Folsom (The End of Men Book 1)

by Tarryn Fisher

  I nod. I already knew this, but it’s not why they’ve come. Ten members of the Society do not fly hundreds of miles to see how an End Man is feeling.

  “There is something else we’d like to discuss with you. It’s the matter of Laticus. If you recall he’s—”

  “I know who he is,” I interrupt.

  She glances at Doctor Hildenburg, and her next words are extremely measured.

  “Of course you do,” she says. “As you know, it won’t be long before he turns sixteen and we’ve brought him in to do his initial testing. He’s here at Genome Y at the moment.” She pauses to see how I’ll react, and when I don’t, she continues. “We’d like to start him in the program, Folsom—”

  “No,” I say.

  Milly looks irritated. It’s the second time I’ve interrupted her.

  “Marcus has not produced a pregnancy in one year. He’s been removed from the program and is currently having testing done at the Genome Y lab in the Grey Region.”

  Marcus Welsh is the new guy. He came in about seven years after me at the ripe age of eighteen and has the lowest success rate of the twelve. I’d not heard that he’d fallen off in numbers completely.

  “What does that have to do with me?” I ask.

  “He’s suddenly sterile, Folsom, and we don’t know why. Half of what was left of the male population suddenly went sterile twenty years ago, the rest soon followed. We have twelve virile men in these Regions and we can’t take the risk.”

  I lean forward, placing both of my elbows on the table. “You’ve put him in isolation?”

  “Yes,” she says quickly. “We had no choice.”

  “Neither did he,” I say.

  Milly’s eye twitches. She sighs and then nods at Rain, who passes me a sheet of paper.

  “As you know, each year we have a projected number of births we need to fill. The numbers are based on our estimation of stabilizing the population. With Marcus out of the picture, we fall behind. We need Laticus.”

  “He’s fifteen years old. He’s still a boy. The End Men don’t start until they’re eighteen, Milly.”

  She nods like she understands. “We know that, Folsom. We realize your concerns, but the boy is ready.”

  “His body is ready. God—” I run my fingers through my hair, shaking my head. “You people will stop at nothing. And if you want Laticus, why are you asking me?”

  This time it’s Rain who speaks.

  “Laticus was the first male born in the Regions. Our protocol was not completely in place when he was born. Your name is on his birth certificate,” she says.

  I remember signing the paper when they brought it to me, my hand shaking when I saw his name written in his mother’s handwriting as Laticus Donahue. At the time, I’d been surprised that she’d given him my name.

  “And his mother? Her name is on the certificate.”

  “As you recall, Folsom, his mother was a lottery winner. She signed her rights to Laticus over to us before he was conceived. It is part of their arrangement. You, on the other hand, did not.”

  “You stripped a mother of her young son, took a boy from his mother all because in her desperation not to starve and to have a child of her own, she signed his life over to you?”

  None of them say anything. But, I know. The pool of lottery winners come from the lower class, people who work long hours in service jobs. If they become pregnant after winning the lottery their whole life changes: money, a home, food—and they never have to work again. They sign their rights over willingly because they are accustomed to thinking about their lives in terms of tomorrow, not years into the future.

  I sit back in my chair staring at each of them in turn. If what I am hearing is right, they cannot place Laticus in the End Men without my permission until he is eighteen.

  “And my other sons?” I ask.

  “The other boys were not born to lottery winners,” Milly replies. “Their mothers will lose legal rights over the boys when they reach the age of eighteen.”

  For each of the male children, there had been a packet sent to me via courier. I remember signing what they asked without thinking too much about it.

  “We need you to sign the release for Laticus,” Rain says. She looks down at the paper sitting on the table in front of me as if she’s prompting me to pick up the pen.

  “No.” I stand up and all of their eyes follow my movement. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

  And with that, I walk out.

  SIXTEEN

  GWEN

  The next morning I leave the news station, blood pumping. My interview, the public announcement of Folsom’s sixth son, is now playing on a loop on every station across the Regions. My hands are still shaking as I make my way across the parking lot toward my car. The fact that we were live was terrifying; all of those people watching me…I was terrified that I’d stumble over my words and say something stupid, but all had gone fine and now I’m on my way home. My feet ache, and I miss Folsom. If the Society had their way at his meeting this morning, I won’t be able to pop in and see him anymore, and the thought of that is crushing.

  I pull into our long drive and hope that everyone is out, but by the time I reach the house and see the rows and rows of cars I know I’m in for a long day. I’m not in the mood for company. I go in the back entrance and nearly run Phoebe over.

  “Oh good, you’re here.” She looks so relieved, I move toward her.

  “What’s going on?”

  She looks me over, assessing my wrinkled shirt and pants. “You need to go change into something nicer. You had to have seen the messages?”

  I check my Silverbook guiltily. I’ve ignored Sophia’s air messages and calls for weeks, only answering when it wasn’t Folsom-related, but I didn’t mean to ignore my mother. I didn’t realize the sound has been off all morning. There are three missed messages from her, the words angrily flying out into the air, each with more caps than the last one. If I’d known what she was planning, I probably would’ve ignored her longer and stayed out.

  I go up the back staircase and take a quick shower, avoiding getting my hair wet but scrubbing my face clean. I’ll put my hair up, I decide as I zip up my dress. I pile it up, pinning my out of control hair into semi-submission. I hesitate to put makeup back on and decide to add mascara at the last second. Once whatever this is ends, I’ll go to work and check on Laticus…and of course, dome six.

  I take the staircase near the dining room and try to quieten my heels as I walk on the hardwood. I hear voices, but at least it doesn’t sound like a massive party.

  The chatter dies down when I walk in, but then my mom claps and everyone else follows politely. There are pink and blue balloons and flowers swallowing up the room. Sophia is dressed in a pink floor-length gown. She cuts her eyes toward me and I see the resentment. I should be relieved she’s pregnant, but I’m the one with the boy and that will drive Sophia mad. She and her friends turn as one and stare at me until I feel the heat flood my face; one of them says something and they all throw back their heads and laugh. I swallow and make my way to her, stopping to hug my mother first then Governor Petite.

  When I reach Sophia, I clasp her hands. “Congratulations, Soph! Can you believe it? Two babies in our family. We are so fortunate.”

  She shakes her hands out of mine and lifts her glass of sparkling water in the air. “To my sister who always gets exactly what she wants.”

  Her friends surround us and I back away, moving to sit at the table. Langley follows me and sits down, pulling her long red hair to one side. She’s had it out for me since we were little girls vying for Sophia’s attention. Out of all of Sophia’s friends, she’s the hardest for me to tolerate, but they’re all vipers.

  “Gwen,” she purrs. “A boy, how exciting.”

  I nod, forcing a smile onto my face. I’ve heard through the grapevine that Langley has an appointment with Folsom. The thought of her touching him makes me recoil in disgust. I have to wipe the im
age from my mind before I can look at her again.

  “Sophia says you’ve been taking care of Folsom all these weeks. Is he…is it anything serious?”

  “He nearly died,” I say. “So yes, rather serious.”

  Her lips fold into a sulky pout and she shakes her head sadly. “Terrible. Do they know…?”

  “He had a heart attack,” I say, not caring who she tells. Everyone should know. Folsom was being worked to death and it was our fault.

  Langley gasps and clutches at the giant sapphire necklace that hangs between her breasts.

  For a moment I think her concern could be sincere, but then she runs her eyes from my feet to my face, her distaste evident on her perfectly sculpted face.

  “Just make sure he’s out of there by next Friday.” She leans into my ear. “We have an appointment and I’m going to fuck you right out of his system.”

  “That didn’t even make sense,” I tell her, standing up. I bump into someone and turn around, eyes wide. “So sorry, Governor Petite. I didn’t realize you were there.”

  “It’s okay, no worries.” She laughs. “And enough with the formalities. For someone about to become my daughter, I insist you at least start calling me Pandora. We won’t rush the ‘Mom’ title.” She winks before smoothing back a curl that has fallen into my eye.

  My mouth falls open. I glance around the room for my mother.

  “Oh no, did I let it out before Diana could tell you? I’ve asked your mother to marry me.”

  I swallow and attempt a smile. “Congratulations.”

  “You’re the one who needs the sentiment. A boy!” She puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “He will be the salvation of his generation, the salvation of many generations. It is such a great honor. Born here to us in the Red.”

  I feel my stomach turn with her words and put my hand over my mouth. When she realizes I’m going to be sick, she backs up and I run past.

  I barely make it to the bathroom and bend over the toilet, heaving up everything I’ve eaten in the last day—which isn’t much. My mom comes rushing behind me and rubs my back. When I finally stand up, she hands me a cool washcloth and I wipe it across my forehead.

  “This was too much for you to come home to,” she says. “I’ve barely seen you and just wanted to celebrate your big news…and Sophia’s,” she adds, smiling. “Getting sick already?”

  “This is the first time and maybe it’s…I don’t know, nerves or something.” I pin a few strands of hair back and look at her. “When were you going to tell me you’re getting married?” I attempt to sound joyful, but my mother knows me too well.

  She frowns. “Did Pandora say something? I specifically told her to let me share the news with you girls first.”

  “Of course she said something. She came at me like she couldn’t wait to spill the news. Is this what you want, Mother?” I lean against the vanity and face her. “You love her?”

  “Sometimes we have to look at the bigger picture, sweetheart. I’m doing what I need to do for this family. And yes, I think in time I will love her. Romance is a thing of the past anyway,” she says softly.

  I reach over and hug her and we stand that way for a long time, until I lean back and look into her eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Gwen?” she whispers. “This should be the happiest day of your life.”

  “My son, Mother,” I say, resting a hand on my belly. “They’re going to take him from me eventually. I’ve seen what they’re forcing Folsom to do, how they treat him like he’s not a human, he’s a commodity.” I want to tell her about Laticus too, but there’s a rap on the door and we both jump.

  “Everything okay in there?” Governor Petite calls through the door.

  I jump back, startled. My mom runs her hand over my cheek, concerned, and I smile.

  “Better now,” I say loudly.

  “It isn’t the way things used to be,” she says sadly. “But it’s the way it is now. Men serve their country in a different way, and it’s their honor to do so.”

  I shake my head. “Have we ever asked them how they feel about it?”

  “Shh.” She glances behind her at the door.

  A shadow moves across the bottom and I wonder if the governor is eavesdropping. That men are fulfilling their duty is something that’s been drilled into us for years. Ceremonies at the Garden of the Dead, where statues are erected in their honor, the parades, and video clips, books, classes at school—we are conditioned to believe things, and until I met Folsom I never questioned a single one of them.

  “We have to get back to the party,” my mother says. “You are, after all, the guest of honor.”

  “Let’s have a few more minutes, just us,” I whisper and lay my head on her shoulder.

  “I love you, sweetheart,” she says.

  We stand there like that long enough for me to feel vaguely human again. My mother has always been my strength.

  When we step out of the bathroom, the governor is leaning against the window. Something about her expression makes me halt in mid-step. She moves toward us and puts her arm around my shoulder, leading me toward the door.

  “Are you okay, dear?” Her face is the picture of supreme concern.

  I’m not used to her undivided attention. Usually she greets me then sweeps my mother away.

  “I’m much better,” I tell her. I look over my shoulder at my mother who nods and follows us.

  “You know I’ve been thinking, and especially after you were sick just now…with this baby boy coming, you really must do all you can to remain healthy, Gwen.” She squeezes me closer and I turn to look at her.

  “I’m fine, it was just—” I interrupt.

  “I know you are now, but you overdo it. Your mom has been so worried about your long hours. I can have a talk with your superiors at Genome Y and have them give you a paid leave of absence.”

  I shake my head. “No, no, that’s not—”

  “Really, I insist. We have to protect this boy, and that means looking out for you while you’re carrying him.” She smiles sweetly and gives my cheek a pat.

  I look at my mother, horrified, and my mother steps forward.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary just yet, Pandora…really,” she says.

  “Well, if you keep having these bouts of sickness, I’ll have to step in and make sure you follow a stricter regimen. We don’t want anything to happen…” She leans forward and the light hits her eyes, making them gleam.

  I feel a chill crawl down my spine and look at my mother. She’s smiling at the governor fondly, as if she’s grateful Governor Petite is looking after my best interests. I exhale and relax my shoulders. It’s been a long day and I’m getting paranoid.

  We walk into the party and my face is projected on the wall at the end of the room. Everyone’s watching, listening raptly as I spill my heart out on the Regional news. Governor Petite’s hand tightens on my shoulder and she leans into my ear, teeth gritted.

  “You pull a stunt like this again and I will make your mother’s world a living hell. You’re an embarrassment to the Region.” She pulls away and smiles at me like I’ve just said something precious and then she clears her throat and grabs a glass of champagne. “To Sophia and Gwen and the little miracles they’re carrying in their bodies! Sophia will bring another beauty into the Red Region, and Gwen will bring our salvation! We must never forget that the End Men have willingly committed their lives for the good of the people, forgoing themselves at any and all cost. We can never allow ourselves to lose sight of their sacrifice.”

  She looks at me: her eyes hard and lips in a tight line, and I look at my mother, wondering if I’ve unknowingly sealed her fate.

  SEVENTEEN

  FOLSOM

  The rain hits my face when I climb out of the car and make my way to my apartment. I’d crashed earlier before I could take a good look around.

  My security detail does a quick sweep of the place and then leaves me to it. Robin already briefed me on the car r
ide over. Tomorrow is twin sisters. They’ve already forgotten about the one-a-day rule and gave me a new supply of the little blue pills. I eye the bar. An unopened bottle of bourbon sits on the console, a rocks glass positioned next to it. I walk to the kitchen and peer inside the fridge instead, it’s stocked with all of the things I like to eat: greens for smoothies, fresh fruit, grilled chicken. Absently, I rub at my heart. I’ve been instructed to keep exercise to a minimum, nothing too strenuous—they suggested walking for now. Ten more weeks of living like my heart is going to stop working at any minute. Doctor Hunley suggested that for sex I stay on my back, let the women do the work. I’m fine with that; relieved I have a doctor’s note that allows me to underperform.

  I wander into the living room and turn on the Silverbook, sinking into the first chair I see. Gwen’s face fills the screen and then the camera pans out and I can tell that she’s on a stage, a podium in front of her. At first, I don’t know what’s happening, but then I remember: a press conference would be held to announce she’s carrying a boy.

  One of the head scientists from the Genome Y lab stands next to her, staring on proudly like she’s the one responsible for the baby. She introduces herself first.

  “I am Corinne Gonzalez, I am one of the lead scientists here at Genome Y. Today we very proudly confirm that one of our employees, Gwen Allison, is carrying Folsom’s sixth son, the first boy to be born to the Red Region. I’ll let Gwen take your questions…”

  Corinne steps aside and Gwen stands at the center of the podium as reporters shout out questions.

  “How do you feel?”

  She makes a face and I smile at the screen.

  “Good so far. No morning sickness yet.”

  “How far are you?” someone else calls out.

  “It’s still very early,” she says. “You won’t be seeing a belly for a while.”

  “Does Folsom know he’s going to be a father again?”

  Gwen nods, her lips curling into a sexy smile. “He does. He’s very happy for the Red Region.”