by Jill Cooper
She couldn’t still her breathing.
She couldn’t stop her heart from running away.
The low hum of her harness kicked in. Jenna took a deep breath, smelling the sweet coolness of the drugs that regulated her mood. She moaned slowly, lifting her head. Her vision doubled and Jenna’s fingers played with the doorknob. With a deft twist, she threw the door open and it slammed against the bedroom door.
A shot fired.
Jenna screamed, covered her ears, and crouched to her knees, with lightening reflexes as soon as she heard the shot.
Inside the room, glass shattered. Down below, something hit the pavement hard.
Who was in there with her? Jenna’s hands were shaking as she lowered them to the ground and crawled in the bedroom. Everything in her said to stay put, run downstairs, but she kept going. Jenna couldn’t stop. She needed to know what happened—needed.
Inside, the bedspread was tossed like someone was in a rush, which wasn’t like Suzanne at all.
Jenna crawled to the window and pulled herself up. She had to will herself to look. One trembling hand gripped the window-sill, while the other covered her mouth. Outside by the pool, laid the twisted body of Franklin; stark naked and his head concaved from the impact of the cement.
Vomit rose in her throat and she wretched. Outside, the sound of Suzanne’s screams were punctuated by the sound of police sirens.
New Haven was coming, and they were no friends of hers.
Glistening suicides were up. Why were they up?
The harnesses were supposed to be a fail switch, nothing more.
“What?” Jenna asked aloud, her face contorting with confusion and questions. She had never said those things, but now in her head, they were on a loop—in her own voice.
So where was it coming from?
Chapter Four Jenna
“Can I take my wife home?” Jameson asked the New Haven officers clustered around the living room. Meanwhile, Jenna sat on the sofa, her trembling hands holding a cup of tea.
The officer sighed and rubbed his face. “She’s a key witness, Mr. Jameson.”
“And,” his voice was stronger, forceful; in a way, a glistening would never be to a NH officer. “She’s told you her story for the last half-hour. She’s scared, tired, and pregnant. Her baby is of the utmost importance, isn’t it?”
The officer nodded. “She can go, but if we come up with any more questions . . .”
“You know where to find us,” Jameson sneered, before he stood and walked to his wife. Wife, just the idea that the piece of fine pregnant ass, Jenna, was his wife, enthralled and terrified him.
He had fantasized about her more than once when she was engaged to Dirk, his best friend, but then they were a team. Now they were fractured and on opposite sides. Jenna was a monster, plain and simple. She was the enemy and needed to be manipulated, controlled.
It didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun along the way.
And baby, it was all fun. Finally, he was the one wearing pants in the relationship. Jameson was in control, not Jenna. All those times she berated him, wielded her power over him, sure he enjoyed it more, at first. Now, essentially, they were a couple. Jameson never lost sight of the fact she was a monster, but that didn’t mean when Jenna came at him like a horny housewife he ever turned her away.
He had to sell her on their relationship and it hadn’t been hard. She was fine, even when pregnant. Jameson saw firsthand, what Dirk found so seductive about her. And now she was his, whether she wanted to be or not.
“Baby,” Jameson rubbed Jenna’s knee. “I can take you home now. Okay?”
Jenna nodded and her chin trembled in a way he never saw before they moved into New Have 57. Jameson smoothed her hair back. Keeping her calm and relaxed were the doctor’s orders. The baby’s health was critical to the mission.
“I need to find Suzanne, and say good-bye . . .”
“You can find her tomorrow. Right now, we have to get you home and to bed.”
“It’s still early . . .” Jenna’s voice trailed off and the light on her harness glowed in the darkness. Her chest rose with a deep breath and Jameson’s eyes undressed her. “I guess you’re right. The baby needs me more.”
Jameson grinned and covered her hands with his. “That’s right. So let’s go home. I’ll rub your feet, make your favorite snack.”
“You’re so good to me.” Jenna took his hands when she stood.
“I’m your husband. Of course I am.” He put his arm around her shoulder and escorted her out to the car. On the drive home, the sun was setting against the backdrop of the New Haven bubble. Orange and red streaked across the night sky. Its beauty couldn’t be matched. The profile of the woman beside him was more graceful and beautiful, than anything nature could throw his way.
Looking over at her, he saw that her mind was at work. He needed to distract her, get her mind on something else.
Jameson had just the idea.
****
Jenna’s feet were propped up on the bed and her hands folded on her baby belly. The television in the corner of the room flickered lights across her face. But she was zoned out, her eyes unfocused, replaying the images of what had happened that afternoon in her head.
This was the perfect time to interrupt her. Clearing his throat, he knocked on the bedroom door, before pushing it open further. Plastering on his biggest smile, he carried in a small plate of cheese and crackers, designed exclusively for her by the NHI. Vitamins, proteins, and a hint of mind-altering drugs were used to keep her placid, calm. The harness should’ve been enough, but with Jenna, it was better to be safe than sorry.
The final change, a rose, lay across the blue, swirl plate, should seal the deal.
Her head swayed to the side at the noise. “What’s this?” she asked with suspicion.
It was a look, he had seen before; a fire lit behind her eyes. “Just a little snack to help you feel better.” Jameson placed the tray across her lap, picked up a grape, and held it out for her to inspect.
“Rick . . .”
“Just eat,” Jameson dropped his voice, “for me.”
She opened her mouth and took it from him. Her tongue, for a brief moment, curled around his finger and sucked it off. Jenna was so comfortable with him, so believing of the lies she was fed; it gave Jameson a surge of satisfaction.
“That’s my girl.” The corners of his lips curled up in a smile. He rested his hand on the top of her head and sat. They lingered in comfortable silence while she munched on crackers. Jameson massaged her shoulders and nuzzled her cheek.
“Feel better?”
A sigh lingered, but then Jenna nodded and put her cracker down. “You always have a way of making me feel better.” Her fingers caressed his hand in long strokes, palm to palm they finally settled. Their fingers fell in sweet union and clasped tight around each other.
Jenna had tears in her eyes. Jameson leaned in, his bony nose against her cheek. “Let me wipe away your tears.”
The front of her harness lit up and a gasp of air emitted. Her eyes closed in tranquil bliss as a wave of medicine flooded her cerebral cortex. Jameson made his move. His lips toyed with hers, giving her the softest of kisses.
He waited for a move. A response.
It was like watching the ticking of a clock and mere seconds were like minutes.
But finally, it happened. Her soft and supple lips took his mouth. Slow at first, but as his hand crept up her leg, beneath the hem of her dress, Jenna’s kiss turned frantic. The passion and rage hidden inside her, found its escape route and it came out as unbridled desire for him.
What would pal, Dirk, think about that? Jameson caressed the smooth curve of her jaw in one hand. His eyes popped open and he took in her porcelain, doll-like face—perfect skin, gorgeous perfection. There were no lines or wrinkles, like she was cast in stone, and until the end; Jenna would always remain the same.
She would look serene, gorgeous, and unwavering.
; But a monster hid beneath those closed lids, just waiting to awaken.
“Baby,” he murmured against her skin. His fingers coasted along to her back and glided her zipper down with a slow, steady movement. His rough hands caressed her lower back. With the baby coming, Jenna’s skin was thicker, softer, and her skin glowed.
Her arms went above her head and Jameson lifted her dress, tossing it into the corner of the room. Jenna tussled her hair, freeing it from the pins. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
Jameson’s finger tangled in Jenna’s hair and pulled her in, forcing their mouths together in hot unison. “I’m so glad you are all right.” His hands caressed her, melding against her skin and rolled himself onto his back.
Naughty and delightful, Jenna bit her lip and undid his belt. “Are you ready?” The words rolled off her tongue in a sultry, sweet way. She straddled him, her shoes still on.
Her red curls fell in front of her eye and Jenna watched him, waiting for something. Jameson caressed her baby belly—wider now than ever and getting closer to full term for a glistening. That baby might have been Dirk’s but Jenna was his now.
All his, and that baby was going to be the answer to everything—solve all the world’s problems for humans.
Neuter the baby. Neuter the population of . Sounded like a fair trade to Jameson.
“I love you.” Jameson’s eyes claimed hers. He had to let her think it was true. Have his eyes watch her, devour her, in love. Maybe it was an act. Maybe it was just for the game of revenge, to get back at her for the time he spent in prison. For all the times Jenna embarrassed him in front of a crowd.
Nevertheless, right then, when Jenna grabbed him and the passion enveloped both of them, it was real. Jameson felt it as he held her, when he gazed into her eyes, even if one day, it would be his neck on the line. They moved in time, like a real couple, a partnership.
In his stillness, he listened to her breathing. The sound of her breath’s quickening, the way she would suck them in. His eyes open, he watched as Jenna rolled her head back. His hands danced over her growing belly and her plump little breasts. He flattened them against her chest and for a brief moment, Jenna’s teeth chattered with pleasure.
Jameson slapped her ass, driving her further forward, so they could hungrily go at each other. He loved dangerous sports and this was as dangerous as it came.
To keep a wild animal captive—own her. Even if Jameson saw how beautiful she was, so majestic, she was still an animal with fangs and claws.
In the end, he’d be burned. In the end, he’d most likely be dead.
*****
Nighttime brought no solace to Jenna Morgan.
At night, she was fitful. Frightening images slipped through her semi-lucid mind. She gripped the sheets around her. Her head tossed back and forth, as she tried to escape the flames burning all around her.
Jenna was trapped on top of a building, taller than any she had ever seen. And her clothes weren’t hers at all. She wore pants of all things. Navy blue ones that matched her top. In her hand was a gun.
A gun.
It made her heart pound in fear as the flames encircled, closer to taking her captive forever.
Jenna scooted back on her knees as far as she could. Off in the distance, a door slammed open. Her rescuer was here. Finally.
But she couldn’t see his face. All she saw was his burning silhouette. Was it Jameson? No, the hair was wrong. It was stuck up funny. Messy.
Jenna took a deep gasp of breath and bolted upright in bed. Her hand clenched at her heart. Eyes wide, her mouth opened and she screamed a shaking name that only existed anymore, deep in her heart.
“Dirk!”
Jameson sat up beside her and smoothed her hair back. Jenna’s chest heaved for air. “What’d you say, baby? You okay?”
Jenna shook her head, but couldn’t speak again. The nightmare began to drift further and further away, but she didn’t want it to. Her pulse raced and sweat clung to her brow. The harness on her neck beeped and a mist of air emitted from it.
No. No. Jenna didn’t want it to work. She wanted to remember. She wanted to feel. She didn’t want to forget.
A sense of calm washed over her. Jenna closed her eyes and moaned. Happiness cascaded over her like ocean waves cascading over a rock. Jameson laid her back down and wrapped the comforter around her.
“Go to sleep,” Jameson whispered, stroking her hair back gently. It was comforting; Jenna was glad she had him to take care of her. “Good night, dear, Jenna.”
He lay back down and Jenna’s eyes opened to read the clock. It always happened right after three am. What was so important about three am?
And more importantly, who was Dirk?
Chapter Five Dirk
Hidden Naval Shipyard
Eastern New American Order
All through the night, the ground shook, pelted by fire while the glistenings searched for the hidden entrance to their lair. The monsters had tracked them down at last, most likely thanks to their less than stealthy escape from the city yesterday.
That was on Dirk and his bad decision to go after a bunch of kids being used bait. Now they had to move or they would be captured, or worse, but maybe the answer was in the setup Dirk had fallen for. Maybe they needed a set of decoys to lead the glistenings away, so the kids could remain hidden a little bit longer.
Dirk’s bag was packed. Ready to go, he stashed some spare ammo inside his duffle, his resolve was strong. It was nearly time to move and get on with his plan. There were people he needed to talk to. Things needed to be done, but he wouldn’t leave until his questions about Rebecca were answered.
He wouldn’t leave her among the remaining resistance with so many things still up in the air. Bringing her with him? Maybe. But Dirk wasn’t fond of being stabbed in the back. He didn’t know what Rebecca’s game was, but she was up to something. Dirk just had to find out what and soon. Too much time had passed.
He ticked the days off in his head. If Jenna were still alive, she’d be having the baby soon and if it happened while in New Haven custody . . . she had always been fast and resourceful. If they managed to keep her captive that long, which meant—hell, Dirk didn’t want to think about what that meant.
Dirk loaded his gun and slid it into the rear pocket of his jeans. His jacket covered it up nicely as he headed toward the mess to grab some food, when Jeff, Jake’s dad, stepped from an adjoining corridor.
“Jeff, everything okay?”
The glistening had seen better days. He was unshaven, his eyes bloodshot. As far as glistenings went, Dirk was fond of Jeff, but it was clear from the twitchy way in which he moved, something was wrong.
“Timothy died.” Jeff had trouble maintaining eye contact. “Most of the other kids are making great progress, but Timmy’s gone. He died early this morning.”
Dirk made a fist and sheer force of will kept him from slamming it into the wall. He knew—they all knew—not all the kids would make it, but Timothy, one of the youngest, the most naïve. This would be a big hit to the resistance’s morale.
A big hit to Dirk, and he didn’t want to think about what it would do to the woman who cared for Tim in his final days.
“Jake is attending . . . well, he’s making the final arrangements for Tim,” Jeff said softly.
Dirk nodded. “Is there something else?” Dirk finally asked, when he got the feeling Jeff wasn’t done yet.
He shrugged. “Just you know how kids talk sometimes and their tall tales. It might be normal kid stuff. If it is, I don’t want to worry you with it.”
Dirk held a long breath before letting it out. “Just let me have it, Jeff. Let me figure out if they’re making up stories or not.”
Jeff sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “A few of the kids were feeling better by the time Timothy was in trouble. Missy and Trace said—well, they said Rebecca was with Tim before he got worse. Missy thought she heard Tim crying.”
Dirk wiped the corners of his mouth. It was
n’t uncommon for Rebecca to visit the kids since the plague hit, hell before they were even sick. He had a feeling Jake didn’t make Rebecca feel very comfortable and children were her solace. It was the same for most of the adults, but for some reason, it left a bad taste in Dirk’s mouth. Rebecca didn’t exactly display motherly instincts. “If his health was in a state of decline, crying isn’t exactly a red flag.”
“Missy thought she heard Tim beg for water more than once.”
“Did Rebecca give him water?” Dirk asked.
Jeff was shaking and Dirk realized he had his chest puffed out. He had morphed into New Haven officer mode, questioning a subject without meaning to. Hell, the last thing Dirk felt like was a New Haven officer anymore. It was the last thing he wanted to be.
Dirk slapped Jeff on the back. “Relax, buddy. Sorry, I slipped back into old habits.”
Jeff’s face twitched with a half-smile. “Being an investigator isn’t a bad thing. I think we need one. Chase thinks Rebecca’s hiding something in her room.”
“Is there a secret meeting I wasn’t invited to?” Dirk asked with his hands on his hips.
Jeff went stone cold serious. Dirk really needed to stop joking around with him. He was held prisoner by Victor for a few weeks and Dirk thought maybe the results hadn’t completely faded away yet.
“Never mind.” Dirk waved his statement away. “Where’s Jake?”
“Commander’s office,” Jeff said.
****
The old commander’s office wasn’t much. Just a faded, wooden desk with rolled up maps covering the surface. On the walls, were old photographs of submarines, group photos of people long dead, even before the original glistening strikes, judging by the date on the bottom. In the corner, there was a metal filing cabinet with an old globe on top. How old? It was so old, Canada and the United States were separate countries, and even Mexico enjoyed some amount of freedom.
Freedom they were now desperate to get back.