“Patience, Blake. And thanks for giving your Handler the heads-up on the party,” he says with a wink, before shooing me out the door. Great, whatever life-changing circumstances he has in store for them will be on my conscience. I just hope it isn’t Exile. These kids would be zero help to my father’s cause.
I watch from my balcony as the gaggle of drunk teens are escorted off—at least a hundred of them—in the blaring hot sun. They can barely walk, much less adhere to the strict instructions being yelled by the security detail. Once the kids have been ushered through the door that leads to the train, I see another half dozen men carrying evidence in carefully labeled bags. SCI Security is well trained to carry out raids. I’ve seen it happen before. But this raid has been far more civilized than the one I remember.
My fifth birthnight was rapidly approaching and the summer heat was deadly. I remember begging my father for more water. Leila cried around the clock. Collectively, our band of Exilers became pretty sluggish, lacking the energy to do even the most basic tasks. However, desperation had driven the men to help the Interceptors forage for food. Only women and children remained in the camps and no one had thought to stand watch as we slept during the day. That must be why we didn’t see them coming.
A large team of security detail from Garden City showed up toting shotguns and whips. Threatening to kill, the men went cave to cave and poured out water supplies, trashed food, and stole supplies. They ripped apart the soft brush we used for bedding. Destroyed fire pits. And burned excess clothing. It was chaos and everyone started to scatter. We feared for our lives.
A few gunshots brought us into line. The men corralled our group together at the bottom of the canyon, by pushing and shoving us down the hill, guns pointed at our backs. I carried Leila and my feet struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the unfamiliar men. Several times I’d fallen and been kicked by heavy black boots. Leila wailed and wailed. They insisted I shut her up or they’d do it for me. Thankfully, Doc’s Cleave made her way to us and took Leila from me and calmed her down.
What the men did next still gives me chilling nightmares. A half dozen kept their barrels trained on us, while the rest troweled a ditch around us, a couple inches deep. The process took less than twenty minutes with their tools. Then they poured some sort of powder into the ditch and lit it on fire. Ringed with hot flames, exposed to the searing hot sun, we were powerless to escape. Laughing, they’d gone on their merry way, toting large bags of our life-sustaining supplies back towards Garden City.
One of the more resourceful women figured out that we could extinguish the flames by scraping the hard soil with our fingernails and pushing it into the ditch. Once we’d cleared a path out of the ring, Doc’s Cleave led the children back up the canyon to the caves, while the other women stayed to put out the rest of the fire. A single spark could have set the entire canyon ablaze. Any remaining supplies would have been destroyed and we’d have all died from burns or smoke inhalation. They weren’t willing to risk it.
Hours later, the ladies trudged up the canyon, blistered from the sun, hands bleeding from their toil. They discovered what we had already. The supplies kept in our caves were gone or burned. But, our meager reserve, camouflaged by boulders in a nearby cave, remained undiscovered. So, resources were rationed and we’d subsisted on sips of water and crumbs of food for a full week until the men returned with more.
I find it interesting that the security detail didn’t kill us. Perhaps they rationalized that they weren’t responsible for our deaths if they left us to dehydrate, starve, or burn rather than put bullets in our heads. And, after all, they’d just been ‘retrieving goods stolen from the good citizens of Garden City,’ or at least that’s what they said.
Yes, whatever Brad Darcton has in store for the delinquent Garden City high schoolers, it will pale in comparison to the Ten’s treatment of the Exilers.
“What the—?” I say out loud as I approach the common area at school on foot. Did I miss my invite to some sort of date function? Most nights the girls group together and gossip while the guys play basketball, football or board the canyons. But tonight… it’s a whole different scene.
All I see are couples splattered about. Holding hands. Kissing. Laughing. Talking. Staring dreamily into each other’s eyes.
I walk over to Briella and Tristan, who are sprawled out atop a picnic table looking at the obscured stars.
“What happened after the party? Why has everyone paired off?” I ask in a loud voice.
“Oh hey, dude,” Tristan says. “Keep your voice down. My head’s pounding.” Really? Shocker. Don’t do TB. Just say no.
“Last I saw, you guys were being carted off by security. Where’d they take you?” I say, this time quieter.
“Oh yeah. We went to the SCI headquarters. It’s all a little fuzzy. But that Darcton dude from the Ten. He Cleaved us,” Tristan says.
“You and Bri?” I ask, looking at each of them. Briella smiles at Tristan. Tristan opens his mouth first to respond.
“Yeah, first he Cleaved us. And then, he Cleaved all of them,” Tristan says, sitting up enough to wave his arms towards the rest the couples.
“Seriously? The Ten Cleaved all of you?” I ask. “No. Freaking. Way.”
“Way,” he says. “Well, except for Bailey who apparently managed to get herself Exiled. She wandered into a high security clearance area at HQ. So I guess you won’t have to worry about her pawing you any more.”
“I’m so confused about how this all went down,” I say. I know the powers that be are listening in, so I’ve got to be careful what I ask. Bailey Exiled? What was she doing in a classified area of headquarters? I always thought there was something off with her after her 50s housewife comment. And all the Second Chancers were Cleaved? I’m teeb-free and I’m still tripping.
Tristan’s all too happy to share his warped memories. “Mr. Darcton seemed a little tweaked about our party. Apparently TB’s illegal or something. But instead of Exiling us the Ten decided to give us the ‘opportunity’ to become all responsible by Cleaving us. Which is pretty much the most awesome punishment ever.” Kira may be the only one who can appreciate the brilliance of Brad Darcton’s punishment for the partying Second Chancers. And she’s not even here to gloat.
“Wow,” I say.
“Wow is right. Wait, how come you didn’t come with us to HQ?” he says. Let’s see. How do I explain that? I look at my shoes and then back at Tristan.
“I was just leaving when the security guys arrived. When they saw I was sober, they told me to go home,” I say. “I guess I missed out. How’d they do the Cleaving?” I doubt Tristan, Bri and the others got the full Cleaving treatment, given their inebriated state. Typically, physical tests and questionnaires proceed the pairings, to insure good Cleaving matches. Following the official pairing, the SCI provides a ceremony and grand dinner celebration.
“They just called off names by pairs and then had us sign some paperwork to make it all legit,” Tristan says. “Then they sent us home to consummate the Cleaving. Which we did several times.” Given how hopped up on TB he was, I’m surprised he could perform or remember.
As if narrating a documentary, Tristan starts to detail the consummation for me. My eyes go wide and I scan for an excuse to escape. Briella pretend slices her throat to try to get him to stop. Too much information. I see Ted Rosenberg and pretend like I have something urgent to discuss with him.
Ted confirms Tristan’s story. The Ten had the Garden City High sixteen-and-ups mass-Cleaved at SCI headquarters overday. Every single bone-headed kid who attended that party, with the exception of Bailey and me, has been Cleaved to their ‘perfect’ mate. Given there wasn’t an exactly equal number of girls and boys at the shindig, a few others got whisked off to HQ from their homes to join the party by afternoon.
“What does this mean for Kira and me?” I ask. “Are we going to keep working with them now that they’re Cleaved? Cause I’m not so sure I want to listen to all that Cleavin
g talk.”
“For now, yes, it’s business as usual. I realize as the only unCleaveds of your age range that it will be awkward, but it was awkward anyway, right?” he chuckles. I nod. “The Ten will be reviewing the program, and will adjust it as necessary. I’ll let you know if your duties change.”
I think what he meant to say is he’ll let me know when things change. The Ten’s likely still hoping Kira and I will Cleave—assuming they ever bring her back. Or, they’ll move us elsewhere—to another city. I shudder at the thought. Having two singles amongst dozens of Cleaveds just isn’t going to fly for long. The dynamic would be too awkward. They’ll be saddling the couples with kids before long and then what would we have to talk about? Our mythical labies?
“Kira’s going to freak when she finds out about all this,” I say.
“If you’re referring to Tristan and Briella, I really don’t think she’ll be bothered that they Cleaved,” Ted says to me.
“Well, no, I just meant the whole thing, although I guess that might still bug her,” I say. I don’t know. Tristan and Bri had said they’d all been getting along well before Kira disappeared. I’m not sure how she’ll react.
“I don’t think so. The two—meaning Tristan and Bri—apparently had a long-term sexual relationship back on Earth behind Kira’s back,” Ted says.
“Serious?” I say. “How would you even know that?”
“They were caught in the act on video. Kira viewed the video prior to her vacation,” he says.
That’s the video he and Brad discussed? And the same one mentioned when he was talking to that other guy in the steam room? That makes sense. When they decided to place her in spitting distance of her ex-boyfriend, they’d made sure to have a smoking gun to keep her from ever being tempted to reunite with him. When they feared I might die, they decided to show it to her so that she wouldn’t turn to Tristan. But with me out of the picture, they wanted her to have someone to confide in. Insert Ethan Darcton—the alternative heir to Thera.
“Wow, that’s extreme,” I say, mostly to myself. “She must’ve flipped.”
“I wasn’t there to see her reaction, but I’d imagine she was upset by the news,” he says.
Upset? With that news and me missing, I’d be surprised if she didn’t go insane.
Anything less than abject submission has to have some attack in it.
Frank Herbert
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kira
I awaken groggy, nauseated, hooded, and with extreme facial pain from where I was whacked with a gun. From the intensity of the pain I’d guess I have a huge welt and am in for some very attractive bruising. My captor drops me in a heap onto a hard surface. It’s then that I hear a familiar voice indicating that I’ve returned to Thera. Brad Darcton. My hands are tied behind my back with something thin and cutting. A tight gag keeps me from speaking. Oddly, I feel better than I did the last time through. Physically, that is. Mentally, I’m just waiting to be shoved into a padded room as the memories of the deaths at my childhood home flood my brain. Have to keep it together, I think. I wriggle to indicate I’m awake and await to have my hood, gag, and cuffs removed—and to see if Ethan and Jared made it through with me. The thought of either of them dying at my hands is unbearable.
“Ah, it appears our little rebel has awoken,” I hear Brad Darcton say. “Keep her hands in the restraints until I know that she plans to behave.” A pair of ice-cold hands removes my hood and then my gag. I wrench my head around and am devastated to see neither Ethan or Jared in view.
“Where are they?” I ask, struggling to speak.
“Who?” Brad asks in a menacing tone.
“My brother, Jared. Your son, Ethan,” I say, emphasizing the ‘son.’
Brad strolls over to me and with a nasty glare says, “I’m so sorry to hear about the untimely deaths of your parents. It’s so tragic when those we love die—especially when the deaths could have so easily been avoided.” I drop my head and try to contain the sob growing in my throat. Is that his way of telling me that Ethan and Jared are dead, too? Everyone I care about. Gone. Do I dare confirm my worst fears? Could there still be one person left?
I ask yet another question I’m afraid to hear the answer to. “Blake? Is he alive?”
Brad paces back and forth for what seems like an eternity before answering. “We found him, though his situation is dicey. Honestly I don’t know which way it’s going to go. Your cooperation the next couple weeks would go a long way to lifting his spirits and giving him the fight he needs, don’t you think?” Brad says. He’s alive. I’ve never been more relieved or scared at the same time. This time I’ll take Brad’s threat seriously. If I don’t cooperate, Brad will make sure Blake dies. If I cooperate, he’s got a fighting chance. With Jared and Ethan presumably gone, I can’t lose my one last thread tying me to life and hope of a future.
“Whatever you need me to do,” I say, bowing my head in submission, even if it’s mock submission in my head.
“You three will be placed in a… quiet area… where you can contemplate the bigger picture of things,” he says, a sickeningly amused look on his face. Wait. Three?
I’m afraid to take his bait. “Three?” I whisper. Brad motions to a colleague and two hooded figures are dragged in and dumped beside me from an adjacent holding area. I let out a gasp of relief as I recognize the clothes to be Jared and Ethan’s. Their hoods are removed and they get the luck of having their cuffs removed, which I see to be simple zip ties. Jared looks bewildered. Ethan bursts into tears when he sees me, but Brad’s colleague keeps him from running to me to have a happy reunion.
Brad steps forward to address Ethan. “Son, welcome back. I assume you’ve learned some vital lessons while away. One, to always follow orders. Two, I warned you to avoid the women on Earth. You’ve got to stop fighting me on the Cleaving thing.”
How can he be so cavalier about killing my parents and Ethan’s harem? What a monster.
Brad turns to Jared. “And, here we have an unexpected guest.”
I walk over beside Jared and plaster on a smile. “This is my brother, Jared. And I’m afraid in my passed out state that I didn’t have a chance to educate him on where we were headed. Perhaps you’d like to do the honors?”
“Absolutely,” Brad Darcton beams. “Jared, welcome to Garden City, Thera.”
“And where’s Garden City, Thera?” Jared asks.
“It’s the location of Unit 27 of the Second Chance Institute. You left Earth by traveling through a portal to Earth’s sister planet, Thera. It’ll take some getting used to and we’ll be sure to get you properly trained as Kira and Blake were, but first I think all three of you need a little ‘me’ time. You’ll all be able to talk things through and gain some needed perspective,” Brad says.
“No, Dad. You can’t do that. Can’t lock us up. Me up,” Ethan says. He’s got his hands on his father’s shoulders and looks desperate.
“I can and I will,” Brad says, pulling away from Ethan.
“I have no idea what you guys are talking about,” Jared says, his mouth gaped open. “Can someone tell me what the fetch is going on here?”
“First, recuperation. Then, education. That’s what I tell every Recruit. I’ll see you all real soon,” Brad says. He pauses to scan us and our disheveled, bloody state, “Oh, and get yourselves cleaned up. What a mess.”
To the casual observer, one would think Ethan, Jared and I were sharing a typical Garden City two bedroom home. Ethan and Jared took the twin beds in one bedroom, and I got the queen, just like in the house I share with Blake. This house, however, connects to the center city clinic and has been completely locked down. A team of physicians and psychiatrists manage our ‘care.’
It takes a couple nights for us to lose the drug-induced haze shot into us after our entry. Brad Darcton knows he crossed a line executing my family and Ethan’s friends in front of us. There’s no going back to presenting the Second Chance Institute as a benevolent cause. So, his
only choice is to terrorize us into compliance, brainwash us into acceptance, or eliminate us.
In case he needs to go for plan C, he plans to extract another round of eggs from me. Despite being drugged, I recognize the shots for what they are. When I try to protest, I’m kindly reminded of Blake’s fragile physical state and my brother’s tenuous mental state.
Yes, Jared. He’s like a raving lunatic. Take note for future recruiting, SCI—don’t execute a Recruit’s parents in front of said Recruit if you want them to like you.
“I’m going to kill them. Every last one of them,” he says. He’s pacing the living room and kicking the furniture.
“That will be difficult without weapons and I think you’re a little outnumbered,” I say, tucking my feet up onto our couch so that he doesn’t whack me in the shins.
“They freaking killed Mom and Dad. For no reason,” he says, spitting out the words and his fists slamming into an imaginary punching bag.
“Not true. They had a reason. They wanted me back on Thera and I wasn’t cooperating. I called their bluff and they called mine. It’s my fault, Jared,” I say.
“It’s not your fault, Kira,” says Ethan. He’s barely said a word since we returned. I’m shocked he doesn’t blame me. “They were looking for a reason—any reason—to do it. I don’t think it was avoidable.” I’m worried about Ethan. He doesn’t look well. Not that I do either with a giant gun-shaped, multi-colored bruise on my face. In contrast, Ethan’s face is deathly white. I’ve seen him muttering to himself and hyperventilating. He checks the door lock every few minutes. If the average claustrophobic hates being in small, enclosed spaces—well then, Ethan goes nuts by simply being locked in any space.
“Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but I need to take responsibility,” I say. “Six people lost their lives because of me.”
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