Crimson Return
Page 16
Evie’s eyes soften and glisten with fresh tears. “Will he ever come back home?” My wishful thinking says yes, but reality slithers in, smashing my hopes to pieces with a sledgehammer. The decision to remain positive or to be honest volleys back and forth in a seemingly endless tennis match. For right now, positive wins out.
“Maybe,” I lift my voice to try to sound hopeful. It’s the best I can do for now.
Evie’s eyes brighten softly. “When?”
“I don’t know. Just be patient and give him some time. Hey, I have an idea.”
“What?” Evie stands and leans in toward me.
“How about we go upstairs and draw an ‘I miss you’ card for Marcus?” I feel a little devious, playing on Evie’s yearning for Marcus and love of crayons.
“Yes, yes!” Evie hops on her toes. I make a quick stop by the front desk to sign Evie out on the handprint identifier, and we take the short walk upstairs.
* * *
Today is Leisure Day. The one day of the week when virtually nobody has to work or train. Marcus and I used to spend the mornings sleeping in late while Evie watched cartoons on her tablet. Today, though, I sleep in alone.
Evie is already awake. In the background I can hear the pings and animal noises from her favorite game, “Word Zoo.” It teaches kids letters and simple words using the interface of a zoo. Evie’s love of animals made it a conspicuous favorite.
Evie’s cereal trickles to the floor as I mindlessly try to pour it and hold the kettle under the running faucet at the same time. I huff at my clumsiness. Maybe I should have slept in a little longer. Timber says it’s ‘pregnancy brain,’ but I’m in denial. I still won’t acknowledge the existence of the tiny being in my belly. I don’t want it to be there. It’s caused too many problems already.
There’s a knock at the door and I glance up at the plain black and white mechanical clock on the wall. Ten forty-five. I didn’t realized I’d slept in this late.
“You’re not dressed,” Glenn says as I open the door, wearing my red plaid flannel pajama bottoms and white camisole. His astounded look confuses me. Why should he care if I’m dressed or not?
“Yeah, I just woke up. Am I going somewhere?”
Glenn eyes me incredulously. “Preggo brain again?” I squint, cocking my head to the side. What is he talking about?
“The assembly?” he continues. I vaguely remember reading about a mandatory assembly in the newsletter. And then there was a door hanger on my doorknob earlier this week, a reminder, but I didn’t give it a second look.
“That’s today?” I’m not sure if it was a question or statement, but I flip around and scramble through my drawers finding something decent to put on in a hurry. Glenn steps in and closes the door.
“Hi Uncle Glenn,” says Evie as she dances over to him happily. She’s already dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a yellow blouse with puffy short sleeves and lacy collar.
I throw on a plain black tee shirt over my white camisole and change into a pair of snug knee-length shorts, fumbling with the button to get it to fit over my bulging belly.
“I think it might be time to start looking in the maternity section,” Glenn laughs. I give him a hard stare and he stops abruptly, which forces a short, staged coughing reaction. Frustrated, I grab a hair elastic, and wrap it around the button, through the buttonhole, and back around the button. See? No maternity clothes needed.
I look at the clock again—ten fifty.
“Evie, eat some cereal quickly before we go,” I say as I’m sliding a sneaker onto my foot.
“I already did. You were sleeping.”
I glance up at the cereal I had poured for her, most of it on the floor. I’m astounded that at her age she’s already doing things for herself. She shouldn’t have to fend for herself so young. I’m doing the best I can, but maybe it’s inevitable, with the desolate mine field this world has become, and both her parents dead. Or one of them anyway. Who knows whether my brother will make it out of Crimson alive? Yes, she’ll need to learn to take care of herself. Perhaps it’s better this way. I may not always be around to protect her.
I finish tying my shoes and join Glenn and Evie by the door.
“That would be record time for you,” Glenn bites, hinting at the hours I used to spend in the bathroom preparing for our dates. I glare at him as we leave.
I can’t stay mad at him for long. We’ve really developed a close friendship since Marcus left me. We’ll never have the relationship we once shared, but this is better. This is stronger and more authentic. I like this Glenn a lot.
* * *
I get chills as we step in through the double doors of the assembly hall, the hall where my wedding took place, or should have anyway. I take a deep breath to settle the shivers running through my bones.
The two-story room looks completely different now—cold, with bright, glaring lights raining down. The back wall is paneled wood and the side walls are painted tan. Rows upon rows of folding metal chairs sweep across the hall with a few aisles to break them up.
On the platform are General Granby, Myra, Sage, and a wall of militiamen to back them up. Marcus stands among them, rigid and unfeeling, staring straight ahead, as if looking at something in the distance. Or looking at nothing at all.
We are among the last to arrive, only finding seats in the back row. Evie whines that she can’t see, so Glenn lifts her onto his shoulders where she can get a better view.
I lean over to Glenn, and whisper, “Do you know what this is about?”
He doesn’t look at me. “Not exactly. But I have a feeling it’s related to some . . . intel . . . I told Granby.”
“What?” I ask, but Myra takes the podium and Glenn doesn’t answer me, despite the hard stare I give him.
“Good morning and thank you all for joining us here today,” she starts. Myra goes on conveying news from around the complex: accomplishments and setbacks regarding the Earth mission; the status of crops in the greenhouses; openings, closings, and delays; and other announcements that are of interest to the residents. Then she steps aside and passes the podium to Granby, who makes a special announcement.
Granby coughs and clears his throat before he begins.
“There have been some developments in our relations with the Trinity. As you all are aware, the Crimson Survivor Refuge is their stronghold. An inside source has revealed to us that they are beginning to develop a shuttle which is on course to colonize A1D3.”
He glances down at the podium briefly, I assume to look at his notes, then looks back up.
“We will not allow that to happen.” Several people in the room erupt in cheers and some others clap. Granby pushes his hand down, signaling the crowd to maintain composure.
“I know that many of you are in support of our plans to travel to A1D3 and start a ‘clean’ colony. I know many more of you are in support of eliminating the Trinity—”
The crowd roars with cheers even louder than the first. Evie wraps her arms around her ears and squeezes her eyes shut.
“Yes, yes I know,” Granby says, lifting his voice above the commotion. “So today I want to announce that we are planning a mission to Crimson.”
Granby pauses expectantly while the patriotic residents of Ceborec explode with ovation. He waits patiently for the applause to die down before continuing.
“The primary objectives of this mission will be to take back the plans that were stolen from us in addition to their own plans and destroy the vessel that they are building. Commencing immediately after the assembly, we will be having open sign ups for the militia. You will be required to complete three rigorous weeks’ basic training, and five weeks’ specialized training based on your placement. Details of the mission will be forthcoming only to members of the militia. I hope to see many of you soon.”
Granby quickly departs the podium and speaks a few silent words to Sage before taking his rigid stance on the platform.
My mind is whirling. Myra takes the podium a
gain and concludes the assembly, but the words are merely background noise to my thoughts. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. This is my chance to save Drake.
The possibilities are coming into focus now. Energy pulses through my bloodstream as I visualize the daring rescue mission that releases Drake from his abysmal captivity. I’ve been unable to formulate any kind of coherent plan since Glenn revealed to me that he was alive. But now, everything is coming together. The gears are spinning and there is no stopping them.
It’s only now that I happen to notice the tables flanking each side of the platform. After Myra concludes her final words, she and the others on the platform divide in half and each takes their place sitting behind the tables.
Then they are shielded from my vision as the crowd of onlookers rise. Some stumble out the double doors, happily going back to their leisurely activities. Some stand around chattering about the latest gossip. But most of them flock to the front of the assembly hall claiming their spaces in line. I turn to Glenn, but he’s gone and only Evie stands beside me holding my hand. I have to get in that line.
My eyes scan the assembly hall for a friendly face I know. The only face I recognize can hardly be classified as ‘friendly,’ but Lana knows Evie well enough and I think I can trust her.
“Lana!” I shout over the cluster of women gossiping between us. She looks my way briefly as I filter through the group. I’ve never really seen Lana outside the classroom before. She looks strange, dressed in blue jeans and a plain tee shirt. Somehow, she looks less intimidating.
“Lana,” I say approaching her. “I need you to watch Evie for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”
“But, Pollen!” she cries out. It’s too late. I’ve already dashed away and I’m not turning back now. She wouldn’t abandon Evie in a place like this.
The sign-up lines for the militia stretch all the way into the aisles, but they move fairly quickly. I assume we only need to give them our names since they have every other shred of information about us on file. I peer around and spot Glenn already at the table on the other side of the platform. I should have known that’s where he’d be. Always the eager soldier—just as he was at Crimson.
As I draw closer to the table, I spot Marcus and I instantly regret coming to this table. For a second, I consider switching to the other side. But the line is moving so swiftly I don’t have time to change my mind.
The man in front of me leaves and I approach the table, where a lanky brunette woman gawks at me.
“I’m Pollen McRae. I’d like to sign up please,” I state firmly.
She remains silent, looking down at my well-disguised belly. I don’t really look that big with my black tee shirt covering it. But I guess it’s no secret to anyone here that I’m pregnant. Not after the wedding fiasco.
“I, I don’t think you can join,” she says cautiously.
“It’s my body, my decision. I want to join the militia,” I scold. My eyes burn into her.
“I’ll need to check with General Granby first. Excuse me.” She stands up and I watch her as she walks across the platform toward the other table.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I turn back and Marcus is standing across the table glaring at me, leaning in as if he’s ready to pounce.
I’m speechless for a second. My heartbeat thickens, and a tiny sliver of my heart mends itself. This is the first time he’s taken the initiative to talk to me. Despite the circumstances, I’m actually a little flattered.
But the look in his icy blue eyes frightens me. It’s not so different from the look he gave me at The Snake Hole and after the wedding, while he was beating down the wall with his fist. I can’t let him see the fear lurking behind my eyes. I must remain strong.
“I’m joining the militia,” I say firmly, trying to stiffen my muscles to look taller.
“No, you’re not,” he growls.
I place my hands on the table and lean in, mirroring his stance.
“This has nothing to do with you, Marcus.”
“No, it doesn’t. You are not putting the life of that baby in danger. Now. Go. Home.”
“No!” I shout, a little too loudly. A few people nearby stop and stare at me before going back to their business. “I don’t care about the damn baby anymore.” I wince at the sound of those words. I can’t believe I just said that.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Marcus sneers. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because my brother is still alive,” I bark.
Marcus’s eyes widen. Before he can say anything else, the brunette returns to her seat, followed by Granby. I look up at his regretful eyes.
“Pollen, I appreciate your tenacity. The militia would greatly benefit from your talents,” he says optimistically. My posture straightens as I smile proudly.
“But I cannot allow you to join at this time.”
My body suddenly feels weak. The smile dissipates and my ego is crushed. I glance down at the brunette, who looks smug.
“It’s simply not safe for your unborn child. You need to stay here and take care of yourself,” Granby says.
I glance over to Marcus who is still frowning, but seems to carry an air of satisfaction as he sits back down. I turn and walk dejectedly back to the double doors, where Glenn and Evie are waiting.
“You didn’t,” Glenn snarls at me. The anger is evident in his single narrowed eye.
“And you did,” I narrow my eyes back at him.
“I’m not the one carrying our child,” he snaps. “Pollen, you can’t be selfish now. You wouldn’t drag Evie into this, would you?”
“Selfish? You think I’m being selfish? For wanting to rescue my only brother—Evie’s father?” As the words come out of my mouth I instantly regret saying them.
“Daddy?” Evie squeals. The last thing I wanted to do was give her false hope, in case Drake doesn’t make it out alive.
“We’ll talk about this later, Evie,” I snap at her. Taking her hand I pull her out of the assembly hall, making my way down the corridor as Glenn stomps alongside us. We continue arguing all the way back to our apartment, despite the fact I was rejected from joining.
“Why did you join? Why, when you have a baby on the way, too?” I ask with tears filling up my eyes. One escapes, plummeting down my cheek and on to my shirt, leaving a black stain darker than the fabric. Glenn reaches up and wipes the trail from my cheek with his thumb.
“Because I want what’s best for you. This mission is necessary for our survival. If the Trinity have the ability to leave, do you really think they’ll just leave in peace? Hell no! They will weave a tapestry of death and destruction and revel in it. That’s the kind of people they are. I can’t sit back and watch it happen. Pollen, I’m not scared for myself anymore like I was in the beginning. I’m scared for you.”
“But if you go, who will stay here with us?”
“You won’t need anyone to stay with you. Granby is on top of things. The Watchers will still be here to protect Ceborec.”
Something stirs deep within me. A feeling that scares me more than being attacked in the woods. More than being captured and imprisoned at Crimson. And more than the thought of losing my baby.
“I don’t want you to go.”
Before he can move his hand away I cup it in mine, holding it to my cheek. Then, as if we were saying our final goodbyes, I clamp my arms around his broad shoulders, resting my face in the crook of his neck. Glenn’s arms cross around the back of my waist, pulling me in tighter. I want to be in his arms.
“Don’t worry, Pollen. Everything will be okay. And I will get Drake out. I promise.”
Chapter 22
I saw very little of Marcus and Glenn over the past few weeks. Their training schedules kept them busy most days. Glenn and I would hang out every Leisure Day, when he had the day off. He would talk about how grueling their schedule was—twelve to fourteen hour days with only two short breaks for lunch and dinner.
I asked how Marcus was, but of course Glenn always kept his distance from Marcus, so he could never really tell me much.
The soldiers are due to be shipped out on their Crimson mission next week. I spent most of the day today with Glenn, while I gave Marcus some alone time with Evie. He still won’t see me. It upsets me but the sting isn’t as bad as it used to be. I’ve almost accepted his rejection and the fact that we can’t be together anymore.
Glenn and I watched an old black and white movie in the cinema and he made me dinner in my tiny kitchen—pasta with fresh pesto. Then we just sat around and talked; Glenn mostly told stories about the other soldiers—particularly the new recruits, who had a difficult time adjusting to the rigorous training.
As the hours pass and my internal clock winds down, I expect Glenn to leave, but he doesn’t. I hate to have to ask him. It seems so rude after the lovely day we had.
“Glenn, it’s getting late,” I say, hoping he’ll get the hint.
“There’s one more thing I want to do with you, before I leave next week.”
Uh oh. I had a wonderful time with him, I admit, but I’m still not eager to rekindle our relationship. What do soldiers want with women right before they go into battle? I’m sure it’s not sharing a glass of lemonade.