by Dee Carney
"Wait. Born? What do you mean, born? I don't understand any of this.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “How old were you when you joined?"
"Soldiers are not made, they are born. I see this isn't making much sense.” He gave a small, humorless laugh. “Let me back up. Once-men, our enemies, are exactly as the name implies. At some point, man began to metamorphose into beasts without reason or humanity, although oftentimes retaining a cunning intelligence. Occasionally, they even retain their human knowledge, but that is the exception and not the rule. In the beginning, and even now, the change is rapid and unpredictable."
He paused for a moment, studying her for a reaction, but she sat still. Nicholas hoped above all else that she was remaining open-minded to him.
"In the beginning, to defend ourselves, our leaders tried to predetermine the people most likely to change and, for a little time, we were able to predict. Scientists discovered the problem at the cellular level. So cellular flaws, genetic flaws were determined to be the culprit and those with flaws were imprisoned immediately and usually killed. For a brief time in our sad history, even newborns with flaws were immediately euthanized. Then something changed somewhere and the only people who were not changing were those with the flaws. Because of the swiftness and unpredictability of the change, another advantage was needed and so we found it. It was decided that those who would never change were best suited to defend against the Once-men. So, now, any child born with a genetic flaw is taken from their family by their first birthday to be raised as a Soldier."
"Well, what kind of flaw do you have?” she asked gently, not knowing how to soften the blow of the question. He said nothing, choosing to look at her with the adoration he was feeling. She studied his expression and he could almost see the understanding blooming in her mind. “Your beautiful eyes? You were taken from your family because of your eyes?"
"Thank you for not seeing them as a flaw.” He sat on the bed next to her and reclaimed her hand in his. “As I said, we are losing. Soldiers see their first battle by eighteen years of age and most are deceased by their thirtieth birthday. It is a hard life, but fulfilling."
The hot anger flashing through her was almost palpable. “Fulfilling? What part of a life that you did not choose for yourself could be fulfilling?"
"I do not know anything else. The last few days with you have been my only glimpse at what we fight to preserve. Soldiers have no families. We do not purposely procreate. We do not form long-term relationships. Once-men kill without discrimination or reason. It is just their purpose, for lack of a better word. It is our purpose to destroy them before they destroy us. So we give our lives willingly."
Sitting back to share the pillow she used, he reflected that her questions were a good sign. She had not removed her hand from his and this positive body language was precious to him.
"The day I was brought here, I had just been defeated in battle. I was about to die. I know I was. I could feel it approaching. Then I awoke here with you. Last night when you had woken me from what you thought was sleep, I had traveled home again. And again, while there, I was defeated in battle. I did not feel the final death blow, but knew with certainty that I faced my death. I was as surprised as you to see the blood on the sheets when I came to. Could it be a sign of something bringing me closer to actual death, instead of flipping between the two places at its brink? I don't know."
"That's the second time.” Eyes closed now, Anna's chest rose and fell with each breath. When she didn't say anything additional, he prompted her to explain her statement with a quizzical grunt. “You've said ‘I don't know’ twice in the time that I've known you. You're using contractions."
She opened her eyes and looked at him. She began to smile but the expression faltered on her face. Her hands played with the soft sheet, rewrapping it across her chest where it had started to fall. When she glanced at the window, it seemed her attention was focused momentarily on the stars in the sky.
She returned her attention to him where he patiently waited. “Why are you telling me this?"
"Do you really have to ask why I am choosing to explain this to you? After what we have shared together?” Jaw clenched, Nicholas continued when she did not answer. “I think I am getting closer to true death. I think I may return one, maybe two more times, before the death I am evading catches up with me. I do not know why I am being spared, why I am brought here, but I feel that I am running out of time."
The reversion to ‘do not’ was not lost on Anna. She yawned suddenly, unable to stifle the action. Turning away from him, she planted her feet on the floor and stood. When he started to get up with her, she stopped him with a motion.
"I'm really, really tired. I can't think about this right now.” She paused. “I wish you had told me this before."
She didn't complete the thought, knowing that he would know she meant she had wished she had known about him and his theory before they had made love. Twice.
"I need some time alone. Would you mind?” She nodded towards the door.
Nicholas minded greatly. The hurt that he felt in his heart was the worst pain he had felt in a long life of dueling. Wanting to rage against her request and force her to see the truth in what he was saying, he acquiesced instead. Standing, he winced when he noticed her step away to avoid physical contact with him. He made an effort to respect her decision and turned toward the door without attempting to touch or reason with her. He stopped in the doorway with his back to the room and said the words weighing on his heart.
"No matter the how or why, or even how this ends, I want you to know that I am so very grateful to have met and been with you, Anna."
After he had left the room, Anna crossed the room and closed the door. Her old habits dying hard, she turned the lock. Her eyes burned with fatigue and tears that she would not allow to fall. She wiped at them angrily with balled fists. What to think? He wasn't clinically insane, she knew that. No matter what he had said, he was rational and intelligent. That much was obvious from previous conversations.
She supposed the greatest disappointment was in her so-called reliable gut instinct which was not only plain wrong in this case, but had led her straight into the arms of a delusional, albeit stimulating, man. Realizing her appetite had vanished with the tale she had been told, she got back into the bed where she could still smell him on the sheets. The tears were still coming through her closed eyelids when she fell asleep.
The sunlight glaring into the room forced her eyes to flutter open. Squinting against the harsh light, she sat up groggily in the bed, eyes automatically searching for the clock sitting on the armoire across the room. 10:23. She hadn't meant to sleep so long and wondered briefly after Nicholas. Not certain if she wanted to face him yet, she crept out of the bed noiselessly, opening the door to the room just as quietly.
Inside the bathroom, she winced at her reflection. The puffiness in her eyes was a tell-tale sign reflecting the night she'd had. So were the swollen lips and the streaks of red across her breasts, abdomen and thighs where his mouth and hands had explored her in the night. A small shudder ran through her groin at the memory and she forced the feeling away. Stepping into the tepid shower, she replayed their conversation and tried to decide what to do with the information.
Inside the kitchen later, she poured a cup of the coffee long since turned cold from the machine that had turned itself off an hour after turning on. Adding a spoonful of sugar and some ice cubes, she drank the cold concoction, grimacing against the bitterness. A small splash of cream was added to the drink and she drank again, this time with a small sense of satisfaction.
She watched Nicholas outside where he was nailing up boards. Every few minutes, he would stare off into space, but then almost as quickly shake his head clear before resuming working again. She noted that he was moving slowly this morning and wondered briefly if he was feeling the effects of the physically strenuous night. Too quickly for her, she finished the drink and, not wanting any more, decided she had
stalled long enough and walked outside.
* * * *
Nicholas heard her approaching and he turned to watch her. When she didn't speak, he turned back to the board in front of him and began hammering. They continued to work without speaking and it was not lost on him that she continued to avoid any physical contact. She offered a small apology later when she dropped the nail being held out to him as he tried to touch her hand.
Almost an hour later when it happened a second time, he barked at her in frustration. “You cannot avoid touching me forever, can you?"
He was immediately sorry as soon as the words left his mouth. All night he had forced himself to stay awake and he could feel the effects. Waves of nausea were coming and going and his eyes stung as he had never felt them before. Often he found his mind drifting and only literally shaking his head helped him to refocus. Little things like the sound of a distant lawn mower or a bird call were beginning to make his nerves crawl. He knew he could not stay awake forever, but he feared what would happen when he did finally sleep.
"I apologize,” he offered.
Anna turned to look at him and seemed taken aback by the transformation. In the night his eyes were rimmed with red. A close inspection of himself in the mirror this morning showed him how his eyes were now bloodshot with dark circles lining them. The red around his eyelids had deepened and covered a larger area since the night. His face looked haggard and stubble was beginning to show across his jaw line. He couldn't trust himself to use the razor that she had thoughtfully provided, afraid that his trembling hand would inflict more damage than he cared to tend. The haunted look he found in his own eyes reminded him of what it was like to see friends he'd cared for mortally wounded. It was the solemn aura of someone who was watching a loved one die.
"Are you ok?” Her hand went tentatively to touch his face. Despite looking feverish, he knew his skin was cool to the touch.
Nicholas breathed a small sigh of relief that she was still capable of performing an act of caring towards him.
"I am tired,” he admitted.
Fighting the urge to say more, he stood silent. He wouldn't give her more information than that for now. She was having too hard a time with everything else that had been said. As her hand started to slide away from his face, he turned and kissed it. Reacting as if she had been scalded, she drew the hand away sharply. Wounded, he grabbed her by the shoulders and stepped closer.
"Why are you being like this?"
"I'm not being like anything,” she mumbled. Anna's eyes had dropped to the ground and she wouldn't look into his.
"Yesterday you could not keep your eyes off of me."
He was almost screaming. Nicholas recognized the fatigue was keeping him on edge and he would not allow it to drive a further wedge between them. His voice dropped back down to an even level. “Dammit, look at me!"
Anna's eyes closed as if she was deep in thought. His emotions were raging through him and he needed to understand them for both of their sakes. Nicholas shook her shoulders and she opened her eyes, looking directly into his. His chest tightened when she began to shed large tears.
"What do you want from me?” she cried.
"I want it to be like it was before,” he said. Each tear drop he watched fall was like a stab to his heart. “Are you really so torn by what I have told you? It changes nothing. Nothing."
He released her shoulders and pulled her against his body. Breathing relief as her arms wrapped around his waist, he closed his own eyes. He murmured against her hair.
"You are not upset by what I told you, are you.” It wasn't a question. “You are upset because of what we are feeling for each other. You are upset because I have started to upset what is blossoming.” His words were followed with a kiss against her head. “I promise you. Nothing has changed."
The only response was the sound of Anna sniffling.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Nine
When they broke apart, Nicholas did not feel as if the issue was resolved, but he knew he had identified the true source of friction between them.
"Can you at least prove any of this about your home?” The tears had stopped but her face hadn't lost the haunted look that it had assumed.
"You know I cannot,” he said.
"Then I don't know what to believe. I'm sorry."
"I can understand that. Just do not dismiss me yet. If I can find a way to prove this to you, I will."
Mutely, she nodded and turned to walk back inside the house. He watched her retreating figure and tried to determine how to find the proof she needed. Bending to pick up another nail, he fought another wave of nausea. He had helped himself to several cups of coffee this morning, but the drink had only caused fine tremors in his hands from the over-stimulation.
Stifling another yawn, he glanced at what was left to be done. Only a few more boards needed to be nailed in place to complete the fence. He turned and surveyed the full expanse of the yard. Now Anna's neighbors would be hard-pressed to see inside her boundaries. He grinned at the memory of her warning him from trying anything dangerous against her because the neighbors could see everything. If he had his way, she would never fear another person again. He would be there to keep her safe.
He gritted his teeth against yet another yawn and thought of how he could prove to her who and what he was. The yard around him darkened and he looked up. The sun was being covered by darkening clouds. Apparently the rain that had fallen yesterday was making a come-back. Working faster, he started trying to come up with a rudimentary plan. The only problem was that he was having a hard time maintaining his concentration. The few times he was able to focus, his thoughts were muddied. He just needed to rest, just for a minute. If he could just get a quick nap, he would feel better. Nicholas was sure of it.
Hammering the last nail into place, he stepped away from the completed fence. The hammer slipped out of his hand as he did one final chore, but he didn't notice. Listening, he heard a clap of thunder in the distance, probably several miles away. Nicholas propped his back against the fence and didn't bother to try to prevent himself from sliding to the ground. He felt strangely at ease leaning against the cool wood. Repositioning himself to get more comfortable, he closed his burning eyes. Just for a minute.
* * * *
"How did you know that Harry was worth it?” Anna was so relieved to have gotten Lucy on the phone. She was locked inside of her bedroom once again, a pillow lying across her lap as she sat on the bed. She had felt hollow inside since talking to Nicholas and didn't know how to resolve the feeling.
"What's going on, sweetie?” Lucy didn't try to disguise the concern in her voice. She was very protective of her best friend and would drive immediately over if Anna gave even the slightest indication that she was needed.
"I,” she faltered. “I don't know."
"Has Nicholas done something wrong?"
Anna gave a humorless laugh. “He's done too many things right. That's the problem.” Her words dropped off and she didn't offer more. Lucy didn't press, hearing the unspoken plea to not pry any further. Before speaking, she considered her response carefully.
When Harry had come to the hospital as a consultant charged with improving the flow of patients through the hospital, Lucy had been one of the reluctant staff nurses instructed to speak with the consulting group. The nurses had come to the meeting, ready to let the consulting group know about every flaw in the hospital's current system of caring for patients. Lucy, ever the outspoken one, had become the group's unofficial leader. Harry had seen himself as someone the nurses would appreciate as he was there to help them. They, on the other hand, knew all about consultants and their usual M.O. of instructing administration to terminate staff if they really wanted to bring in more money. Lucy had gone in, ready to tell him exactly what was on her mind, fearless of losing her job. She figured that she would simply go to the next hospital down the road and by morning have another. She had nothing to lose.
Som
ething about her cocksure attitude and fearlessness took Harry aback. Although normally cool under pressure, her attitude and aggressiveness put him on the defensive and for the first time in his life, he felt like throttling a woman. The friction between the two was immediately palpable to anyone else who entered the room and the other nurses and consultants chose to remain quiet while the two battled over the hospital's needs versus the patients’ needs.
By the end of three hours of arguing, they were both worn down and could only glare at each other, insults having long since been hurled recklessly. Nothing having been accomplished, the nurses were politely dismissed and requested to return the next day for another session. Harry was severely reprimanded for his volatile approach after they had left and the reprimand fueled his anger further. He stormed out of the room, heading straight for the unit where Lucy worked. When he found her at the nurse's station, he surprised them both by asking her out to dinner. They were married eight months later.
It was no wonder to Lucy that Anna questioned how she and her husband had managed to make it thus far through to their fourth wedding anniversary. To this day, everything they did together was reminiscent of their first meeting. They were a fiery couple but truly lived for each other. They had started trying to have a baby a year ago and the challenge brought another dimension of enthusiasm to the relationship.
"When it's right, you'll know,” Lucy promised.
"What if,” Anna started, “what if there are obstacles that make you doubt yourself?"
"Sometimes my dear, you'll just have to rely a little on faith,” Lucy said. “Sometimes it's nothing but faith."
* * * *
Nicholas didn't open his eyes right away. He could tell by the burning in his scalp that he was back home. It didn't take him long to figure where the Once-man's club must have landed in his last encounter with them. Careful to not alert anything to his presence by moving when they expected him to be dead, he slowly opened his eyes to a slit. Allowing his eyes to adjust, he peered out and scanned his surroundings. The small house was dark, but there was nothing moving in the stillness of the night. Gathering himself to his feet slowly, he remained wary. He pressed himself against a wall and silently stalked towards the entrance.