by Sarah Noffke
“But I’m leading a war,” I argued. “And why isn’t he waiting for me like Young-chol is waiting for Soon-hee?”
An expression so wise and full of secrets whisked across her face. I knew then she wasn’t going to tell me exactly what she thought, only the portion she thought I’d hear. “Oh, Em, I don’t have the answers to all your questions. Every spirit, like every human, makes decisions based on the information they are blessed with. Rogue made the decision to move on. It meant he was happy, done. And knew he didn’t need to stay around to protect you. And he’s not waiting around for you for his own reasons. I knew little of Rogue Vider, but what I did know of him I could tell he was a man with a certain knowing. If he left then he had good reason.”
***
The front door slams shut, bringing my attention back to the present moment and out of the past, where I’ve spent too many months reflecting lately. I’m not living in the past anymore. It doesn’t serve me.
“Hi,” I squeak out, my voice strained from making speeches all day.
Parker stands by the door, looking unsurprised by finding me in his house. He’s holding a paper sack in one hand and in his other a crumpled tie. He slings the tie on the stairs as he saunters over to the table where I sit.
“Hungry?” he asks, holding up the bag. “I ordered double curry thinking you might be lurking in my house.”
My stomach rumbles as soon as the aroma of Thai curry hits my nose. “I’m starving actually,” I say. “And I’m lurking here because I needed to discuss the drug you’re crafting to replace the one currently being put into the water supply.”
For at least a decade Vider has been putting a happy pill in the Middling water supply. It’s why they all are euphoric and complacent even though they live in squalor and work too many hours in menial jobs they don’t choose. It’s this drug that we have to replace with a sugar pill. Something that has no effect on them. The drug has to look exactly the same as the current one so Vider doesn’t realize what we’re doing. And that job has been assigned to Parker.
“Yep, I’ve got you covered,” he says, dropping the bag on the table and then casually leaning on the back of the chair. “This is something I vote we discuss over dinner.”
Chapter Nine
With my stomach full of curry and vegetables, I’m content to sit at the table and keep chatting with Parker. Since he had already synthesized the new drug we needed for the water treatment plant, we were able to discuss less threatening conversations over dinner. I relate how his mother took straight to the farm and my bed. He laughs easily, nodding his head. His brown eyes sparkle behind his glasses. The doctor seemed to have inherited his mother’s spark and his father’s thoughtful manner. We chat easily for over an hour and it’s during a conversation regarding how different his life is here versus in San Francisco, where he grew up, that I realize I haven’t had a relaxed conversation in months. Everything has been about the war. About surviving Vider’s attacks. About infiltrating his administration.
“It was so strange when I first moved here and discovered my collection of science fiction wasn’t allowed inside the borders. They confiscated it,” Parker says, pushing a stray bean around on his plate. “But since Umma always despised those films she applauded this rule,” he says with a fond smile. “And I was committed to the job and ensuring my parents were happy. Which they were. Life in San Francisco was complicated with awful commutes and such a rude divide between neighbors. Everyone was a stranger. But here we were a part of the community instantly.”
“Do you miss it?” I ask, leaning my elbows on the table, fascinated that Parker’s parents with their worldly views were so endeared to the monochromatic feel of Austin Valley.
“I’ll tell you what I miss…” he says, pausing until my ears perked up with curiosity. “The beach.”
“Oh yes, I’ve dream traveled to a few. The ocean is wonderful,” I say.
He shakes his head. “It’s not the same,” he says, drumming his slender fingers on the table, an excitement simmering in him. “If you’ve never walked a beach in physical form then you don’t know what I mean exactly. To have your feet in the sand. To smell the salty air. To have wind whip across your face. That’s the true experience of the beach. I love dream travel, miss it since I’ve moved here and had it restricted, but it can’t accurately relate a place to anyone. Being there in physical form is always better.”
I sit back in my chair, feeling suddenly deprived. I’ve never been farther than Rogue’s farm. I thought that since I’d been all over the world in dream travel form I had seen the world. And I had. But now it sounded like I hadn’t experienced the world. I bring my eyes up to Parker’s and find him studying me with a quiet interest.
“What’s got you so perplexed?” he asks with a half-smile. His thick hair has fallen out of the slicked back style all Dream Traveler men are required to wear. It’s one way Vider shows the divide between the society.
“I just never considered traveling before. But now it sounds like I might need an actual passport one day.” My eyes skirt to the clock on the mantle and I bolt upright. The relaxed conversation made me forget about my evening meeting. “I’ve got to go,” I say, sliding all my things stationed around the table into my bag. “I’m late. Again. I’m sorry to rush out but thanks for dinner.”
“Thanks for taking care of my umma,” Parker says, stretching to a standing position. He’s not the least bit flustered by my rushed behavior.
“See you later,” I say as I dart out the door.
***
Without knocking I rush straight into Ren’s apartment. I’m fifteen minutes late. To my astonishment he has furniture. In the plural. Not just the one armchair that’s stood solo in his place for all these months. Now a sofa and another chair is arranged around a coffee table. Ren is in his usual worn plaid armchair. And sitting on the sofa across from him is a man I don’t know. The one I came to meet. The one Ren made the arrangements with using his contacts. This one man is the key to us winning this war. Everything depends on this meeting going well.
“I told you she’d be late,” Ren says to the man when I dart in and stand staring at them blankly. “She’s always late,” he says with a sneer.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I had another meeting that ran late,” I say, extending a hand to the man who’s now standing and facing me. “I’m Em.” I shake the man’s hand. His grip is too firm, like he’s trying too hard to convince me he’s strong, confident. The man is roughly Ren’s age, mid-forties, and he’s short, only a couple of inches taller than me.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Fuller. Your uncle was just filling me in on your projects. I have to say I’m impressed at all that you’ve accomplished,” he says, his voice deep.
“Thank you Mr.…” I say, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch.
“Call me Smith,” he says, a strong hint of authority in his voice.
“It’s not your real name, is it?” I ask.
He sighs and darts his impatient eyes at Ren and then back to me. Smith has a pointy chin but a rounded bald head. If it wasn’t for the hairstyle, then it would be his loose-fitting suit that gave away that he’s not a Reverian. He’s playing with something in his teeth with his tongue. He makes a sucking sound like he has a seed he’s trying to dislodge between two teeth. “You should know, Ms. Fuller, that my identity needs to remain confidential until the end. I’m playing a dangerous game by being here and can’t risk being discovered.”
“Because you work for the U.S. government?” I ask.
“Because I’m trying to help you bring down one of the most powerful men in America!” he spouts, his face turning a vibrant shade of red. Over his steepled hands, I catch an amused smirk on Ren’s face.
“Okay,” I say, holding my hands up in front of me. “We will help protect your identity. Thanks for meeting with me.”
Smith takes a deep breath. “I have to say I was surprised when I got the call from Ren. I was worri
ed about traveling into the Valley but I also knew I couldn’t let an opportunity like this slip by. I’ve spent my entire career in the FBI trying to find an in to Austin Valley but Victor Vider has it locked down. He’s made it impossible for me to gather the resources or support I need to properly investigate his actions and therefore lodge formal charges against him.”
“How has he done that?” I ask.
“He controls the thoughts of all of my colleagues and especially my superiors. He’s in the head of every congressman, the highest military officials, and of course the President of the United States himself.”
“But why not you? You’re a Middling, right?” I say.
A scowl wrinkles his long forehead. “Yes, I’m a Middling,” he says, sounding offended. “You think because you’re a Dream Traveler you’re so much better than me,” Smith says.
“I didn’t say that,” I say.
“Middlings might be weak in some regards but we aren’t imbeciles, like you all think.”
“I know that,” I say.
Again Ren is smirking. He obviously thinks my getting bombarded by this FBI agent is entertaining. I narrow my eyes at him before returning my attention to Smith.
“I haven’t been discovered by Victor because I’ve kept my suspicions and investigations of him secret,” Smith says. “I’ve noticed over the decades as my colleagues grew suspicious of him, investigated, and then mysteriously became completely disinterested in Austin Valley. Even as I questioned them about it they seemed to forget what we were discussing.”
“Suggestive memory loss,” Ren says, nodding his head, a knowing look in his eyes.
“Victor has made these investigators lose their memories?” I ask Ren.
“Yes,” he says. “The moment they think of something that triggers a thought of him or this Valley they forget what they were thinking about, it completely disappears. Like ‘poof,’ gone from their mind.”
“What? Vider has that ability?” I ask, surprised.
“On certain feeble-minded Middlings,” Ren says with a mischievous grin, his eyes half on Smith. He just isn’t happy if he’s not goading someone.
Smith whips around at once. “We are not feeble-minded. We are just ill prepared to deal with what Victor does.”
“Of course you aren’t, or your colleagues,” I say. “What my uncle meant was that we are all at a disadvantage under Vider’s control. But you’ve managed to stealthily stay hidden.”
“That’s why my identity has to remain secret,” Smith says, turning his scowl away from Ren and toward me. “I’m risking so much by being here. The moment Victor realizes I’m on to him he’ll brainwash me.”
“So what is our hope then?” I ask. “If he can brainwash anyone how do we convict him of his crimes?”
Smith holds up a single, plump finger to pause my questioning. “Victor cuts off all investigations before they can start. But having you two as insiders is an important advantage we’ve never been granted. If we discover enough evidence against him, and then you keep me protected while I go through the legal process, then we could have him set for trial and conviction before he knows what happens.”
A rush of optimistic hope starts buzzing in my chest. “Well, he is fairly distracted right now,” I say. “But what else do you need from us? There has to be more.”
He’s nodding as I ask my questions. “Evidence. If you gather enough evidence then I can construct a case. If I can get it in front of the entire bureau before Victor knows what’s happened then it will be too late for him to stop it. He can individually go after people but the entire bureau is too much. By then his cover will be blown and we can take him down.” There’s a vein along his temple. It’s bluish and my eyes keep jerking to it. This guy seriously needs to relax but not yet because he’s also our best chance at actually bringing Vider down. Everything I have planned so far saves Reverians, but this stops Vider.
Chapter Ten
It’s late by the time I return from my meeting with Ren and Smith. I’m grateful to discover Zack awake when I bounce into the living room, a new excitement making my steps lighter. I’m bursting to share with Zack my progress from the day. Ten Defects saved from conversion. The replacement drug for the water treatment plant safely tucked in my bag. And an FBI agent waiting for evidence so we can convict Vider of dozens of crimes.
Zack’s parked on the sofa, his elbows pinned on his knees, his head pressed between his hands like a vise grip. He must not have been home long since he’s still wearing his suit jacket, which he usually flings on the settee upon arrival.
I fall back on the couch, making the cushions bounce him slightly. “Are you mad because I’ve been out late again and you’ve been worrying about me?”
“No, I’m not mad,” he says, his head down, his voice muffled. “Although it’s got to be close to eleven. And yes, I’ve been worried.”
“I forgot to tell you this morning that I had a late meeting,” I say, kicking off my shoes and curling my feet underneath me. “Remember I had to bolt out of here because you allowed me to oversleep.”
Zack brings his head up and looks at me. His eyes are rimmed with red, heavy with stress. More so than usual. I spring forward, wrapping my hand around his bicep. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
I release his arm when he leans back, pressing his fingers into his eyelids. “It’s fine. It’s progress. Real progress, it’s just not the path I thought it would take.”
“Well, that sounds great! I can handle the unexpected, but that look on your face made me think you had devastating news,” I say, pushing my legs under me and sitting on my knees.
Zack pulls his fingers away from his eyes and regards me for several seconds. “You seem chipper for having such a long day. What happened?”
“Oh, no you don’t. You first,” I say.
He sits up, eyes the floor, the furniture, everything that isn’t me. Then his gaze collides with mine and an unbridled heartbroken look is chiseled on his face.
“What is it, Zack?” I say, frozen in place.
He clears his throat. “I met with your father this afternoon. I’d arranged the meeting to discuss the Planning Commission, but…” He pauses after the word. His mouth pinches together. Nostrils flare. “Chief Fuller assumed I’d scheduled the meeting to ask for his blessing.”
I blink rapidly. My brain can’t construct the right definition for that word in regards to Zack and my father. “What?”
“He thought I wanted his blessing for my proposal.”
I clamp a hand over my mouth, but still a muffled gasp escapes, one that reeks of my agony. “No,” I whisper.
Zack nods, to my astonishment. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to correct himself upon seeing my horror. Tell me I misunderstood. His proposal to do something for the administration? His blessing on a project? This can’t mean what I think it does. Can’t.
“Before I could interrupt your father and tell him that I wasn’t ready for marriage, he led straight into the conversation and then I was stuck.”
Did Zack just say marriage? “What are you saying?” And I don’t want to know the answer, but I can’t live without the truth.
“Through circumstances I couldn’t control I’ve been forced to formally propose to Dee,” Zack says, not looking at me. His voice is calloused. But it’s not his voice. Not the one I recognize. And I know all his tones.
“No-no-no-no,” I say in a whispered rush. My lip trembles under my hand, which thankfully half covers the look of shock set into my face.
“Em,” he says, and I know he’s looking at me.
I bring my eyes up to meet his and his expression empties me of any hope that this is a misunderstanding without a tragic ending. He doesn’t need to say any more, but he does.
“Dee has accepted. We’re going to be married.”
“No.” The word pops out of my mouth, a force behind it. “You can’t! You don’t love her!”
He turns his gaze away from m
e and nods.
“Zack, she’s going to make you miserable.”
He nods again.
“You don’t have to do it,” I say, pushing forward on the couch, putting my legs in front of me. Readying myself to grab him. Shake him. Convince him he’s making a huge mistake.
Slowly, like he’s fearful to look at me, he brings his eyes up to meet mine. “I do though. The best way to make change is from within. And the marriage offers me advantages in the government.”
“But you don’t love her. Why would you marry her?”
“Because it’s a sacrifice worth it. You’ve become an outlaw and given up everything. The least I can do is form a union with a crazy person.”
“No,” I argue. “We’ll figure out a way to get you out of it. You’ll say you’ve changed your mind. That you’ve got to focus on your job. You can delay the marriage maybe,” I say, hope rising in my voice. “At least until after the war, and then you won’t have to do it at all.”
As I’m speaking he’s shaking his head. And with each sentence his nonverbal communication holds more conviction. “No, Em. None of that will work. I have to do it. I’ve made the promise and I will do it. There’s too many reasons for why I have to.”
I shrink in on myself. I know that when Zack has committed to something he doesn’t go back. And I know better than to argue with the look he’s giving me right now. However, I can’t believe the words that fall out of my mouth. They are all wrong. “When? When are you tying yourself forever to that witch?”
He blows out a breath. Pins his head back in his hands, like how I found him when I first walked in. Before I realized he’s screwed up everything. That my father has. “Soon,” he says, and the answer is a knife in my heart. “Your father said that as soon as we’re married I can take his position as Chief of Staff.”