When the dust clears, I scream as loud as I can, fighting to get myself away from the man holding me. Ian is on the ground, the man with the scar on top of him, holding the machete over his head. I can see the blood on Ian’s face, his shirt is ripped, and there is a long slice in his arm, blood streaming out of it. He struggles to get loose, but the way the man is perched on him-a foot on his neck, his knee across Ian’s pelvis-Ian can barely move.
“Ian!” I scream as the man with the scar starts to bring the machete down.
“No, no,” the man holding me warns, adjusting his grip on my face and neck. “Jus’ wach.”
My heart beats so hard in my chest, watching, knowing that I’m going to see Ian die right in front of me. “No!” I shout through my teeth which are currently pressed together by the man’s grip.
Then, the man with the scar stops midair. The machete drops from his hands, falling next to Ian’s head. Ian moves his arms, pushing the man off of him and as he rolls, I notice an arrow sticking out of his chest.
I look in the only direction it could have come from, the tree line. There is movement above the ground and I see Adam, perched on a branch, an arrow aimed at me.
“Aw, shit,” the man holding me calls out. His grip loosens. Ian stands, running in my direction. I look up to Adam as his arm moves back, he squints to aim. I close my eyes, holding my body as stiff as I can. Something rushes by my face. The man groans, lets go of me and drops to the ground.
“Andie,” Ian reaches me, pulling me towards him.
I turn to see the Swamp people that the Guardians have corralled start to slither back into the forest, the one that was holding me now lying on the ground, an arrow sticking out of his eye.
Adam jumps down from the tree and stalks towards us. Looking at Ian, his eyes dark, he says, “Looks like you might still need me.”
Ian glares back, pushing me behind him. Adam doesn’t look at me, but I look at him, and I can see that his face which was once bloodied and bruised from Ian’s assault is fully healed.
Impossible.
I take off my jacket, wrap it around my waist, then remove one of my layered shirts and begin wrapping it around the wound on Ian’s arm.
“Where are the children?” Ian asks.
“Mack is watching over them,” Adam stares at Ian. “Let’s get you cleaned up before Sam shows. Kids don’t need to see you like this.”
We retreat to the narrow trail, Ian shakes me off of him as I try to help him walk.
“Not that bad,” he waves a bloodied-knuckle hand at me and moves an arm length away so he’s walking in the tall grass.
“Did you know this would happen?” I ask Adam.
Adam, walking in front of us, simply turns his head so I can see the corner of his eye as he looks at me, without responding. But that’s all I need. He must’ve known, or had some sense or warning that the Swamp People were near, and used the situation to promote himself, teach us a lesson.
Adam veers off of the path, into the forest. I can hear the bubbling of the stream. I follow Ian to the water. He bends, unties the shirt I wrapped around the wound on his arm and submerges it in the cold water.
“Let me help you.” I reach for the shirt.
Ian moves away. “No. I don’t need help.”
“Ian.” I grab his uninjured arm, squeezing it. “Let me help you.” He’s pale, much paler than he should be. The nurse in me realizes it must be a bit of shock, of relief, anger. Maybe all three combined. I push him back. “Sit. Now, Ian. I will do this.” After all that has happened to us, I will not let this one incident be the final straw that tears us apart. I take the shirt from his hands, wring the cold water out, and use it to wipe his face. When the dirt and grime and blood are gone, and the only thing left are fresh cuts and swollen points threatening to bruise, Ian’s eyes meet mine. There is a glimmer there, a wateriness for just an instant, and then as quickly as I see it, it disappears, replaced with a blank stare, focused on the forest across the stream.
As I rinse the blood off of the shirt in the cold stream, my fingertips turning blue, the realization comes to me that Ian just killed a handful of men. I squeeze the shirt, rip a sleeve off, take a large cold rock from the bottom of the stream and wrap it in the remaining fabric of the shirt.
“Here. Hold this.” I press the wrapped rock to a knot on the side of Ian’s head that’s starting to turn purple. Using the sleeve, I begin wrapping around the cut on his arm. “You did what you had to do, Ian. No one will judge you for fighting for your family. Not me, not Lina, not even God. You kept us safe, you did well.” I tie the bandage around his arm, jerking him a bit to make him focus on me and not off in the forest. “We would have died if it weren’t for you.”
His face is blank. I look up to find Adam watching us, his bow gripped tightly in his left hand.
I grasp Ian’s face on both sides; move his head so he has nowhere else to focus but on my face directly in front of his. “Be here,” I whisper. “Now, Ian. Be here now. I am here, our children are here. I will not let this ruin you.” And just to prove that to him, I lean in and press my lips firmly to his.
When I pull away, he’s changed, now focused and aware. Ian stands, the wrapped rock still pressed to his face. “I’m not going to thank you, Christian.” Ian tells Adam. “If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess in the first place.”
“Fine with me.” Adam crosses his arms over his chest. “Just do me one favor,” Adam stares at Ian. “Call me Adam Waters in front of my men.”
Ian laughs. “That is the only and last favor I will ever do for you.”
“Fine. Let’s get the children and get you all out of here.”
Adam turns abruptly and lets out a loud whistle, a trill of notes. He turns his head to the right, holds his hand up for us to stop. Somewhere from within the forest the whistle returns. “Come on.” Adam waves. “They’re close.”
As we follow him back to the trail, Ian leans towards me. “Why am I holding a rock to my face?” he asks.
“It’s cold.”
“And?”
“You know, like an ice pack.” I explain.
“Oh.”
“What did you think it was for?” I ask.
“I thought you wanted me to throw it at him.”
We break the cover of the forest and find Mack walking towards us, Blithe and children in tow, surrounded by the remaining Guardians. I run for Lina and Raven, picking them up and holding them close to me.
“What happened to Daddy?” Lina asks as Ian walks towards us, a slight limp noticeable in his gait.
“He’s okay, honey. He got a little hurt.” I tuck a loose lock of curls behind her ear. “It’s safe now. We’re going to go home.”
We return to the tracks, escorted by Adam and Mack, standing there in an awkward silence until we hear the vibrations of the train tracks. Blithe herds the children to the protection of the forest cover and wait. The train pulls up slowly. I can see Sam through the front window, searching the side of the tracks for us. Ian steps out of the cover of the forest and waves him down.
When the train stops, Sam opens the door and steps out. Ian and I help the children into the engine car.
Blithe stops, waiting for us to get in.
Sam steps up next to her and takes her hand.
“Decided to come back?” he asks her as he helps her into the engine car.
“I didn’t want to leave,” she tells him softly before turning to the children and settling them on the benches.
We wait for Sam to climb up, but he never does.
“What’s he doing?” Ian asks.
“I’m not sure.” I walk to the door, down the steps, jump off and land on the solid ground near the tracks.
I find Sam talking to Adam near the tree line. They turn to look at me, stopping their conversation.
“Sam!” I shout to him. “Let’s get out of here.”
He waves, says one more sentence to Adam, then jogs towa
rds the engine car. I stop him before he gets in. “What was that? Why are you talking to Adam?”
“It was nothing-”
“Nothing?”
“I was just thanking him for getting you guys safely to the tracks.”
“Really, Sam. He kidnapped the children, made us all come out here, and you’re thanking him?”
“It wasn’t just him, Andie.” Sam tips his head at me. “You have to know, there’s always something else going on.”
I shake my head in exasperation. “Can we just get the hell out of here?”
We board the train, Ian gives me a questioning look when my eyes meet his.
“Ready?” Sam asks.
“Let’s go home,” I tell him.
Sam eases the train into full gear. “Next stop, the Phoenix District.”
I look out the window and see Adam and Mack watching from the tree line as the train pulls away.
--
By the time we make it back to Phoenix it is night. A row of Volker, as well as Alexander and Elvis, are waiting to drive us back to the Pasture.
“Where’s Crane?” Alexander asks as we carry the sleeping children off of the train.
“He said he was going to see George Crossbender,” I tell him. “I need you to send for Dr. Akiyama, Ian is injured.”
Elvis frowns. “He’s not coming back here?”
“I hope not,” I tell him.
“Crane’s not coming back?” Sam asks as he carries Astrid, she is sleeping on his shoulder.
“No,” I tell him. “We made a deal. He won’t be back for a while.”
“Where did he go?” Sam asks.
“I think he’s going to Tonopah. But as long as he’s not here, I couldn’t care less where he goes.”
We make the quick drive to the Pasture. And the feeling of the comfort of home envelopes me as we pass the gates.
Dr. Akiyama tends to Ian’s wounds, stitching and bandaging the cuts. Sam escorts Blithe and the boys back to her house. Once the children are settled and tucked in together in the same bed having fallen asleep after Lina began reading a story to Raven and Astrid, I retreat to my room. Ian follows.
“What did they do to you?” Ian asks.
“I don’t think you would believe me if I told you,” I tell him looking around the room. Something is different here.
“Tell me.”
“Crane only gave me the children back on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“He wanted to inject me with nanocytes.”
“What are nanocytes? Is that some more of his genetic engineering bullshit?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him no?”
“Ian, you don’t understand. He wouldn’t give them back to me.”
“Andie, what did you do?” He takes a step towards me. “You didn’t let him, did you?”
“I had no choice.”
“You always say that! You always say that you had no choice. Everyone has choices, Andie. You could have done something, fought back…”
“I don’t want to fight, Ian! I’ve done enough fighting. I’ve seen enough fighting.”
“So you just laid down and took it?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Then what happened?” He stares at me while I remain silent, until he starts pacing near the doorway. “Okay then, what do these nanocytes do? What is their function?”
“They fix errors and damage in the DNA. They reconstruct cellular breakdown so the body doesn’t get sick, so it will heal, so I can’t… so I’ll never…”
Ian stops pacing, steps back, staring at me in disbelief. “So you won’t ever die.”
“Yes.” I break down in tears. And when I can calm myself, I tell him the story that Crane told me.
“So you’ll be like this, forever?” he asks.
“Unless I can get them out of my body.”
“Will you?”
“I’m going to try. I don’t want this. I don’t want to stay like this while everyone else around me ages and dies. I got you back. All I ever wanted was to grow old with you, like we promised to do together. I don’t want to live on, alone…” Suddenly, I realize what’s different about the room. “Where’s Raven’s crib?” I ask Ian.
“It was supposed to be a surprise.” He walks over to the empty space along the wall that once held the crib. “I moved him into my old room.”
I stare at him, letting it sink in. Husband and wife. That is what we are, and while we made strides getting back there, knowing what I know now, I can accept it. I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you, Ian,” I tell him. “I’m so sorry I let this happen. I don’t know how right now, but I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make this right.”
“Well, it looks like you have all the time in the world, now that you’re going to live forever. Will you still love me when I’m old and wrinkled? Will you still love me and my old wrinkly balls?” He asks with a furtive smile.
“Shut up!” I smack his shoulder. “This is no time for jokes. Don’t you see what he just did? Crane just took it to the next level. You know what he told me, that the Residents, these sheep Residents, need new Gods to fear. He thinks he’s rewriting history. Rewriting faith, religion, and these people will believe him.”
He releases me and steps back. “So, he’s creating his own deities?”
“No. I don’t know. I don’t know what he’s doing. All I know is that I am nothing more than a single person trying to keep my family safe.”
Ian steps towards me, placing his hands on each of my arms. “Maybe you were, but I don’t think you are anymore.”
“I’m no different. I’ll prove it to you.”
I leave the bedroom and head for the kitchen. Flicking the stove burner on, I reach for a knife from the butcher block and hold it over the flame, sterilizing it.
“What are you doing?” Ian asks, having followed me.
“Something I should have done a long time ago.”
I rest my arm on the sink and using my index finger I feel for the small lump that Crane injected into my skin. Finding it, I adjust the knife in my hand and press it to my forearm.
“Andie!”
“Be quiet!” I scold Ian. “You’ll wake the children.”
I press, suppressing the noise of pain in my throat. Bright red blood flows down my arm and into the sink. When I feel the tip of the blade hit something hard I stop. Setting the knife in the sink and using my fingers, I reach into the wound, grasp the transmitter between my fingernails, and pull it out. Holding it up to the light I inspect the small piece of metal. Crane told me it was a transmitter, and then he told me it housed the nanocytes. Whatever it really is, I throw it down into the sink drain and turn the water on.
“Oh my God,” I hear Ian whisper as he grasps my arm and twists it towards him.
“What’s wrong?”
I look down to find the gash I just cut into my arm has closed and the only thing left of my self-inflicted wound is a light pink line and the blood drying on my arm.
epilogue
“Things are well?”
“Things are well,” I repeat to Dr. Akiyama from his dark blue sofa. Ian squeezes my hand.
“I’m assuming you’re speaking to each other on regular terms now?” he asks.
“Yes-” I start.
“I don’t know, Doc,” Ian lets go of my hand and stretches his arm along the couch behind me, “sometimes we do things that don’t involve speaking.”
“Ian!” I swat at his chest and feel my face becoming an increasingly darker shade of red.
“That answers that,” Dr. Akiyama mumbles with a smile and makes a mark on his notebook. “Things seem good, there’s progress, finally.” He looks between us.
“It’s good,” Ian replies as he rubs his fingers over the wedding rings. I’ve taken to wearing them again instead of hanging them off of my necklace. The necklace that Adam gave me, I had to hide that, I’m not sure I
can ever look at it again without remembering every single lie he’s ever told me.
“Have you spoken about the most recent turn of events, the outing to…” He flips through his papers. “Ah! Romney, West Virginia. It’s beautiful country there I hear.”
“I think so,” I reply. I look at Ian and squeeze his hand.
“Ian, have you come to terms with what you’ve done?” Dr. Akiyama drops the tone of his voice.
I grip Ian’s hand harder and watch as the color leaves his face. He’s suddenly pasty, white, and against the light blonde of his hair it makes him look ill.
“How many men did you kill, Ian?” Dr. Akiyama asks.
“Seven,” he responds.
“No.” I squeeze his arm. “Six, there were only six.” Adam killed the seventh and eight men; put an arrow through one’s heart and the other’s eye, the Swamp People.
“It doesn’t matter how many,” Ian mumbles as he moves his eyes to the dull gray carpet and releases my hand. I grasp it back, hoping that Dr. Akiyama didn’t see the movement, which would be a demerit against our progress.
“Ian, do not let this weigh heavy on your heart,” the doctor suggests. “There were abnormal circumstances and you were fighting to save your family. Something Andromeda has also experienced.”
“That’s different.”
“Not by much, just by numbers and, well, you weren’t being attacked, Andromeda, but the act was the same.” Dr. Akiyama turns a page in his notebook.
Ian whips his head towards me. “What is he talking about?” he asks, his eyes turning an impossible shade of darker brown, almost black.
There is an uncomfortable silence as I stare and the doctor watches us. I never told him the details of my deep dark secret, the one I knew he would hate me for, but promised he wouldn’t. Now it seems we share this sin, but mine feels a little darker. “The man I killed, he was unarmed,” I whisper to him.
The Phoenix Project Series: Books 1-3: The Phoenix Project, The Reformation, and Revelation Page 84