Making my way across the hall I find another bedroom that is sparsely decorated, just a simple green quilt covering the bed. This must be the master bedroom. There is one last door at the end of the hallway. I walk to it, my footsteps muffled by the shag carpet. The Guardians watch me from the stairs. I pray that when I open the door, I will get a glimpse of his life before this. Maybe there will be pictures, something that smells like him, a T-shirt I can steal. I twist the door handle and push the door open. It’s empty. There is no furniture, no pictures, nothing. I stand in the room, alone. There is no indication of these people having a son. Maybe I’m at the wrong house? Or maybe they were just so distraught by their son’s death that they got rid of everything. Maybe they couldn’t stand another moment living with all of his memories so they got rid of them.
I walk down the stairs in defeat. When I make it to the living room, I circle it, stopping at the fireplace. Something catches my eye, a dark yellow envelope behind one of the pictures. I push the picture of a smiling girl aside. There is an envelope, with Andie written across the front of it.
But no one I actually know lived here and since I can find no trace of him, I can’t even be certain that this was Adam’s family. I pull the envelope down, holding it in my hand. There’s something inside, something solid, bulky. I open the clasp and peer inside. There’s no letter, just a cellular flip-phone and a charging cord.
A phone… This is Adam’s cell phone! The one he got off his contact, just before the bombings. The one I used to call Sam while we were on tour. It has to be. I open the phone, press the power button. Nothing happens. It must need to be charged.
I’m interrupted by the sound of sirens blaring. The same sirens I’ve heard here, the same sirens I heard in Crystal River, which means the power to the fence is down or off or there’s some other problem. Oh God, no.
I run out of the empty house, slamming the door behind me, the Guardians at my heels as I run to the SUV. I rush through the town streets, making my way back to the Pasture as the Residents continue on with their daily activities and duties, as though the sirens weren’t whistling through the air.
--
Elvis and Ian are leaving the Pasture just as I arrive. I pull over, park and run to their vehicle. Elvis rolls his window down.
“What’s going on?” I ask, out of breath.
“Survivor at the gates,” Elvis tells me. “Get in.”
Ian reaches behind him and opens the back door of the SUV.
“Where’s Sam?” I ask.
“Probably already there,” Elvis replies.
“What about the kids?” I ask, worried about Lina and Raven.
“They’ll be fine here,” Elvis tells me as he drives down the driveway. “This place is safe. Ms. Black and the Guardians will keep them safe.”
The forest blurs by as Elvis speeds in the direction of where they keep the train. The rocks of the gravel parking area grind under the tires as Elvis brakes hard. We all get out and make our way for the Gateway. As I follow Elvis and Ian, Ian reaches back and grasps my hand, pulling me along at a faster pace. We walk parallel to the train tracks, past the cement wall and towards the electrified fence.
What I see is too familiar to what we took part in not that long ago in Crystal River: a row of Volker stand a few yards from the fence. I notice Sam’s tall frame as we get closer. Elvis jogs ahead of us. I skip a few steps to keep up with Ian’s pace.
“Who’s out there?” Elvis asks.
“They said they saw a figure. Weren’t sure who,” Sam replies as we walk up next to him.
And then the figure appears, silently, without the rustle of the underbrush. Just like a ghost. It’s a girl, a mere teenager with an oversized New York Yankees sweatshirt and mud brushed jeans. She’s wearing a pair of boots that reach to her knees.
“Can I help you?” Sam asks the girl loudly.
“You could,” she replies with a soft smile, an innocent voice.
“Do we let her in?” I whisper to Elvis.
He shakes his head. “Just wait and see what else happens.”
“You could help me,” the Survivor girl continues pushing her inky black hair out of her face. “You could let me in and keep me safe.” She suggests, her face turning devilish. “Mo swaf,” she tells us with the same thick Creole accent of the Survivors outside of Crystal River.
I reach out and grab the back of Sam’s shirt as he raises his firearm and aims it on the girl.
“What did she just say?” Ian asks.
“She’s speaking Creole,” I tell him, “like the Survivors that tried to break in at Crystal River.”
“What does she want?” Ian asks.
“To get shot in the head,” Sam replies.
“Get out of here!” Elvis orders the girl loudly, waving her away.
She walks closer to the fence, tipping her chin in the same manner as the boy and man did in Crystal River. But this time, our fence is at full power and it’s not long before she gets close enough for the electric hum of the fence to affect her. She reaches up, brushes her sleeve across her nose, leaving a streak of bright red blood across her face. And then there is a sharp triple whistle from somewhere behind her. Just like the men and boys in Crystal River, she slithers back into the forest, silently.
“Swamp people,” Elvis starts. “Like cockroaches. They’ll survive anything.”
As Sam’s radio receives the transmission that we are to go directly to Headquarters, I’m stuck with the realization that I brought the Survivors back, showed them where we lived. I did this, this is my fault. I just put my entire family at risk. Elvis is right, I need to go get the others on board and collect troops and supplies. We need to be ready in case the swamp people come back, in case they bring more of their kind.
--
“We’ve been found,” Crane announces to the Committee. “The Survivors have found our gates and now we need to make preparations to defend this District.”
Crane has summoned Elvis to this meeting. And for the first time, it seems Crane isn’t directing the meeting, he’s genuinely asking for help in deciding what to do.
“We need to prepare,” Elvis tells Crane. “The Survivors could still outnumber us. And if they get in, if they breach our walls, everything we have worked for here could be over.”
Crane nods his head. “We need weapons, more than what we already have, and troops.”
“Hanford has weapons,” Alexander offers.
“Tonopah has more than enough troops,” Elvis says.
I shudder at the thought of Tonopah. I look at Sam. He has yet to offer any ideas. But he is young and inexperienced, much too young for this position he was put in.
“Who will we send?” Crane asks.
“I’ll go,” Sam offers.
I throw him a glaring look. He’s not ready for this.
Crane agrees immediately. “Good,” he replies as he types into the computer in front of him. “I want a full inventory of our weapons,” Crane tells Sam. “This meeting is dismissed. Be ready to act,” he warns us as we stand to leave.
“Give me your keys,” I tell Ian as we descend in the elevator. He tips his head, questioningly. “Just… Ride with Elvis. I need to talk to Crane.”
“Andie-” His eyes search my face.
“Just trust me, Ian. Give me your keys.”
He drops the key into my open palm. As I wait for the others to leave I sit in the Headquarters vestibule, contemplating long and hard on what I’m about to do. I don’t want to do it, I don’t want to leave, but I have to do this to keep us safe, to make sure my children stay safe. The Volker at the doors pretend not to watch me, but I know they are, this is their job.
Returning to the elevator and pressing the button to Crane’s floor, I make my way to Crane’s office, alone, determined, and fully aware of the situation I’m about to put myself in.
Crane’s face brightens as the elevator doors open, seeing me there. “Ah, Andromeda, to what do I owe this visit?”
he asks. “It’s as though I just saw you ten minutes ago.”
I think he just told a joke. Of all the inappropriate moments to choose. “We need to talk,” I tell him.
He walks across the room and sits behind his desk. “What would you like to talk about?” he asks, raising his finger to his chin.
I lean against his desk, arms and feet crossed. I have to lie. I suck at lying. I have to do my best acting. I have to make Crane believe that I need to go there. “I want to be the one to go with Sam to collect supplies and troops.”
“Why, Andromeda, you hate leaving the Phoenix District. Why would you willingly take off and leave your children behind?”
“This is different,” I tell him.
“How do you think?”
“Sam isn’t ready to go out there. He isn’t ready to meet those people alone.”
“What’s wrong with those people?” Crane asks innocently.
I shake my head at him. “You know what I mean. You sent me out there before with Adam. I know what they’re all like and I won’t even begin discussions about Sakima. You can’t let them sharpen their teeth on Sam, not now, not with those Survivors lurking at our gates.”
Crane smiles, fully aware that Sakima is a psychopath, just like him. “He’s been fully trained. I assure you, Andromeda. I wouldn’t send Sam if I didn’t believe he was ready.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe you, Crane.”
“Fine,” he sets his palms on his desk. “You can go. But first, we call to warn them.”
“About me?”
“No,” he laughs lightly. “They need no warnings about you. We warn them about the Survivors, or at least this particular group of Swamp-people Survivors.”
“Most of the other Districts have seen Survivors already,” I tell him.
“Yes,” he smiles condescendingly at me. “But this is the first time we’ve had an incident. Usually they are scraping and begging to be let in, they have never delivered a direct threat to us.”
“This doesn’t make sense. Why these people? You obliterated this country. How did they survive?” I ask.
“We didn’t bomb the wetlands,” Crane replies.
“Why?”
“Too rich with wildlife. The wetlands and swamps are the heart of nature. We couldn’t damage those. It would go against everything we are trying to accomplish.”
For a moment I am at a loss for words and simply blink at him.
“No need to stress over it. You just mull that around in your brain for a bit, Andromeda.”
I stand by as he dials each of the other Districts and informs them of the Survivors and the need to prepare in case they attack.
“Now,” Crane closes the open tab on his computer screen after ending his last call with Sakima. “You go and prepare, you leave in the morning.”
I walk to the door, ready to leave, but something nags at me and I don’t have the sense to stop myself from asking.
“Why are they so afraid of you, Crane?”
He smiles. “I know their secrets. And they know what I am capable of. Also, I have something that they all would like to have.”
“Secrets don’t keep people that afraid of someone.”
“Perhaps if you knew their secrets, then you would understand. Would you like to know them?” he offers.
“No,” I tell him. The less I know the better. Then I think to ask, “Who are you afraid of, Crane?”
“Me?”
“There has to be someone above you. You can’t be the mastermind of this all by yourself.” He gives a wicked smile. “So who are you afraid of? I know that the Entities work as a whole to keep you under control, there has to be one of them that you are afraid of.”
“Why, Andromeda, there is only one person on this earth whom I fear.” He gives an annoying pause. “You.”
I step back. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Why would you fear me?”
“Do you ever wonder why I keep tabs on you, why I keep such control over you? Because I fear you and what you are capable of and what you will become.”
He’s playing mind games again. “You didn’t need to lie to me, Crane. No answer would have been better than that half-assed response.”
He simply smiles back at me. “You think I would let the other Sovereign speak to me like that?” he asks, pointing one long, freckled finger at me.
“I don’t much care right now. I have to go pack.”
“I’ll meet you at the tracks in the morning,” he tells me as I walk out of his office.
--
As I drive, I think of how I can do this again. Leaving the District, entrusting the safety of Lina and Raven to others. At least I have the phone Adam left for me. I think back to his house, where I was early this morning, searching for some sign of who he was, searching for some memory.
Maybe I didn’t have time to fully think about the lack of evidence that Adam was a part of the Waters family. But then, I didn’t see one trace of his existence in that house. Something doesn’t make sense.
I turn sharp, changing my direction from headed to the Pasture to the graveyard.
A sea of gray gravestones spreads out before me. There was once a gravel road here, weaving between the grave plots. Now it’s overgrown with shrubs and tall grass. I park on the side of the road. Walking between the graves I search for the headstones marked Waters.
The task seems overwhelming. And so do the memories from the last time I was out here alone, making my way home. It’s too easy to remember watching Adam fall to his knees and grieve for his family. Of course, now I’m wondering if that was even his family. I wander up the hill, finding the large oak tree I sat under waiting for him. I turn towards the south. Seeing the large stone wall that I watched our Residents build that day and for weeks after, effectively keeping everyone out of here.
I continue my walk, meandering between the granite jutting from the ground, searching for the stones, until I find them. They are the same as the day we were here, except for now there are overgrown dandelions flanking the sides of the stone.
Jim Waters
Margaret Waters
Samantha Waters
Their dates of death are the same. The soft dirt now replaced with a fine summer grass. I hear the distant caw of the crows in the oak tree. I wish I knew what I was looking for. And then a crow flutters down from the tree, landing a few yards away on the top of a gravestone. It stares at me, blinking its beady eyes, cocking its head to the side as though it’s waiting for me to speak. I imitate its movement, tipping my head, wondering what it’s doing here, staring at me. It caws loudly before flapping its large black wings and rising into the air. I look at the stone it was perched on, walking towards it. Stopping, I back up and look at the dates of death from the Waters gravestones and back to the stone that the crow was resting on. And it hits me with a shock and a realization that I’ve been lied to once again, because the dates of death are the same. And of course, these names are different and there is only one gravestone.
Mr. and Mrs. Whitmarsh
Looking to the surrounding gravestones, there are none for a child, a sister or daughter with the same last name or dates of death. I walk back to the Waters gravestones, and kneeling just where I remember Adam did that day. And then, looking forward, I see that I have the perfect view of the Whitmarsh gravestones.
The awareness hits me stronger than I might have guessed. Maybe it was because I trusted him, because I thought we were close, because I was pregnant with his child-of all things-and stupidly I thought that might make him trust me more. He lied to me about his identity. Perhaps the crow was his last hint, now that he is dead. Maybe he’s trying to send a message from the afterlife or a clue for me to figure this out.
It seems Adam was a particularly good actor.
How could I not sense that he was sent here under an alias, with what he told me he was doing, this mission he was on? All this time I’ve been telling Raven stories a
bout his father and now I realize that they were all lies. I have no idea who Adam really was and neither will his son.
Rubbing my arms in the darkening day, my palm runs over the small bump from the transmitter Crane injected under my skin. The skin now healed a light pink color. And I remember the day I found that Adam had one, and I cut it from his skin when he returned from a run for supplies. I look around me, all the bodies resting under my feet, their memories now encased within the cold gray rock. Perhaps Adam got the best part of the deal; the end, no longer here to play in the Phoenix District games.
I think that he got the easy way out.
I turn my back on the stones and walk the overgrown path out of the graveyard. I make my way to the SUV I left at the roadside. The tree of crows begins cawing at my back, shrieking and squawking. A deep shiver runs up my spine. I glance back at the dark tree, and, intimidated by the birds, afraid that they might take flight and peck me to death, I run the rest of the way to the SUV.
--
The children are asleep, even after telling them that I was leaving in the morning. I hope this is the last time, the last trip I’ll ever have to make out of here. Now I have to focus on the task at hand; collecting supplies, preparing for an attack. But what I’ll really be doing is rallying the District leaders against Crane in an effort to overthrow him. I just have to gather the other Sovereign and then we will be set free of Crane. We will be set to defend ourselves against the Survivors. And I will finally have peace with my children. And I can watch them grow and all I will be responsible for are the pairings.
We wait until Blithe has turned all of her lights off. This time we meet in the dark courtyard.
“Who do you think will be the easiest to get on board?” Elvis asks me.
“Torres should be simple,” I tell him. “I’m not so sure about Ruiz, there’s something about him that I just don’t trust.”
“It’s the fancy watch,” Elvis says with a smirk. “No one should still be wearing a watch like that.”
“Maybe.” I catch Ian watching me closely as I speak of these people he has never met, The Entities. “Crossbender will be an easy in. John Blackmore from Wolf Creek might take some convincing. I haven’t met any of the other Sovereign from those two Districts.”
The Phoenix Project Series: Books 1-3: The Phoenix Project, The Reformation, and Revelation Page 70