The Breeders

by Matthew J. Beier

  She had asked—no, begged—Orion to let her accompany him to the hover jet platform so she could greet Dex and Sheila when they arrived. There was a part of her that still hoped, despite having no reason, to see her dad. She stood there, next to Orion’s motorized cart, peering into the sky, searching for the source of that unmistakable vibration. They were getting closer.

  Maybe the driver let Dad come. Maybe somebody remembered what it’s like to act human, and they made an exception.

  She would know in a matter of minutes. But she was determined to be happy and grateful, even if it was only Dex and Sheila on the hover jet. Orion had prepared her for it, so there would be no reason to mope. Dex was the baby’s father, and he would be joining her in Antarctica. That alone was reason to rejoice. They would be fighting together to save humanity.

  And there it was: the hover jet, humming through the sky, appearing like a sparkle as the sun shone off its glass windows.

  Grace smiled.

  CHAPTER 56 (HIM)

  THE HOVER JET TOUCHED DOWN on a cleared strip of the landing pad. Dex and Sheila looked at each other with exhilarated grins. Grace and the man she was standing with were no longer visible, as the hover jet had shifted its angle. The pilot kept its rotary engines running and jumped out to open the door for them. It was freezing up here, and the sleek black coat Stuart had purchased for Dex did little to ward off the alpine wind.

  He followed Sheila out onto the cement platform. When they reached the other side of the hover jet, they both stopped, looking at their respective goals that were suddenly personified.

  Wiping tears, Sheila dashed forward, and the mohawked man standing next to Grace ran to meet her.

  Now, it was Dex’s turn, but he would not run. He could not. Last time he had laid eyes on Grace, he had ripped her heart in two, ignored their shared plight, and decided to take the selfish road.

  Seeing Grace now, he was ready to love her. But she had no reason to love him.

  A MEMORY (HER)

  GRACE GATHERS HER DARK HAIR into a ponytail, then realizes her face is far too round to have her hair pulled all the way back. She listens to the part of herself that says she looks like a five-year-old, shunning the trickle of confidence whispering that she has, in truth, become a beautiful woman.

  Tonight is a party with Todd Bender, though she is starting to doubt they have any future together. Three days ago, Todd told her he might be developing a sexual interest in men, even though his TruthChip clearly labels him a failsafe. He was not convincing whatsoever, and Grace knows it’s because his father is a priest who hates heterosexuals. Todd simply wants to have an easy, normal life, but the sad thing is that his effort to do so will be completely futile.

  His friend Fletch is a pig, so if the party isn’t any fun, she’ll come home immediately. Being social tonight is important, because Grace feels she is disappearing into the world’s woodwork, behind the dust trail of youth and hope and meaning. She grew up wanting to leave a mark on this ailing civilization, but if she is to be honest with herself, nothing in life has worked out in line with her idealism. All she has to do to remind herself of this is think about the Dyke Patrol and the fists beating down on her face that night, outside Pommie’s Pub. That had shown her the real truth about things, hadn’t it?

  The Obesaland project is still under-funded, and she fears it will get the ax any day now. The Queen is on the verge of rebuilding a full-on dictatorship at a level not seen since just after the Bio Wars, and this time, there is no real reason for it other than for the government to have control. And her own life: over half her family supports the Queen’s regime, even though they don’t say it to her face, and Linda is her only close friend. Nothing is certain, except for this moment, this choice to take one night at a time and experience new corners of life while she still can.

  For all she knows, joy is hiding in the shadows.

  CHAPTER 57 (HER)

  DEX WHEELOCK looked like a new man. He was bald now, standing in a black coat that hung almost to his knees. He stood with a new sort of confidence, which made him look taller, more dignified, like a man who had finally accepted the road he was paving through life as his own. Gone was the trembling man who had left her at Sterile Me Susan’s.

  Here was her daughter’s father.

  Only when tears froze on Grace’s face did she realize she was crying. Her storm of emotions broke into a smile, and she moved toward Dex. She was self-conscious; walking was more like waddling now. But it was because of him, of them both. It was a million years ago, that night at Fletch Novotny’s apartment. Now, it mattered not at all, and it mattered in every way. Here they were, on a hidden mountain ridge at the end of the world.

  And then Dex was sailing toward her, crying, and there was no hesitation as he met her with a kiss. It was the longest, fullest, and happiest kiss Grace had ever experienced in her short, mystifying life, and for a second, it was all that mattered.

  We’re home, she thought as Dex pushed his body against her pregnant belly. Now, they were a family.

  A MEMORY (HIM)

  DEX FEELS HIMSELF PUTTING ON a spray of cologne, his underwear, his pants, his shirt, a black stone necklace, socks, and shoes, but his anger and grief and fear and worthlessness are at the forefront of his consciousness, clear indicators that nothing about this night or life will be any different from what he always should have expected. He wants to hate Diana for leaving him, but he cannot, and this makes him angry, because he knows it was real love. If she left him because she was unhappy, that was for the best, because he wanted and still wants happiness for her. Yet the prospect that he was somehow a thorn in her life makes him sick to his stomach. To have been so duped into love feels like a razor cutting into his soul and removing the part that makes him human.

  And so he needs to feel angry at Diana. He needs to throw himself in the face of what they had together, succumb to what is sure to be another Fletch Novotny orgy. He had been an aimless man before Diana. He can become one again.

  Dex tells himself there is a certain brand of contentment in aimlessness and complacency, outside the world of love and intimacy. If only he can find it and harness it, he can laugh the happy memories away, even make the thought of them, of anything better in life, a joke. The way society is going, there will be no more chances to experience joy. That ship has sailed. He leaves his apartment building and walks into the night, resigned to endure a future of emptiness.

  CHAPTER 58 (HIM)

  “I’M SO SORRY,” he cried in her ear. “I ruined everything.”

  Grace stroked his head. It was rough; he had been shaving it. “No, you didn’t. You’re here. That’s all that matters. We’re together.”

  “Your dad—”

  “Orion tried everything, but they wouldn’t have it. No homosexuals. They’re transferring us all to Antarctica—”

  “I know. Sheila told me. She knew all along. I should let her explain—”

  “It doesn’t matter. None of it does. Is my dad okay? Is he staying here in New Zealand?”

  “If he can. He wants to disappear and try to survive what’s coming. There’s so much he wanted to say to you, Grace. He wants you to know he loves you so much. And he does. You’re all he was thinking about.”

  “And my father?”

  “I never heard. Your dad left, and your father never came after him.”

  They continued to hold each other. Dex glanced left, where Sheila and Orion were doing the same, whispering their own secrets to one another. Grace would have questions for Sheila, surely, but right now, it seemed to be the last thing on her mind. They would have time, at least before the baby came. The baby.

  Dex pulled Grace’s coat apart and put his hands on her swollen belly, feeling how warm, fluid, and incredible it was. He had never felt a carrier, never even seen one up close. It defied description for him, and the only thing he could think was, This is why life is such a miracle. Why every single person is worth cherishing, no matter who they a
re.

  “It’s a little girl,” Grace said.

  Giddiness colored Dex all over. He knelt down and examined Grace more closely. Then, still on his knees, he hugged her again.

  “A girl! They told you?”

  “When I got here.”

  “Do you have any names picked out?”

  Grace shook her head. “I’m hoping we can do that together.”

  A minute later, Orion ushered them all onto the cart, and they drove through the opening in the cliff. Dex saw that a frame was built into the rock, hidden underneath a natural stone awning. From far above, if for some reason Frederik Carnevale opened the air space over his mountain, only the hover jet landing pad would be obvious, if it was not covered in snow. The scale of the man’s rebellion left Dex mystified, awed, and grateful. He held Grace’s hand on the cart, imagining the energy passing between them, into the soul of their unborn child. What he wanted to send to that little girl inside was hope—hope that her life would be a series of positive events, that all the things neither she nor her parents could control would still grant her the possibility of a future.

  CHAPTER 59 (HER)

  GRACE AND DEX EXCHANGED STORIES. That circumstances had intertwined to bring them full circle, back into each other’s arms, was, according to Dex, a miracle. For Grace, being with him again was like breathing those precious moments of fresh air she had stolen on the landing pad, when he and Sheila arrived. He was a changed man, truly. When she had first met him, he had been comfortable in his own reticence, buried in a web of defense mechanisms that had kept him removed from the world and free of all culpabilities, save for those that mattered to him. Now, where Grace herself had swirled into fear and doubt, he had come alive. It was something he had simultaneously seen and heard on that dreadful train, as he was being cooked alive: a voice made of light. Even if their entire world were to go to hell, he told her, they would still be okay. His hopefulness was contagious, the exact remedy Grace needed to accept her losses without succumbing to despair.

  In her room on his first night in the mountain, Dex handed her a crumpled envelope. It was light brown and heavily textured, folded from Linda’s homemade paper, and sealed with wax. On the flat side was a bright red smear of lipstick—a kiss traveled across the world. Here in Mount Tasman was the last footprint of a friendship that had grown with them since childhood. The envelope unfolded into a flat sheet, and on its back side was a scribbled message:

  One last kiss for the woman I will love forever and ever. Thank you for being my best friend. Be safe, and save our world.

  Yours forever,

  Linda

  Grace held the note to her lips, and grief made of love ran from her eyes, onto her hands, dampening the paper. Memories of Linda were like bursting rays of light in her heart. Just as with her dad and even the rest of her family, the pure and perfect sensation was hers to hold, untouchable to the world. It would follow her to the end, even spread into new relationships brimming on the horizon.

  Her life with Dex had only just begun. As the days passed, their happiness to have each other outweighed everything else. He was now learning to be a birthing coach to Grace in their Wednesday classes, and all of the other single women glowed over him. As Grace continued to grow and her due date approached, life was downright pleasant. Yet there was a through-line of anxiety in their exhilaration—neither one wanted to think what life would be like in Antarctica, and the only people they could speak with about it were Hilda, Orion, and Sheila. It would be winter there when they arrived. If the baby came on time, their hover jet would be landing when winter reached its most ferocious point: constant darkness, for over a month.

  “But the Sanctuary has artificial daylight in the winter, from everything I’ve ever seen about it,” Dex told Grace one evening, on the deck, ten days into his stay. “And there’s a retractable roof where transport hover jets come through and land. You never really touch the outside. And it’s huge. The size of a small city.”

  Still, there was the question that haunted Grace, late into those final nights of pregnancy. “But what if . . . what if those rumors you heard on WorldCom were true? What if none of that footage of the Sanctuary was real?”

  Dex shrugged. “Then none of this is real.” They were lying in bed, face to face, whispering the way they had once before, the previous December. This conversation seemed to repeat for them, day in and day out. Grace had become a worrier, and Dex was now a soother. “I think the Opposition explanation makes the most sense,” he said. “It simply hasn’t been in NRO hands, and they needed rumors to cover up the fact that they’re losing the fight.”

  “God, I hope my dad stays down here,” Grace said. “You don’t think they’ll blow up all of New Zealand, do you? You’d think it would be just the big metropolitan areas, right?”

  “I’m guessing they’ll want to maintain the environment as much as possible,” Dex replied. “They can’t possibly get reckless with nukes. I mean, the fallout and ozone depletion from a drastic attack would prevent us from going back and repopulating, at least any time soon. Plus it could mess with farming and crops for a good ten years or so.”

  “But the Sanctuary could sustain us for ten years, right? Maybe the counterstrike is going to be that huge.”

  Grace cuddled into Dex’s arms. He kissed her matted hair, not caring that it probably felt dirty. Showers were limited to one every three days in Mount Tasman, which she guessed was a hint that her entire future would be a much rougher sort of survival. Life back home had been too clean, too easy. But she had her failsafe, which counted for more than she had dared to hope for.

  SINCE HIS ARRIVAL, Dex had become obsessed with the Wall of the Future. He visited it almost every morning with Grace, brooding over Diana Kring’s message and the two signatures she had signed. A trace of the old Dex showed up whenever they visited the wall. Guilt etched its way into his face whenever he saw Diana and Michael’s names.

  “She thought they were going farther into the mountain,” he said one morning, chuckling at how ridiculous the idea now seemed. “Just like everyone else here.”

  “But she’ll be at the Sanctuary. So will your little boy.”

  Dex must have sensed the worry under her voice, because he turned his head and looked Grace in the eyes. “Grace Jarvis, I’m not leaving you again. Don’t even think like that.”

  “But what if . . . what if we get there, and you and she rekindle whatever you had . . . ?”

  “You know, you’re ridiculously emotional,” Dex said, grinning. “Is that what being pregnant does to a woman? Maybe it’s better the NRO made it illegal.”

  Mixing a laugh with a pout, Grace punched him on the shoulder. He was being honest, though; she could tell. It was that new light in his eyes. There was no need for him to disappear into self-protection anymore.

  “If Diana is there with our son, and if he really is mine, then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. All I know is I’m here to be with you. Apart from having promised your father I’ll watch out for you, I want to be with you. For what that’s worth. But something tells me you’ll manage to convince yourself otherwise.”

  “My hormones are crazy,” Grace said, as if that settled everything.

  Hundreds of names were staring at them, and Dex took her by the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get dinner.”

  SHEILA WILLY WOULD BE STAYING at the Mount Tasman facility with Orion until it was time for the counterstrike. The mountain’s staff had quarters separate from the maternity dorm, which, Grace noticed, helped sell the illusion that the facility went deeper into the mountain than it actually did. But Sheila and Orion often joined Grace, Dex, and Hilda for dinner. They shared the end of a long table at the back of the cafeteria, and somehow, the routine began to please Grace. Mount Tasman and the people in it were beginning to feel like home.

  The days passed, one after the other, and many of them felt the same. Dex had remained convinced for the first three weeks at the mountain that O
rion, Sheila, or somebody else would allow them to call out on a scrambled com line, but orders were strict; none of the refugees were allowed to make contact with the outside world. There was too much risk. Every day, Grace thought about her dad, father, brother, and nephew. Where were they? Had her dad been able to find a small house in New Zealand, where he could spend the rest of his days? Better yet, had he met new friends? And what about the rest of the family? Was Lars still marching with the Gay Youth, and was her own father still supporting it? Did he even care that his husband and daughter had become casualties of this atrocious battle for life? In a way, Grace felt the worst for her brother, Abraham. He had always been passive and devoid of self-confidence. Given the choice and a bit of encouragement, however, Grace thought he would have sided with the Opposition.

  On the tenth of June, Sheila was admiring Grace’s expanded belly. Hilda’s too was getting large. Like most of the women who had not yet disappeared from the maternity dorm (Grace did not like to acknowledge these women, because the thought of their being duped threatened to crack her optimism), she and Hilda now had a glow about them that simply could not be suppressed. Their babies were coming, and an understood joy was bursting from their seams.

  “One more stop, and then we all get a chance at a new world,” Sheila said in a hushed, excited voice. “It seems kind of exciting now, doesn’t it? I mean, living in a self-sufficient utopia built on two miles of ice? At the very least, all of us here are going to get a chance to experience something most humans in history would never have dreamed of!”

  Orion gave her a warning look. “Shhh . . . too loud.” Then, he smiled. “But I agree. And what’s the worst that can happen? We go to the Sanctuary, finish out our years, and die?”