by K. A. Gandy
I spot a bruised and battered—but still breathing—Brock, slung between a couple of men towards the back of the group.
“Y’all are behaving like a bunch of ill-mannered hooligans! Is this what you want to go down as the end of the Resistance? Because I sure as hell don’t. Now, y’all hand that man over so he can be tried in a court of law. Settle yourselves, and figure out who gone’ clean up this mess he done made. If y’all want a chance to govern yourselves, you best act like you got common sense.” She gives them all a stare down that would make Mama Taylor proud, before turning and nodding to the four of us, clustered at the back of the stage.
We watch as Brock is reluctantly delivered to the stage, where Atlas cuffs him, and loads him into Mav’s helicopter for transport. Groups begin to break up, as factions already start posturing for who should be the next leader. Looking over my shoulder, fully half of the prior leadership have vanished, while the rest are dispersed in the crowd campaigning to take on the vacated role.
We are about to board the helicopter ourselves when a shout draws our attention.
“Wait, all of you!” The petite spitfire who used to be our neighbor jogs over, hair wild in the chopper’s down-draft.
“Halle!” I shout back in surprise, before crossing to give her a hug, Nell hot on my heels. The three of us exchange a quick embrace, and then stay huddled close to hear her over the noise.
“What’s going to happen to the Resistance? If Patrick is here to arrest Brock, the NAA knows about us, and our location. Do we need to evacuate?” She levels me with a frank stare, and I look back over my shoulder at Patrick, where he’s strapping himself into the chopper.
“No, elect a fair leader, and give us a call. We want all of our citizens to be free.”
Relief floods her features, and I feel her shoulders sag beneath my arm. “Thank you, Sadie. I’ll make sure it happens.” With one final squeeze, she jogs back out from under the blades, and we board the chopper.
“What did she want?” Patrick yells.
“To know if we were going to wipe them out.”
He shakes his head sadly. “I hate that they’re afraid of that. Hopefully they’ll figure it out, and we never have to step in.”
I don’t respond, instead looking out the window as we slowly hover away from the earth, gaining altitude quickly. Our last view before making the final turn and flying away is of Halle behind the podium, giving orders. I think they’ll be just fine.
Epilogue—Unraveled
It took months to undo the evil that was perpetrated under Patrick’s father’s nose. We were able to wake and find family or provide homes for ninety percent of the women who were formerly captive. Brock is behind bars, serving a life sentence. The remaining ten percent are receiving the best care our scientists can provide them, and moved to the medical facilities closest to their families. Children are being reunited with biological mothers they didn’t get a chance to know, and all of the births in the last five months have been to mothers who were awake, and of sound mind. The further we dug, the more corruption we found and had to root out. Frankly, I’m not sure it’s all gone yet, but I know we’ll never stop searching, and never stop fighting for the freedom of our people. I let out a tired groan as a large white medical hov-truck slowly makes its way down the hospital drive, loaded with the last six women being returned to their hometowns.
“Well, that’s the last woman, finally going home,” Patrick says, voice tired but with a note of satisfaction.
I don’t share his sense of a job well done. “Yes, but so many of them are just being moved to new facilities until we figure out how to wake them. It feels like failure, Patrick.” The defeat and regret in my tone are clear, even to my own ears. I cautiously lower myself down onto the concrete step at the back of the hospital. My belly is huge and moving anywhere takes some time.
Patrick drops down next to me, and slips his arm around my shoulders, pulling me gently to his side. He plants a kiss on the top of my head, and I can’t help but smile. Some things never change.
“That’s no way to look at it, Sadie. It’s not perfect, but I’m still calling what we’ve accomplished a win. We aren’t going to give up until every last woman is awake, or her family is ready to let go.” His other hand comes around, and gently lifts my chin, so I’m eye to eye with him. “I promise.”
I give him a quick peck on the lips. “I know, we’re doing everything we can. And you’re right, it is great. It’s . . . overwhelming.” Messages from the other women, the families, even the older children grateful to be reunited with their loved ones are pouring in daily. My mind replays our tearful reunion with Josephine, and how great it felt to wrap her in a huge bear hug and have her hug us right back. She was angry about what had been done to her, but she was awake to be angry, and she would take the time she needed to process. They all would.
“It is, but we’re not alone. The doctors are doing their best, and I got word from Zanetti this morning, that their scientists have a moss that grows there that they use as an anti-paralytic that they think could lead to something useful.”
Hope blossoms in my heart, but another problem rears its ugly head. “That’s amazing, but we still have to deal with the cabals getting bolder and trying to snatch women in broad daylight . . .”
“Atlas and Nell are on it, Sadie. They won’t stop hunting until the cabals are dealt with, one way or another.” His voice is full of confidence.
It would have to do, for now. “So, what now?” I ask, staring out at the setting sun on the pine trees.
He hums happily. “Now, we go home.”
I groan. “Patrick, the shoebox of an apartment we’re staying in here is not home. Don’t insult the word home by applying it to that sad, tan place. But yes, we can go back to the apartment,” I agree tiredly, and push to my feet.
“I agree, which is why we’re not going back to the apartment tonight. We’re all packed. We’re going home.”
My jaw drops in surprise. “Home, like . . . where? Where do we even live now, Patrick, if we’re not going from tri-state to tri-state, overseeing the wake ups and helping the women transition back to normal life?”
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.” He crooks a finger at me, a mischievous grin plastered on his handsome face. We climb into our NAA-issued hov-car, and Patrick gives the driver a nod. Not a word passes between them, but he pulls out of the hospital drive, and takes the first interstate due south.
We’re going home.
Bonus Epilogue
Some time later
Patrick’s face appears on my comm device, startling me from my thoughts, and the tray of brownies I was about to put into the oven. “Oh, hey, hon. How are things going there?”
He smiles. “Good, just calling to give you a report from today’s meetings.” He runs a hand through his hair, which is long enough to brush the collar of his shirt. He grows it longer now, and it suits him. The first hints of gray have started to add some salt to his dark locks, and he looks even better than the day we first met. The crown is a heavy responsibility, but he wears it well since his father stepped down a few years ago.
“Great, lay it on me.”
“Well, construction on the last train station in the Alaska Territories is on schedule to be completed next month, so the NLC there will be open for business within four to six months, right on time.”
“Always good to hear.”
“Yes, my thoughts exactly. The new expansions on the Bachelor Book have gone over like gangbusters, and our match rate is through the roof with Glitch at the helm. The tri-states with fully operational electric trains since last year are seeing thirty percent growth on matches, and have a fifteen percent higher birth rate than the old system, already.”
At that, I can’t suppress my grin. “So, we held steady this year?” I prod for the number that’s most important.
“I’m proud to announce that our population grew one percent over last year’s numbers.”
To facilitate more successful matches, the NLCs are all open and operational, on a “schedule your own time” basis. Any couple that wants to meet can take the nearest NAA train to a predetermined NLC, and spend as much or as little time together as they’d like. If they hit it off, they can be married, and receive any fertility assistance they require in house, no matter their fertility rating. If needed, egg and sperm donations are available to help them conceive when they’re ready. So far, the public has received the changes incredibly well.
“That’s exactly why your popularity ratings are through the roof, my love,” I say in a sing-song voice.
“That’s why our popularity ratings are through the roof,” he corrects me.
“Fine, ours. When are you heading home?” I ask, propping my hip on the oven handle.
“Mav says we can leave in about an hour. I’ll be in late, though. So don't wait up. You need your rest.” He gives me his best stern tone, but he knows I’ll be up waiting for him, just like I am any time he’s called away to the capitol without me.
“Sure, dear.” I wink.
“Impossible woman—it’s a good thing I’m in love with you.”
“Yes, it is. See you soon.”
✽✽✽
A kick to my spleen wakes me with a start. With a groan, I roll to my side, placing a hand on my swollen belly. “Okay, okay, I’m getting up. Your temper is going to drive me crazy, isn’t it, PJ?” I rub my hand affectionately over the bump, anticipating my little one’s arrival any time in the next few weeks. As I climb to my feet, happy screeches filter through our closed bedroom door, and I smile. The sound of running feet coalesce at my doorway, and Patrick’s voice calls them back from the other room. Bless him for trying to let me get some sleep.
After taking care of my morning routine, I walk barefooted out of our bedroom, the burnished pine floors smooth underfoot. My brothers poured a lot of love into this home for us. Sun filters through the windows that line the entire back of the house floor to ceiling, overlooking the pasture where Morgan grazes, although currently he’s lazing at the fence line, nosing around for treats dropped from small fingers. I enter the kitchen and find a cup of cocoa, warm and waiting for me. Grabbing it with grateful fingers, I take small sips as I make my way out and onto the back porch.
Hovering in the doorway, I see all of my loves in one room. Patrick is giving Penelope a piggy-back ride around the perimeter of the porch. Her short black pig-tails bounce as he runs, and her giggles hang in the air like magic. Growing tired of the game, she demands to be put down, and he obliges. You don’t argue with a two-year-old, even if you are king of the NAA.
Jacqueline, our oldest girl sits across a checkerboard from our son and middle child, Zane. “That’s just not how it works, Zane. You can’t skip two without touching a space in between.”
Zane pouts, sticking his lip far enough out to land an airplane on. “I don’t like this game.”
Jacqueline, already diplomatic for her age, bargains with him. “Finish this round and you can choose the next two games.”
He perks up and moves the offending piece back where it was before. I smile, and Patrick catches my gaze from across the way. He walks over, and plants a lingering kiss on my lips. His hands on my hips hold me close, and then navigate around to my belly as he bends down to speak to our newest addition.
“PJ, are you ready to come out yet? Mama’s hogging you,” he whispers conspiratorially.
I snort in response. “It’s not hogging him, I’m growing him.” We have had this argument the last month of every pregnancy.
“I know, I’m extra excited, since you finally let me name one after myself.” He grins ear to ear while continuing to rub my belly, and I groan.
“I’m regretting that decision. Maybe we’ll name him Paul. Pierre? Percy!” I tease, and he waggles his eyebrows at me.
“Nice try, Queen Sadie. But I’m not falling for that one. You’re far too honest. This baby is Patrick Junior.” He smacks another happy kiss on my cheek.
Queen Sadie. That took a long time to get used to, but in the end, it was my decision to accept it. Patrick was made to rule, and there’s no one I trust more to ensure our family’s safety than ourselves. So, we assumed the role when his father stepped down after Jacqueline’s first birthday. It wasn’t as much time as we’d planned, but he was ready to leave the spotlight after “The Deb Debacle” was in headlines daily for months. Patrick’s mother was still serving her treason sentence on house arrest, in a separate estate from his father’s current residence. It pained him, but they were adults. They had to work out their issues—or not—as they saw fit.
The kids spot us and run over, nearly taking me out from the waist down with their enthusiasm. “Mama, Mama! Up, up!” Penelope clenches her hands at me in anticipation, and I lean down to pick her up, and then settle her on my hip. Patrick takes my now-empty cocoa mug so I have two hands free to snuggle her. Jacqueline and Zane are right back to their checkers game, after the brief greeting. They grow up way too fast.
A knock on the front door interrupts our quiet moment, and Patrick pats me on the shoulder as he walks by. “I’ll get it. Your mom’s bringing the food for family lunch.”
“Jacqueline, Zane! Granny and Papa are here with lunch! Why don’t you go help them carry it?” I urge, and they skitter past me.
I hear Mav call out from somewhere behind me in the house, “Where are those delicious children! Nom, nom, nom!”
Squeals—of delight, and terror—ensue as they run from her scariest troll voice. “Mimi, stop! Did you bring us anything?”
She sighs. “Of course, you rotten things. Come see Mimi for your gifts.”
I shake my head at their antics, but don’t interfere as I walk past them to the dining room. She loves bringing them treasures from all over the globe, in her role as Captain of the NAA Airforce. I’m pretty sure that’s why she volunteers to bring Patrick home every month from the capitol. When the kids are older, we’ll all go with him on his monthly journeys, but for now, we want them to grow up slowly, and out of the spotlight.
“Your parents are here, all the brothers and nieces and nephews,” Patrick murmurs as I join him in the doorway, and he takes Penelope off my hip. “It’s a full house today.”
I give him a warm smile before responding, “Just how we like it.”
“Just how we like it,” he agrees.
Easter Eggs
Hey Readers, thank you so much for spending your time with me on this journey with Patrick and Sadie through the Populations Crumble trilogy. They had quite a few ups and downs, and so did I, as this is the first series I’ve ever written and published. I thought you might enjoy a few tidbits about the stories, and a peek behind the curtain, if you will.
Jackson Flats is loosely based on the actual geographic location of Jacksonville, Florida. The area descriptions are fairly accurate to the more rural areas, and the pines and palms are native Florida flora.
My dad was a horseman growing up, in a poor family where you grew most of your own food, and worked hard every day to make a better life. He had a permanent scar on one lip where his childhood pony ran him under his mother’s clothes line, and snatched him from his back. Eventually, he grew up and married and moved on, but the horse bug bit me early in life. I grew up listening to his stories of horsemanship, and one of his favorite books that
I in turn read was Justin Morgan Had a Horse by Marguerite Henry. After years of pleading, my parents finally succumbed and bought me my very own horse, a beautiful bay mare named Desi. For Sadie’s best horse friend, there was no other name I could choose but Morgan. The scenes involving horses were all based on my own experience of nearly ten years of horsemanship.
The house number 1712 assigned to Sadie and the crew in the Resistance compound is the same number as the townhouse Dustin and I bought as newlyweds.
Zanetti is a real mountain, located in the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve in Alaska, USA. My husband and I visited Alaska in 2016, and the place is a beautiful blend of native and western cultures. We were particularly awed in our wanderings by the beautiful creations and rich history of the Tlingit people, which is where I drew a spark of inspiration. However, the People of Zanetti and their home under the mountain are a work of my imagination, and not representative of any particular group’s customs or lore.
There are many other small tidbits and pieces of me tucked into the story, but I’ll leave the rest to your own imagination. If you’ve loved the journey, your review would mean the world to me. As a new author, I read every single one and cherish your kind words.
Love and Books,
K. A. Gandy
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Books By This Author
Dwindle (Populations Crumble, Book 1)
Torn from her home and family. Forced to marry a genetically matched stranger. Will she find love, or destruction?
Rise (Populations Crumble, Book 2)
The man she thought she knew truly is a stranger. Swept away on their honeymoon, the stakes have never been higher. Will his identity be their undoing, or will they rise together?