by C. M. Adams
Anyway, Proprietors are brought to the island to keep them safe. Not just us as individuals, but as a whole. If we were exposed to the world, all of us would be in great danger. I think I understand.
Reesy says to expect a variety of ages of people, top-side. First-death, at whatever age it occurred, is the age in which you live out your life as a Proprietor. I hate to think of how many people died at my age or younger. But at the same time, I’m a bit glad I didn’t live to a ripe old age.
I’m not very fond of the woman that’s been “briefing me” about the island and its rules. But then again, it might just be the rules I’m not particularly fond of. It turns out, however, that the police force I’ll be working with is actually more like a secret agency, which is kind of exciting I suppose.
I’ll be doing essentially what was done in my case; keeping steady surveillance on assigned people on the East Coast who are second-generation Proprietors and don’t know it yet. I’ll be part of the task-force that retrieves their bodies, should they die, in a timely enough fashion that they don’t come back before we can get to them. We’re also used for more obvious things, like keeping the peace on Pritchard’s Island.
I’m chalking it up to excitement, but since I’ve woken up here, I’ve felt this odd sense of peace and dare I say happiness. I can’t really explain it, but I do hope it lasts a while. It’s been a long time since I felt even remotely like this.
Tomorrow, I get to go top-side. I’ve got butterflies for the first time since prom…
Birdie stuck the journal back into the drawer, and laid back down on the cot. She smiled looking up at the ceiling, which wasn’t too far up, as it figured. Just as she doubted she’d get a wink of sleep, her eyes were quickly drifting closed…
* * *
She awoke to the sound of whispering outside her quarters. She cracked open her eyes, to peek at the clock on the side-table. 0800. Birdie quietly got up and headed to the dresser.
“I’m taking her shopping, first!” Reesy frustratedly whispered to Emmett as they argued in front of Birdie’s door.
“You’re out of your mind, Reesy! Do you know how pissed she’ll be when she finds out? It’s bad enough we waited this long to tell her anything!” he whispered back.
“We didn’t have a choice! She would’ve given us a hard time during briefing.”
“Well, we’ve got a choice now—” his sentence was cut off when the door unexpectedly swung open. “Good morning!” he turned to her and smiled.
“Morning, Em,” she returned the smile and looked between the two of them. “Something wrong?”
“Oh, no!” Reesy replied with a smile. “Are you ready?”
“All packed up,” she held up her journals and shrugged. Then she narrowed her eyes at Emmett. “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” she said as she considered the thin, black frames. “I didn’t think anyone would need them, here.”
“Oh, they’re just an accessory,” he replied. “See?” he stuck a finger behind the frame and wiggled it through the glassless eye frame. “I needed them back in the day. But since then, sometimes I feel like being nostalgic. Kind of brings me a little comfort, I guess.”
“Oh,” Birdie gave a small, sort of sad smile, trying to process the fact that Emmett was a First-gen, and all that that meant.
“I got you a little housewarming gift,” Emmett said, changing the subject and handing her a brown-paper package. “It’s not much, but I heard you used to have a collection of them. So, I thought I’d get the first in the series to get you started again.”
“Aw,” Birdie tucked her journals under her arm so she could take the package from him. “You didn’t have to do this, Em.” She tore the paper to reveal the book he’d gotten her. “Phantasmal,” she read the title out loud. “I even lost my own copy. It’s been years since I read this. I love this series. Thank you, Emmett,” she smiled and gave him a hug.
Reesy gave Emmett an annoyed glare, which he only returned with a quick sticking out of his tongue. “Are you ready?” Reesy asked her.
“I guess so,” she said, pulling away. “Can we go for coffee before anything else?”
“Wouldn’t you rather go shopping, first?” Reesy asked, as they started toward the stairs.
“Actually, I loathe shopping. I really need a coffee, and I don’t mean the swill they make here in the mess hall. Emmett told me there’s a great little coffee shop not far from here on the way to my apartment. I’d like to check it out, if that’s okay.”
Reesy did her best to continue the casual smile, instead of the grimace that was fighting its way out. “Sure thing, honey,” she said, looking back over at Emmett in anger as he gave her a smug grin.
“You’re coming with us?” Birdie asked Emmett.
“Oh, honey, I wouldn’t miss this for the greater half of Pritchard’s Isle!” he grinned, happily.
* * *
“I’m not usually into science fiction,” Birdie explained in the back seat where she sat beside Emmett as Reesy drove, “But there’s just something about S.W. Colt that makes it a really great read.” Emmett had questioned what fascinated her so much about the series, and she was more than happy to attempt to explain. “It’s a captivating story, really. You should try it.”
“I get my fill with medical books,” Emmett scoffed. “Who has time to read, these days?”
“I used to say the same thing,” Birdie retorted. “You’ve gotta make time. But I understand. I would never be talked into reading the stuff you read, my dear,” she smirked.
“And I wouldn’t waste my breath asking you to attempt to grasp the concepts,” he returned the smirk.
“Thanks!” she playfully smacked his shoulder, making him laugh. She looked back out the window as they drove through the dirt roads. There was something distinctly different about the buildings, though Birdie couldn’t quite place exactly why. They seemed as though they simply grew out of the earth, blending in to an extent, yet built in a way that seemed mechanical. A lot of the structures had what looked like copper gears adorning the foundation. It reminded Birdie of the steampunk jewelry Sinese’s wife liked so much…
Other than the atypical architecture, things seemed fairly normal. There were a couple of joggers out, and someone riding a bike. A woman was walking a huge German Shepard around in her lawn. It was a little strange not seeing any kids. “Can I ask you guys something?”
“Shoot,” Reesy replied, glancing in her rear view at her.
“Why would it be so bad to raise kids here?”
The car grew quiet for a little while. Then Emmett decided to answer. “It’s not that it would be bad. But you’ve gotta consider the fact that once you’re here, you can’t leave. It’s best that a person has the chance to live a full life out in the world. Free, and all of that. You get a lifetime out there, just like any other person. Then you come here. You get a second life, and it’s everything you need. Anything you want, really. Just as long as it’s here.”
“No one’s had kids here in over twenty years,” Reesy added.
“Why?”
“Who would want to have their child taken from them and raised somewhere where you don’t get to see them again, until they die?” Emmett asked, as an answer. Birdie thought about that for a long while, allowing her gaze to fall back out the window. Em and Reesy shared a long glance in the rear view mirror.
As they got further into the island, Birdie saw a larger number of people. There were a lot of walkers, and an almost equal amount of people on bicycles. Little shops adorned the area, alongside diners and cafes. She was quick to notice the lack of motor vehicles.
“I take it there aren’t many cars here,” she commented.
“Not many,” Emmett replied. “This is an electric car. There are maybe a couple dozen on our part of the island. Mostly emergency response vehicles.”
“Can you imagine getting a gas tanker in here?” Reesy smirked.
“No outsiders visit the island?”
“Rarely. Not this part of it, anyway,” Emmett told her. “We’re self-sustaining, here. Everything is solar, wind or water powered. We grow our own food.”
“On occasion, we can get a food-run brought back from outside the island,” Reesy told her. “Words of wisdom: ration your chocolate.”
“Hoard your chocolate,” Emmett added. “Maybe I should’ve also gotten you some chocolate…”
“We’re here,” Reesy said a bit shortly, as she parked. Emmett made a sound similar to a squeal, clapping his fingers together.
“What are you so excited about?” Birdie asked, smiling and giving him an odd look.
“Oh, uh,” he glanced at Reesy’s reflection in the rear-view mirror before meeting Birdie’s eyes again. “Just… really excited to uh… try the new cinnamon-caramel-chocolate latte, is all,” he grinned, nervously. “I hear it’s all the rage.”
“Your gay is showing,” Reesy said, as she exited the car.
“It’s supposed to be,” Emmett retorted, snappily.
“What is with you two, today?” Birdie asked, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen you argue so much.”
“It’s nothing,” Emmett replied.
“Creative differences,” Reesy added, looking only at Emmett, before turning to head into the coffee shop.
Emmett took a calming breath in through his nose, and glanced over at Birdie, giving her a reassuring smile before he, too, headed toward the cafe. Birdie followed, catching up to him so that they entered together.
There was nothing particularly exciting about the shop. It was a lot bigger than anything she’d gone to when she lived in DC, and the only coffee she ever got in Dagsboro was always in a diner. This was almost a cross between the two. The walls were cranberry and chocolate colored, and there were small tables lining the right side.
There was a bookshelf against another wall, and a bar lined with stools separated the workers from the customers. Birdie had only glanced over the entire place before fixing her eyes on the menu board behind the counter. The shop was fairly empty, aside from a few tables with people around her age talking to one another in between sips of their coffee. In the far corner, someone sat facing away from the others, engrossed in something on his computer. And a few younger people sat nearest the shelf, their noses planted in books.
Birdie made a face at all the odd choices on the menu.
The young man at his laptop grew slightly annoyed at the small-talk going in the order line. He expected there to be talking. Hell, he’d been coming to this cafe for years, now. Sitting at home to work sometimes grew tiresome. There was no one there to make him coffee. Walking to and from the cafe several times a day tended to waste a lot of time. Noise was the sacrifice for saving time. Though in hindsight, it maybe evened out. In the end, hot and fresh coffee settled the argument in his head.
He was stuck on a line, anyway, and absentmindedly started to listen in on the conversation. He recognized Reesy and Emmett’s voices when they ordered. A small, sad smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he remembered his time with them in debriefing. Emmett had made a fair share of harmless advances. As flattering as it might’ve been at the time, he didn’t quite share the older man’s gender preferences. Reesy, of course, had thought it was quite hilarious. As much time as it had taken him getting used to the woman’s voice, he had grown fond of her as well. They’d shared plenty of conversation with coffee evenings together over the years. Most of them revolving around him needing to find a girlfriend. Something he was seriously not interested in.
The woman with them was next to order. It was likely her first time top-side, if she was with them. If he was lucky, they hadn’t seen him. Reesy would undoubtedly try and introduce her to him, in hopes he’d be interested in getting together. He sunk further down in his chair, which was already uncomfortable as it was, with his height. “Can I just get a plain old coffee?” the woman asked the cashier. “Three sugars and three creams, please.”
Something happened to his body, at the sound of the familiar voice. Like one of those instant ice packs that you have to break apart the piece inside, and suddenly there’s a chemical reaction that freezes it all. Except it wasn’t cold he was feeling. It was prickly and numbing and almost burning with its intensity. He realized his heart was pounding so hard against his chest that he was sure he could hear it, too.
He found himself moving, his pile of books crashing to the floor in his effort to turn around as he stood. He had to see if it was really her. His focus was now on the woman who had ordered the coffee with the three creams and three sugars.
“Birdie?” his voice felt broken; almost too quiet for her to hear.
The three of them had turned to investigate when they heard the books crash to the floor. But when the man said her name, Birdie narrowed her eyes as she met his. Then the realization of whom she was seeing, hit her. Suddenly, her entire body felt frozen and sweltering, all at the same time. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his. It was like they had been frozen there. “Oh god,” she thought. “I really am dead. I really am… dead…”
“Birdie, honey?” Emmett grabbed her shoulder. “Breathe,” he soothed.
She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath. “Brian?” her voice cracked, and she willed away the wetness that was gathering in her eyes as it blurred her vision.
He simply watched her in shock, close to tears, himself. “Birdie,” he said again, searching her eyes.
Something welled up so strongly within her, as if suddenly it was real. Birdie didn’t know what it was. She didn’t know how to process it. For years, she’d swallowed down and jarred up every single emotion that ever stood in her path, and set them on a huge shelf in her mind. Thousands of them, all sitting up there as if they’d never move. And Brian just pushed the shelf over completely. Fear.
She screamed. She screamed and then she ran right out of the cafe and kept going. She wasn’t sure where. But she was going…
Brian was still frozen. Suddenly, the day he’d woken up reborn, came rushing back to him like a punch…
“Where the hell am I!” Brian shouted, pushing up off of the table he’d woken up on.
“Calm down, pretty boy,” Reesy stood, trying to stop him from toppling off of the table.
“Who are you? What am I doing here? I… I don’t remember…”
“I’ll tell you, but you need to calm down.”
“Listen to her, sweet-cheeks,” Emmett said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. “We’re here to help you. You’re okay.”
“N-no… No, I don’t think I am,” Brian replied. “I… I think I…”
“Yeah, you did,” Reesy told him. “You died. Like a dumbass, I might add.”
“But you’re alive now,” Emmett told him. “It’s kind of a long story, and it’ll all be explained to you. But you’ve gotta trust us right now.”
“I need… I need to call Birdie,” Brian said, eyes searching the air in front of him. “She’ll be worried.”
“You can’t, baby,” Reesy told him. “You can’t talk to her again.”
Brian’s brows pinched together as he looked at her in confused anger. “I don’t know who you are, but you can’t tell me what to do. I’m calling her right now,” he pushed up off of the table and nearly collapsed to the floor. But Emmett caught him. “Let go of me!” he flailed out of his grasp and stumbled toward the door.
“Brian, please don’t make me sedate you!” Reesy called out as she and Emmett attempted to hold him down.
“You people are insane! Let go of me! Let me call her and let her know!”
“She saw you dead, Brian,” Reesy told him. “You can’t. You cannot contact her, do you understand?”
“You don’t understand!” he shouted, pulling away again as he felt a needle dig into his skin. “She’ll be so pissed off! She’ll be so mad…” the room started to fade from his vision. “Please…”
“Birdie!” Brian was suddenly thrust into motion, tearing out of the caf
e in the direction his sister had taken off in. “Birdie, wait!” He’d lost sight of her, and now his insides were churning with the sick feeling of loss. But there were some people standing at the corner of a nearby street with their dog, and they looked at him and pointed down one particular dirt road. He turned his head to look where they directed, just in time to see Birdie rounding the corner around another building. “Birdie!” he called out again, and pushed himself to run faster…
Birdie found herself hurdling over a short fence, and then trying not to punt-kick chickens as she continued to run through. She somehow ended up running into a barn-like structure. As she came to the dead end that was the other side of it, she panicked. She chided herself, internally. She should have known better, after all. But the logical part of her brain started to shout back at her. Birdie wasn’t a fugitive. She wasn’t in danger. What the hell was she running from? Why was she so terrified? Why did her chest hurt so badly that it was getting seriously difficult to breathe?
“Birdie, please stop!” Brian sounded behind her.
Oh right. That. “No no… no,” she shook her head, unwilling to turn around. Unwilling to allow herself to think that this was real. Not even for a second. Birdie couldn’t survive losing him again. She couldn’t handle it if she let herself believe, and it turned out not to be real.
“I’m so sorry, Birdie,” Brian’s voice cracked with emotion as he slowly, cautiously began to walk toward her from the entrance.
“No,” she shook her head again, still not turning around.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, unable to stop a tear tracking down his face at the sight of his sister’s shaking form in front of him. He was sorry for everything. Sorry for not listening to her. For dying the way he did. For leaving her alone, suffering, taking the guilt upon herself… He was sorry for hurting her. “Please, Birdie,” he said more quietly as he came into arm’s reach.