The rest of the Survivors pass by me in a blur until the last man in line walks towards me. I observe him as he walks to where I am sitting. He’s sweating profusely. More than necessary for this heat and humidity. There’s a tattoo on his neck with long calligraphy letters and the writing continues down onto his arms. I can’t make out what any of it says.
More Volker move to stand behind me, where Ramirez has been standing guard.
“Name and previous occupation?” I ask the man.
“Rico, Rico Smith. I was a mechanic,” he tells me.
I sift through my sheets. There’s a long list of Smith’s, just none matching the first name of Rico.
“Where are you from?” I hear Ramirez ask the man. He’s walking up behind me, closer than he has for any of the other Survivors.
The man named Rico looks towards Ramirez. “South Florida,” he says, looking down as one of our Guardians makes its way towards us.
“What are you doing up here?” Ramirez asks.
“You know, escaping the heat, the bugs. Trying to get away from the Everglades. You wouldn’t believe how bad things are down there,” Rico tells us.
“You sure you were a mechanic?” Ramirez asks.
“No reason to lie, brotha’,” Rico responds.
“You done time?” Ramirez asks.
“That matter?” Rico’s eyes flit between the Volker flanking me.
“Yeah, it does,” Ramirez answers.
Before I have a chance to process what’s occurring I feel one of the Volker pull on my shoulders, pulling me away as the others rush towards Rico. He doesn’t seem to be intimidated with the onslaught of armed men. Instead, he runs forward, towards the gate in the cement wall. A last ditch attempt to make it in, as though he’d be safe once he got inside. The Volker tackle him, pulling him to the ground with an array of grunts and groans.
“District rules,” Ramirez tells Rico. “No convicts, no history of jail time. We made that clear.”
The Volker pull him up by his shoulders and walk him towards the gate at the electrified fence. They force him outside, back into the wilderness.
“Let go of me!” I shake off the Volker who held me back and walk towards Ramirez.
“It’s time for you to go back,” Ramirez tells Rico.
“I got nowhere to go, man,” Rico says. “You saw what it’s like out there.” He points behind him into the overgrown southern forest.
“We can’t help you here,” Ramirez tells him.
“No one can help me now,” Rico says. He has a look about him, a look that warns me he keeps secrets. He knows something.
“What’s going on out there?” I ask him.
Rico smiles with just the one corner of his thin lips. “You ain’t seen it yet? None of ‘em told you yet?”
“No,” I tell him as I walk closer. Ramirez puts his hand out, blocking me from walking too close. I push it away. I know how close I can get before the hum makes my nose bleed. “Do you have something you’d like to tell us?” I ask Rico.
“What are you going to do for me?” Rico asks. “You tossed me out. You want to offer me a warm bed, dinner, a new wife now?”
“We can’t offer you those things, you don’t qualify,” I tell him.
“And the other District, that one in Arizona, will they take me?” he asks.
“None will take you,” I reply.
“So there are more than just these two?” he asks.
“What are you getting at?” Ramirez asks, his tone getting increasingly annoyed.
“Things are happening out here. Bad things. Been going on for years. People been dying, doing crazy things, hunting other people. We’ve got a leader out here too, someone to make decisions,” Rico says.
My stomach rolls in unease. “What are you saying?” I ask.
“He’ll come for you. He’ll try to take over. He’s ruthless.”
“Rico, if that’s your real name, I assure you there is no one more ruthless than the people running these Districts,” I tell him. “Who is he?”
He smiles, a crazed smile, and reaches towards the fence. It hums loudly. “Don’t touch that!” I warn him, reaching out only to be blocked by Ramirez’s arm.
Rico’s chest quakes with a strange laugh. “Don’t matter. Can’t go back there. I’m a dead man either way.”
I watch in horror as he grasps the chain-link fence. There’s an odd gurgling in his throat as the electricity ripples through his body. And the smell is almost worse than the sight as the air fills with the wretched stench of scalding human tissue. I watch as his hand bubbles and blisters. Smoke seems to rise from his singed hair. He drops to the ground, his body still convulsing from the voltage of the fence.
I hear a rustling in the forest. The Volker must hear it too. They walk closer, trying to block me. Someone swings down from a thick tree branch, a young boy. At least he looks like a young boy. Another steps out from behind a tree trunk, this one a young man. And then a third, another young man, stands from under a short bush. They run to Rico’s charred body, grabbing his stained shirt and under his arms, dragging his crisp body off behind the thick row of trees.
We all stand there in a moment of silence. “What the hell just happened?” I ask. “Who were they, the lost boys or something?”
“Don’t know.” Ramirez moves his assault weapon between his hands, readying himself for someone else to come out of the forest.
“Do you think there are more?” I ask. “What if they want in?”
Ramirez never answers because something terrible happens. The humming of the fence lessens and stutters a few times before it goes completely out. There are a few arcs of electricity snapping and stretching across the metal weave of the chain-link fence as the power glitches on and off.
“What happened?” I shout to Ramirez, trying to ignore the hairs rising on my arms.
“Reactor trouble,” he replies with a questioning tone.
Then the sirens start, just like they did when the reactors were running half-power in Phoenix.
chapter eleven
Sam comes running towards me, weapon drawn, eyes scanning the forest beyond the fence.
“What happened?” I ask him.
“Power’s down. I have to get you out of here.”
“Where?”
“Headquarters. Let’s move. Now!”
“Guard the gate!” I yell to the Volker and Ramirez as I turn and run towards Headquarters with Sam at my side and our two Guardians following closely behind us.
I push my way through the new Residents that stand in the parking lot. They hold their plates, chew their manatee, the medication already having its effect. The sirens blaring do not interrupt their current state.
“Emanuel!” I call as I pull open the door to Headquarters.
He steps into the hallway, beckoning me to the Committee room. “Reactor trouble,” he says as soon as we make it through the doorway, confirming my fears.
As Sam and I enter the Committee room, the other members of the Crystal River Sovereign are seated at the table as though they were doing nothing but waiting for us to arrive.
“What are you all doing?” I ask. “Why is the power on in here but not out there?”
“We have a small generator,” Emanuel replies.
“Well, what are you all doing, just sitting around?” I ask.
“We were waiting for you,” Javier responds.
“Yeah, and I’m here. Get the power back on, get the gates back up!” I yell at them. “There are Survivors at the gates. Who’s running your reactor?”
“We don’t have any operators,” Emanuel tells me. “Just technicians to monitor the radiation.”
“Who runs your plant then?”
“There’s a crew in Hanford. They do it remotely.”
“Then get them on the phone,” Sam tells them urgently.
“We did,” Emanuel replies. “They’re looking into it.”
“What?” I ask. “We can’t wait for them
to look into it. They need to fix this. Now!” I walk towards the computer on the table, pushing Emanuel to the side as I pass him.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Calling Crane.” I select the Phoenix icon and wait as the image comes into focus. Crane is there, sitting at his desk.
“Andromeda?” he asks, not in the least bit surprised.
This is a test.
“The reactor is down,” I tell him in a hurried rush of words. “Power is off to the perimeter and we’ve got Survivors at the gates.”
“Hmm,” Crane starts. “Survivors at the gates… Did your plan of acquiring new Residents backfire?”
“No, Crane. This is something completely different. We’ve already acquired the new Residents. Except one of them lied and had to be removed from the premises. He touched the fence and fried to a crisp.”
Crane doesn’t answer, his eyes seem to be focused away from the computer screen on something else in his office.
“We can’t wait for Hanford to fix this.”
“I think Hanford is quite capable.”
“Have they ever had their reactor power down?” I ask. “Because if they haven’t, I’m not waiting for them to figure this out.”
“Well then,” Crane says, the corners of his lips starting to upturn. “What would you like to do then?”
I know before the words come out of my mouth. There is one person who fixed our reactor trouble the last time I heard the sirens and that was Ian. “Get Ian.”
Crane smiles. “Your wish is my command. I will send someone for him.”
An unexpected pang of fear hits me the way he says it. “Make sure he brings my children with him,” I warn just before Crane ends the video feed. I turn to Sam, unable to say anything more.
“So we just wait?” Javier asks as he inspects the tape around his glasses.
“Where’s Ramirez?” Emanuel asks.
“He’s at the fence with the other Volker,” Sam tells him.
“He should be here.” Emanuel glances towards the door.
“He’s doing his job,” Sam tells him. “Leading the Volker, defending this District.”
“He can’t monitor the entire border by himself, we don’t have enough people out there,” Emanuel protests.
“Pull up your satellite images then,” I tell him. “We can check the borders while we wait for Crane.”
Emanuel moves towards the computer and pulls up the program he used to find the Survivors. We wait as the images clear and Emanuel scrolls to the District. He moves in, focusing on the Volker at the fence line we just came from. There is a line of Volker, guns pointed towards the thick forest where we watched the lost boys emerge from and run away with Rico’s charred body. Ramirez paces behind the men, his mouth moving with orders we cannot hear.
“Follow the border,” I tell Emanuel.
He moves the screen, following the metallic gleam of the fence, stopping when there is a shiver from the tree line. As we watch in those areas it seems to be nothing more than animals and the wind.
Sam leans towards the screen. “Looks clear,” he says. “Whoever is out there seems to be focused on the gate that we came through.”
A new window pops up on the computer screen, hiding the satellite view of the District. Crane’s image comes into view. I pause for a moment, taking in the image of Ian sitting next to Crane. Raven is sitting on his lap and Lina is leaning on his shoulder.
“Hi, Mom!” Lina blurts out.
“Hi,” I tell her, almost forgetting the reason for the communication.
“Andromeda,” Crane interrupts.
The words come tumbling out of my mouth. “Ian, the reactor has powered down, there are Survivors at the gates, and somehow Hanford is working on the problem remotely but we need this fixed now.”
I watch as Ian lifts Raven and turns to Lina, whispering something to her. Lina leaves my view. “How long has it been down for?” Ian asks, the familiar creases of concern appearing on his face.
“I don’t know.” I look at Sam. “Maybe ten minutes.” Sam nods in agreement.
“What happened?” he asks.
“I’m not sure. One of the Survivors touched the fence and a few minutes later it just all shut down,” I tell him.
“Okay,” he tells me. “Just give me a minute.” He turns to Crane, but because he isn’t speaking directly into the computer I can only catch a few words of what he says.
“Ian?” I ask as he turns back to the computer. His eyes and shoulders move as though he’s looking at something on the screen and typing.
“Just give me a little bit,” he tells me, the creases in his face intensifying. “I’m accessing their programs from here. Why don’t they have operators and engineers there?” he asks as he works.
I look at Emanuel, who stands as still as a statue, refusing to answer that question. “I’m not sure. Perhaps we could put in an order for some to arrive here from Hanford. What do you think, Crane?”
I hear his voice from somewhere near Ian. “If that is what you think that District needs, Andromeda. As you know the resources of the Districts are spread thin.”
“This is kind of important,” I tell him. “At least have a few operators and engineers visit here every so often to check on this place.”
Ian continues with his typing and his looks of concentration. “Check the perimeter again,” I tell Emanuel.
He switches the screen and zooms in, towards the fence where the Volker stand, still fixing their weapons on the forest. Now the three lost boys who dragged away Rico’s body stand in a line in front of the Volker.
“Scroll out,” I tell Emanuel.
He does and we can see movement from not far away. The trees tilt and quiver in a trail. “Someone’s coming,” I warn.
The other Sovereign move to stand behind us and watch. I grip the side of the table, watching as the movement gets closer to the boys and the gate. Sam moves closer, pressing me against Emanuel’s chair.
“Okay!” I hear Ian’s voice.
“Switch back,” Sam urges.
Emanuel clicks away from the satellite image and back to Ian and Crane.
“Are you there?” Ian asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
“It’s fixed.”
“How long before it’s up to full power?”
“A bit,” he replies.
“How long is a bit?”
“Maybe… twenty minutes.”
“We don’t have twenty minutes,” I tell him. “There are more Survivors on their way here.”
“What are you going to do?” he asks, his eyes wide.
I turn to Sam, my heart beating fast, knowing what I’m about to say. I can’t let this District fail. That would only show the Entities that I am, in turn, a failure. And that puts the ones I care about at risk. “I guess we’re going to help defend this District until the fence powers up.” I turn away from the computer and take Sam’s arm. “Let’s go.” We run for the door and down the hallway.
“Andie!” Ian’s voice shouts from the computer as we run. He shouts my name one last time before Emanuel begins speaking to him. We cross the threshold to the room and then we are running down the brown haze-lit hallway and out into the heat.
We run hard, the humid air so thick it seems choking. I notice Sam at my side. “Go,” I yell to him. I know he’s over a foot taller than me, his stride longer, he’s a faster runner. “Don’t wait for me, Sam. I’ll catch up.”
“I’ll save a weapon for you,” he tells me as he takes off at full speed. It’s not long before he’s almost out of my sight, passing the gate in the cement wall, the first barrier to the District. I follow the direction he went, my breaths heavy in my chest. I can’t remember the last time I ran, let alone trained to do something physical. That seemed to stop when Adam died. I pass the wall and then it’s just through the grassy field I have left to scale. The thick southern grass brushes against my legs. Seeing the line of Volker in front of me, I slow to a t
rot, trying to catch my breath before I get to where Sam and Ramirez stand.
“Sam,” I choke out.
He turns and hands me a handgun. His hair is matted to the back of his neck from the oppressive heat. “No extra magazines,” he tells me shortly. “Use those bullets wisely.”
“Has there been more movement?” I ask them, surveying the scene in front of me. The lost boys are closer to the fence. One of them actually has his hand on it, as if to test its strength.
“I said back away!” Ramirez yells to the boy with his hand on the fence. The boy smiles a wicked grin that doesn’t belong on a person who looks to be so young.
The boy looks between us, his eyes stopping at me. “Bonswa,” he says in a low voice with a flick of his chin.
I look away nervously, pretending to flick the safety on the handgun I’m holding. “What did he just say?” I ask Ramirez. “That wasn’t in English.”
“It means good evening, or good night, in Creole,” Ramirez replies. “Seems these boys here traveled along the gulf. Probably from Louisiana.”
“Great,” Sam mutters. “Just what we need, a bunch of backwoods rednecks who fight alligators.”
“There’s more of them coming, Ramirez,” I tell him. “We saw it on the satellite.”
“How many?” he asks as he scans the row of Volker in front of him.
“Don’t know,” Sam replies.
The boy turns to speak something unintelligible to his companions and then, turning back to the fence, places a booted foot on the chain-links. “Mo manje,” he says with a fierce look in his eyes.
“Get down,” Ramirez yells.
“What did he say?” I ask, moving forward so we are standing in line with the Volker.
“He’s hungry,” Ramirez replies.
“Great,” Sam mutters.
The Volker aim their weapons at the boy on the fence. “Not going to like yourself when that fence lights back up, boy!” Ramirez shouts.
The boy smirks and continues to climb. It’s while he stretches and pulls himself up that I notice the long machete attached to his belt. There is a loud whistle from the forest. The boy stops.
The Phoenix Project Series: Books 1-3: The Phoenix Project, The Reformation, and Revelation Page 64