sam. I want better for you.” I turn to Crane. “I don’t want him finding the same fate as the last Volker Sovereign.” They both know what I mean. I don’t want Sam to die just like Adam did.

  “You are no longer speaking about your brother’s future,” Crane notes the change in topic. He tips his head and smiles. He doesn’t bother to redirect me back to the original issue.

  I guess it’s about time I confronted him about what happened.

  “I don’t understand why you took everyone out there to search for the medication,” I tell Crane.

  Sam stands.

  “We had to,” Crane replies, standing also.

  “It doesn’t make sense, Crane. You could have let nature take its course. After all, isn’t that what you’re trying to do here? You’re letting Morris die. You restrict medications for the other Sovereign and Residents. Why was I the exception?”

  “We had to.” His face downturns, as though he regrets the trip or something about it.

  “I don’t believe you. You had to risk the lives of twenty Volker, the life of the Volker Sovereign. How many did you lose? Fifteen?”

  “And it was worth it.”

  “My life was not worth the lives of fifteen other people, Crane.” I point at Sam. “What if next time it’s him?”

  “Would you rather have the alternative? You would have preferred your children to go on with their lives without their mother?”

  I stop, my heart screaming at the thought of dying and my children never knowing any more of me.

  “Yes, you see, Andromeda,” Crane continues, “you were worth the risk. You may not understand this now, but in time you shall.”

  “And now what?” I ask him, shifting the sleeping baby in my arms.

  “Now you move on. You have work to do and so does your brother.”

  “I’m not ready to move on,” I tell him with an unexpected surge of honesty. I immediately wish I had said nothing.

  For some reason Crane seems kinder than he used to be. Ever since he informed me of Adam’s death, it’s like he’s been trying to make up for it. He hasn’t threatened to take my children, he hasn’t threatened to take Ian back, and he hasn’t pushed me to get back to work with the pairings or reminded me of my future as an Entity. Perhaps he does have a drop of humanity left in him.

  Crane tips his head in the opposite direction, like a robot changing its course. “Very well then, you may go,” he dismisses us. “You will commence Volker training in the morning,” he tells Sam as we leave.

  I stop and turn towards Crane. “You should take that flag down in this weather. You know it’s not going to last long with the wind and snow beating on it.”

  A pale red eyebrow rises. “That flag will never be lowered.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Because I don’t want anyone in this District to forget who is in charge.”

  Newlyweds for fourteen weeks

  and counting…

  chapter two

  “Hello, Andie, how are things today?” Elvis asks, looking at Raven. />
  “Fine,” I tell him.

  “You sure?” Elvis eyes me suspiciously.

  I think I am. I’ve never felt more calm and in control. So I must be fine. It’s the only word I can think of to describe how I feel right now. Lina and Raven are safe. And Ian has been released to me. For fourteen weeks he’s been a stranger in the house. Or maybe I’ve forgotten how he used to be. How he used to act. I’m sure I’m not like he remembers either.

  “Never felt better,” I tell Elvis, forcing a determined tone to my voice.

  I look away from him and pull Raven’s knit cap over his ears. It’s blue with brown stripes. Someone made it for him, along with some of his other clothes. I’m not sure who. They just seem to show up every few weeks. Clothes, blankets, there was even one of those soft baby brushes. When I pulled it out of the bag, I brushed his dark baby-fine hair; parting it on the side, tucking the longer pieces behind his ears. He looked like a little man. He looked just like his father.

  Elvis looks across the courtyard from which I’ve just walked. It’s cold, the ground frozen and covered with a layer of hard-packed snow. “Isn’t it too cold to have a baby out here?” Elvis asks me.

  “Fresh air, it’s good for him.”

  “Hmm.” Elvis scratches his ear.

  I’ve been working up the courage to ask Elvis this question. Here goes nothing. “I want a gravestone.”

  His eyes widen a bit at my request. “For what?” he asks.

  “For Adam.”

  “We don’t have a body.”

  “I don’t care. I want a gravestone. It’s been fourteen weeks since he died. Normal people would have had a service months ago. Normal people bury their dead and mourn,” I say.

  Elvis nods his head as though he agrees. “Where?”

  “Out near the water tower, I think.”

  He presses his lips together. He’s going to tell me no.

  “Elvis, just do it.”