Paradise Awakened Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  He sighs and puts his arms behind his head. "I don't hate him. I don't want him to treat you like he did your mother."

  Not this again. "Dad, that's gross. I don't want to think about him being with my mother."

  "Well, it happened when she was married to Blice too."

  Now that she didn't know. "What? She was married to Blice?"

  "Before he was a butterfly, of course."

  "Well, I don't care. I love Byron." Katarina says. She means it too.

  Isidore grabs the steering wheel again as anger fills his voice. "You don't love him."

  "Why do you think that? Because he's over twice my age?"

  "That's part of it. You are a young beautiful girl who could have anyone she wanted and you want to be with a nearly fifty year old man."

  "How can you be so cruel?" Katarina asks. "I don't care how old he is. He is the nicest man I've ever met."

  "And you're attracted to him why? He has nothing to offer you."

  She crosses her arms and stares out the window. "Neither do you."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Byron has been more of a father to me than you ever thought about being."

  "I've tried my hardest to give you and Dmitri the best life possible." Isidore says. "I wasn't prepared to be a father at your age. I did everything I could to keep you two safe and provided for. Tell me what I could have done better."

  "You could have loved me."

  His driving slows as he looks at her. "Do you truly believe that I don't love you? I have always loved you, Kat, from the moment I first held you in my arms and you smiled at me then wrapped your tiny hand around my finger and wouldn't let go. You were my world back then and you've never stopped being my everything. I would have died for you. I fought against a corrupt justice system in order for you to be alive and breathing right now. I was sentenced to death and faced a firing squad for you. I could have taken a plea deal, but I had to fight so you could have a better life, one where you wouldn't be tortured like I was. Everything I have done, I have done for you. If risking my life for you isn't love, then I don't know what is."

  It doesn't matter now. She might as well tell him about their plan. "We're getting married."

  "No, you aren't."

  "Byron asked me to marry him and I said yes."

  "No." Isidore says adamantly. "You can't marry your owner. It's inappropriate."

  "Why? Because your owner raped you?"

  "Shut up, Kat." He warns. "You don't know anything."

  "Just because you were too weak to tell him no doesn't mean that I'm like you. You deserved it." She gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. She didn't mean to say that out loud. Then she sees the one thing she thought was impossible and it completely shatters any lingering anger she has been feeling. Isidore is crying. She reaches out to him. "Dad-"

  "Leave me alone. Your brother, who isn't even my own flesh and blood, told me just this morning that he was happy to have a father like me and he was so concerned when I was gone. What do I get from you? Nothing. If you don't want to accept my love for you, if you believe that all the torture I endured was because I deserved it, then you're not my daughter any longer." He stops the car. "Get out. You can call Byron to come get you. I don't care anymore."

  What? No. "Dad, please."

  "I told you to get out."

  Katarina gets out of the car and shuts the door. "Where are you going?"

  He reaches into his pocket and takes some kind of pills. "If I'm that worthless that even my daughter views me as nothing better than a slave to be abused, then I don't deserve to live. Tell Blice I said goodbye."

  6

  It's past midnight when Isidore eventually returns home to the Presidential Palace and moves as quietly as he can to his bedroom, trying to not wake anyone up who would undoubtedly have many questions for him. Where has he been? Why are his eyes red? How many pills has he taken? It's all he'll hear about from them and he's not ready to face his mistakes again. The mark on the inside of his arm that has begun to bruise is a dead giveaway that he has been doing much more than just some recreational pills.

  He swore to himself that he would never touch that stuff again, but here he is with a syringe and half a vial of nanochems in his pocket. Isidore is falling apart and there's nothing he can do to pull himself out of this. He knew that if he fell again, he would hit the bottom hard. He stops in front of the mirror in the hallway. He's a mess. His silver hair is disheveled and tangled around his shoulders. His eyes are bloodshot and his skin is eerily pale. His lips are bleeding from him chewing on them habitually as he does when he takes these nanochems. They mess with him on so many levels by infiltrating his hardware and altering the way his brain perceives the world.

  Isidore wipes away the blood on the back of his hand before opening his bedroom door. He jumps when he sees Byron sitting at the small table and watching television, obviously waiting for him to get back. "Byron . . . what are you doing here?"

  "I need to talk to you about Katarina."

  Not this. Not now. He takes off his long black coat and sneakily hides the nanochems in his top dresser drawer beside his Bible that he hasn't opened in years.

  Blice flies over and lands on the dresser as he looks up at Isidore. "What's in the vial, Niko?"

  Okay, so maybe he wasn't so sneaky. "Nothing. Don't worry about it, Blice."

  "Is there something you need to tell me?"

  Isidore glances between Blice and Byron. His heart is racing as he begins to freak out. He knows that he is still coming off his high and he tries to do all he can to steady himself.

  Blice crawls up Isidore's arm. "I know that look. You look horrible. I'm going to ask you one question and I demand an answer as your owner. Are you doing nanochems?"

  Isidore nods his head in silent admittance.

  "Oh, Niko. How long?" Blice asks.

  "I was doing them a lot along with a bunch of different pills a few years back. I'd been clean for two years until today."

  "And you never told me? You know I could have helped you."

  Isidore scoffs. "How, Blice? You were never able to stop. Where do you think I learned this from? Remember, you programmed me to learn behaviors from you. Well, congratulations. I learned this."

  Byron stands and sighs. "It's my fault. If I hadn't been so involved with Katarina-"

  "It's not your fault." Isidore says. "It's not any one person's fault. If anything, it's mine. I know that. What do you need to talk to me about, Byron?"

  "Now's not the best time."

  "Please, I'm fine." Isidore grabs a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and sits down across from Byron. "Just go slow and I'll try to keep up."

  Byron looks to Blice for help, but Blice only goes back to his flowers. "I didn't get involved with Katarina in order to hurt you. She told me what she said to you. I did what I had to do with her."

  This sounds so unlike Byron. "Oh God. You didn't beat her, did you?"

  "You know as well as I do that she deserved it." Byron says as he grins. "Don't worry. I was gentle. It was more of reminding her where her place is and making sure she never speaks to you like that again. On behalf of my android, I apologize for her behavior."

  "You've grown into being an owner pretty well, you know? I'm glad. Thank you for taking care of her. Now I know you didn't stay up so you could tell me that."

  Byron picks at his fingernails nervously. "I want to marry Katarina. I wanted to ask you for her hand."

  Isidore takes a long drink from the bottle then tosses the empty plastic across the room and misses the trashcan. He missed? He never misses. "Why do you want her? Can't you find a woman?"

  "I'm kind of embarrassed to admit this, but I haven't been with a woman in close to twenty years."

  "Clara?"

  "She was the last one." Byron says.

  He studies his friend's face. "You're not joking, are you?"

  "No. I have watched Katarina grow up into a beautiful woman and
I've fallen hopelessly in love with her. She reminds me so much of-"

  "Who? Her dead mother? That's a little twisted, isn't it?"

  Byron holds his face in his hand as he coughs violently. After a few minutes and a bottle of water, he wipes the sweat from his face and is able to speak again. "I was going to say Leena, but whatever."

  "Well, you said that Clara reminded you of Leena as well. Leena is gone. Yes, what you two had was special, but she died a long time ago. Drop it already. You can't keep viewing every woman as if she was Leena. You're only going to end up hurting when you come to the painful but inevitable conclusion that she's not Leena."

  "How many times have I ever said I love a woman?"

  "Three. Leena, Clara, and now my daughter." Isidore says.

  "I've never said that I love someone if it wasn't true. You know that. Do you not believe me? What is it? Are you scared that I'll hurt her? Isidore, if I wanted to hurt her, I could have done it already. She belongs to me and I have all rights to do anything I want to her. If I haven't done it yet, what makes you think that I'd do it now?"

  "You have a point. It's just difficult for me to picture her with my friend."

  "Your friend?" Byron smiles. "Thanks, buddy."

  Well, if this is actually going to happen, Isidore has one stipulation. "Don't get her pregnant yet. Give her some time to mature and be comfortable with herself before she becomes a mother. I wasn't ready at her age and I don't want her to be tied down like that."

  "Isidore . . . that's not going to happen."

  "How can you be so sure? I want her on birth control."

  "You know they stopped making that after you freaked out about the population." Byron says. "But that doesn't matter. Listen to what I'm saying to you. Katarina will never get pregnant. I can't have children."

  This is news to him. "What? Why not?"

  "I have a war waging inside my body between destructive and regenerative nanobots. In order to regulate that, I have a radioactive piece of metal somewhere inside of me that is constantly giving off radiation. Apparently sperm don't like that. So, I'm infertile."

  "Byron . . ."

  He shrugs. "I just never was meant to be a father. God knows I wanted to be, but I've lost two children by two different women and now this. It wasn't meant to be. Maybe that's for the best, considering what the doctors said."

  That's never good. "What did they say? Don't hide this from me."

  "They gave me five years to live at the most. Said it's probably more like two. My organs are shutting down and there's nothing they can do to stop it."

  "What about getting artificial ones like me? It's not bad and I can't even tell most of the time."

  "I'm not like you, buddy." Byron says. "Humans were never meant to live forever. I'll leave near immortality to the androids. I'll take my death like I've taken everything else in life. I'll face it head on and power through it. There's no point in worrying about it. If it happens, it happens."

  Isidore reaches across the table and takes Byron's hand. "Why haven't you told me?"

  "I don't like feeling helpless. You've known me for twenty-two years. When have I ever been one to admit when I need help?"

  "I'm guessing you haven't told Kat?"

  "Not yet." Byron says.

  "So what? You're going to marry her then she'll be a widow before she's twenty-five?"

  "I'll leave that up to her. If she does choose to still marry me, I will make those few years I have with her the best of her life. She will be my entire world and she will never want for anything. She will be a princess and I will devote myself fully to her every second of every day."

  There is a soft knocking on the door as it creaks open and Katarina peaks inside. "Hey, guys. What's going on? It's late and I saw the light on."

  Isidore crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "Now's your time, Byron."

  Byron goes to her and takes her hands in his. "Katarina, I have some things to tell you. First, if you marry me, you can't have a baby. I can't have children."

  "That's okay." Katarina pushes his brown hair that is speckled with gray out of his eyes. "I love you and I don't need a child to be happy."

  Isidore clears his throat. "And the other thing."

  Byron takes a deep breath then coughs. "The other thing . . . the doctors have given me five years at most to live. I could die any day. I'll be fine and then I'll just collapse and stop breathing. It's been happening more and more lately. It happened yesterday and it was all they could do to get me breathing again. Even with Kazimir's nanobots, I am falling apart. Soon they won't be able to revive me. The nanobots are filling my lungs and they're eating away at me. I'm dying, Kat."

  Katarina lets go of Byron's hands and covers her face with her hands as she cries. Minutes pass in the silence before she wipes her eyes and holds Byron's face to her chest. "Then I guess we need to get married now so we can make every moment count."

  Byron turns to Isidore. "Would you?"

  "Now? Tonight? You want me to marry you two at one in the morning?"

  They both agree in unison.

  "Fine. You owe me, Erikson." Isidore ties back his messy hair and stands then takes both of their hands. "We're doing this the express way because I am very tired and grumpy and don't want to mess around with formalities."

  "Wait!" Blice shouts before fluttering over to Katarina and dropping a pink daisy in her hair. "There. It can't be a wedding without flowers. You're a beautiful bride, Nika."

  Katarina blushes as she clings to Byron's arm. "Thank you, Blice."

  Dmitri steps into the room and shakes his head. "Really? My sister is getting married and you don't think to include me?"

  "Sorry. It just kind of happened." Isidore says. "Come on in, son."

  "Awe, I've never seen a wedding before. You should get married, Dad." Dmitri says.

  "Nope. Never again. Now, let's get this going. Byron Erikson, do you take my daughter, Katarina Williams to be your wife?"

  "I do."

  Isidore squeezes Katarina's hand tightly as the tears fill his eyes. "Katarina Williams, do you take Byron Erikson to be your husband?"

  She wraps her arms around Byron as she breaks down crying. "I do."

  Isidore dries his eyes before continuing. "By my power as President of Paradise, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

  7

  Doss kneels down in front of the altar and closes his eyes as the priest says a blessing over him, asking for divine protection and clarity of judgment. He clasps the wooden crucifix that hangs around his neck on a simple leather cord in his hand and kisses it before standing and bowing one more time in front of the giant stained glass window. Today feels different and he must guard his soul against whatever is coming his way. As he leaves the small cathedral, he straps his holster on his right thigh for his Glock 17, two on his belt for his dual 9mm handguns, and one on his back for his Thompson submachine gun. Pulling on his gun holster around his shoulders, he checks to see that his laser pistols are there where they should be, right against his chest. He's just a little proud of them. He slides the switchblade in his pocket then pulls on his tan Inquisition trench coat. He slides the silver short sword into its sheath on his belt and stuffs the C4 charges into his deep pockets. Doss looks around for his microgrenades and finds them in the bottom of the box. They never allow these things in the sanctuary. That should be it. Oh, he nearly forgot to tithe. Before opening the large intricately carved wooden doors, he tosses one thousand dollars and six 9mm shell casings into the golden bowl. The money is for his income. The shell casings are for the men he's killed this week.

  He takes a deep breath as he steps outside and slides on his red sunglasses then looks around at the crowd of inquisitors who have obviously been waiting on him. "What?"

  One of the inquisitors steps forward and bows. "Sir, you've been summoned by our president for a meeting."

  "A meeting? It's Sunday."

  "He says it's urgent."


  He sighs. "Fine. Why the escort? I'm fairly sure I'll be able to find my way to the palace on my own."

  "There have been some . . . developments. It's for your own safety, sir. As Grand Inquisitor, you are a high priority target in times of unrest."

  "Unrest? You're making me wish for a drink."

  One of the younger inquisitors steps forward with a silver can in his hand. "I brought you a beer."

  Another inquisitor slaps him. "Didn't you hear him? It's Sunday."

  Doss laughs at them as he takes the beer and opens it. "Thanks. Let's go." The entire squad of inquisitors follows him down the street as they whisper between themselves. They must be intimidating because the citizens stop what they are doing and bow to him. Some wave, but most go back inside their homes or whatever buildings they were coming out of. Come on, he's not that scary. He's drinking a beer and wearing sunglasses. How much friendlier can a guy get? And the weapons? They only have to worry about those if they do something stupid.

  The young inquisitor who gave him the beer runs up beside him. "Sir, why do you carry around that sword? You do know that one shot from a laser pistol could eat it away and leave you with nothing, right?"

  "You must be a new recruit. Show me your insignia."

  The young man holds up the golden triangle.

  Doss counts the petals on the daisy in the middle. Five. This guy really is new. He smiles when he thinks of his own rank. Forty-eight petals. This guy will get here someday if he doesn't get vaporized or irradiated. It's a cruel and dangerous job, being an inquisitor. "Should you even be allowed to speak to me directly? When did you join the Inquisition?"

  "Two months ago, sir."

  "Well, I'll let you in on a little secret, Inquisitor-"

  "Connery." He says with a smile. "Alexander Connery."

  "Okay, Inquisitor Connery. What I choose to carry with me on a daily basis is first, none of your business and second, up to my discretion."

  "Daily basis? You carry all of this on your person every day?"

  Doss shrugs his shoulders and draws his sword. "Most days, only the days I don't feel like dying. Anyway, because you brought me a beer, I'll tell you all about it. This sword was passed down through many generations of my family and it has survived two apocalypses. I call it the Phoenix Blade."