by C G Cooper
Their colors were vibrant against a backdrop of gray, and yet Cutler found no comfort in their vitality. They too were secluded from the real world. They had no idea what was out there.
He turned his back on the garden. “Do you know what happened to her, Professor?”
“To whom?” Professor Witwick asked. His voice was innocent, but his eyes were sharp. The government had ears everywhere, especially at the school.
“Victoria,” Cutler said, copying the other man’s innocent tone. “There was no information in the letter I received. They wouldn’t say how she died.”
“They wouldn’t tell any of us,” the professor answered delicately. He gave Cutler a sad smile. “You must not be late to the funeral. Katherine won’t forgive you for that. I will watch over your belongings in the meantime.”
“She doesn’t want me there,” Cutler said, making his way toward the door.
“She is alone now, Cutler. She may not know you yet, but there is little else a girl wants in the world than to be loved by her father.”
Cutler couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as he turned back to shake the old man’s hand. “How did you get to be so wise, professor?”
“Age, my dear friend,” the professor said. “And three wives.”
Out in the hall, Cutler allowed himself to be swept away by the sea of people. The mass of bodies surrounding him at least offered a sense of anonymity. It was nice to be inside these walls once more, but he had no wish to revel in the experience. He wanted to see his daughter, pay his respects to his ex-wife, and leave as soon as possible.
Surrounded by so many students, Cutler had his head on a swivel, looking for Katherine. He would never spot her amongst the crowd. He proceeded to the campus chapel, knowing that she couldn’t ignore him at her own mother’s funeral. Or so he hoped.
He spotted Katherine immediately as she passed the Christo-Islamic crescent cross with the Jewish star intertwined, his heart beating so hard in his chest that it felt like it was reaching out to her. He willed her to turn around, to look at him, to come and hug him, but she put herself rigidly into a chair at the front of the room and sat statue-stiff.
The service had yet to start, but more and more people were filling up the lines of chairs that had been placed near a shining white casket. Some of the attendees gave him a wary look, while others nodded their heads or shook his hand. For the most part, they left him alone to make his way to the front of the group and stand awkwardly next his daughter’s seat.
Cutler knew the instant Katherine had registered he was nearby. Her hands had clenched into fists in her lap. She had taken the second seat in along the first row, leaving the aisle open for him. He sat down next to her and looked forward, taking in the smooth plastic of the casket, shaped like a bullet for its launch after the service. Cutler winced at the notion. He preferred the ancient idea of burying the dead. As morbid as it was, they were so much closer that way, resting eternally in the dirt beneath your feet. Space was far and cold, and most of it was empty. There were endless floating graveyards in space for those who didn’t opt for cremation. He supposed there was comfort in having loved ones floating overhead like angels.
He let the awkward moment hang in the air between him and Katherine for a few seconds longer, peeking at her from the corner of his eye. Her long, straight hair, blazing red, and her academy-issued brown dress pants and blazer, made him feel like he was sitting next to a volcano that was already erupting. But it was her overall resemblance to Victoria that gave him the most painful pang in his chest.
“Hey,” he said softly. He sensed that she'd stiffened further.
Katherine paused for a moment, as if wrestling with the idea of possibly ignoring him throughout the entire service. “Hello,” she said at last.
Victoria's voice. As sweet as clear air. He could have wept.
“How you holding up?”
“Absolutely perfect.”
Cutler sighed. He tried to be a good dad. Or at least he thought he did. He called Katherine on her birthday, on all the major holidays. He sent presents. He inquired after her to make sure school was going well, to ask about friends, about boys in her life. But wherever it had gone wrong between them had to be his fault. Even when he and Victoria didn’t see eye to eye, Victoria had at least made the attempt to include him in their daughter’s life. It had always been up to Cutler to rise to it.
For a while, it seemed to work. When he first left Earth, she missed him. When they grew apart, he tried to convince himself that it was because they no longer knew each other anymore. But there was never any hatred – until recently. Talking to Katherine these days was like preparing for war.
“I know today isn’t easy,” he said, trying to keep his voice in check. “It’s not easy for me either.”
Katherine scoffed. “You hardly knew her, Dad. Don’t pretend like you care all of a sudden.”
He turned to her now. Her green eyes flickered to his for the briefest of moments before she looked away again. Even she had to have been aware she'd hit a nerve.
“Twenty years, Katherine. Twenty years. I loved her since before you were born. Even after the divorce I loved her. You're still a child. I never stopped caring about either one of you.”
“You could have been better,” she said, her voice wilted.
“We all could have been better.”
She gave the tiny exhalation of a mocking laugh.
He ignored it. “Things are different now. You and I are going to have to learn to live together.”
Katherine’s head snapped in his direction, her hair fanning out around her shoulders as she did so. Her jaw was hanging open, and it sounded like she was working to find her voice again. More than angry, she looked terrified.
Before she could say what was on her mind, however, a short man with wispy, graying hair stepped up in front of the casket.
“Friends, we gather here to pay our respects to Victoria Jean Mayer Copeland, whose passing leaves a great well of sadness in all of us. For her daughter, Katherine, for her former husband, Cutler, we pray. For her father, Gerard, and her mother, Lana; for her two sisters, Phoebe and Iris, we ask for blessings…”
Cutler let the man’s voice fade into the background as he took in the scene around him. Standing room only, and that only included relatives and countless colleagues who turned out for the occasion. Outside, a mass of students who couldn’t fit into the chapel lined the hallway. There was nothing like funeral attendance to gauge the worth of a human being's existence at their point of departure.
But Victoria had been full of vitality, full of passion. He thought he had been the passionate one, and that when he'd finally left Earth, he had gained everything he’d ever wanted in life. He knew now that it was merely a trade for all he'd already won.
He found himself reaching out for Katherine's hand (or was it Victoria's?), and when their fingers met, she turned her face to his. There was profound sadness in her eyes. She cried silently, like her mother. He expected her to reject his hand, but she only gripped it tightly in hers and turned forward again.
He faced the truth now: He was a stranger to his daughter. Katherine had lost her entire world when her mother died. In her eyes, she was alone. In his, he had another chance to get to know his little girl. Despite the tragic circumstances, he couldn’t help but see it as a chance at redemption.
The service was short and simple—plain and accommodating to all, like the chapel it was held in. There was a significant tearing of grief in him when the casket was whisked away. Before he even knew what was happening, the service was over. The congregation stood and began exiting the chapel. Katherine slipped her hand out of her father’s and melted into the crowd, leaving Cutler calling after her.
He managed only a few steps before he felt a hand on his arm. He turned and found himself staring at Professor Witwick.
“She's upset,” Cutler said.
“I know.”
“Was it naive of me to ex
pect something other than hatred?” The men moved to a cove off to one side of the hallway to allow the congregation to pass. Both men sat down on the bench with a groan.
“Too old for this shit,” Cutler said.
“You’re younger than I am.”
“Point's still moot.”
The men fell silent for a beat.
“She doesn’t hate you, by the way. She’s just scared. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next.”
“I want to take her with me, Wick. It’s safer than down here. How her mother ever convinced me this was a good place to raise a child is beyond me.”
The professor nodded his head. He watched the students as they walked by, his mind somewhere else entirely.
“There are no ears here, Wick.”
Witwick's eyes cut to him momentarily before returning to the students hurrying down the hall.
“What is it?”
The old man moistened his lips. “If you want to take Katherine away from here, then you ought do so as soon as possible.”
Cutler shook his head. “She has a week left before her finals are over. I was thinking more along the lines of waiting until—”
“Her finals will be the least of her worries.”
Cutler stared at the man, whose face was fixed and hard.
“Wick?”
Still staring. “Hmm?”
“Wick.”
The face turned to him.
“This is my daughter. If you know something, tell me.”
Witwick turned away again. “Did you know Katherine was the one who found Victoria’s body?”
Cutler had trouble swallowing. His hand fell to his lap and he leaned his head against the stone wall, allowing its coolness to seep into his body.
“No. I sent her a dozen messages as soon as I got the letter from the school, but she never replied.”
“She called the doctors right away, but Victoria was already dead. Several people saw them take the body away.”
How his daughter must have reacted…never mind. He couldn't bear even the ghost of that thought. He locked all images of it out of his head.
“Victoria had been the picture of health except for the week leading up to her death. She hadn’t attended any of her classes. You know, they say some people can feel the virus replicating in their body—”
“Wick, with all due respect, you can stop talking.”
“Understand what it is I am telling you. They say some people in their last days can feel the virus replicating.” He placed a gentle hand on Cutler's shoulder. “They found letters to Katherine in Victoria’s desk drawer and confiscated them. People saw them removing paperwork from her home.”
“So?”
“Is that all you have to ask?”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“Rumors are powerful things, Cope. Tensions have been high for a while, and in case you’ve forgotten, Victoria had been pretty loud with her disapproval of the government’s reticence regarding all things relating to the virus.”
“So were you,” Cutler interjected.
Witwick nodded soberly. “So was I. And I’ve been... fielding a lot of questions about what I know.”
Cutler shifted in his seat. “What have you been telling people?”
Witwick chuckled sardonically. “Not the truth, that’s for sure. But some of these professors here are starting to put two and two together, and the government only has two choices by way of response.”
“And those are?”
“Wait until someone figures out they’ve been lying to us this whole time and try to save face, or get ahead of the game. Start clamping down on dissidents. Shut down the school's intercommunications channels. And shut down transportation off-planet. It's all straight out of the fascist playbook.”
“I suppose it's no use speculating on which course they're likely to take.”
“Let's put it this way,” said Witwick, drawing a slow breath, “The government has never been a patient beast.”
3
Katherine
She lay face down on the bed while Tiffany rubbed circles into her back, her roommate offering low-fat words of comfort. No such fluff could make this day any better. Her mother was dead and her father was her new guardian.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and buried her face in her hands.
“He's your father,” Tiffany offered after a moment's reverent observation.
Katherine glared at her from between her fingers.
She wanted her to be wrong. But the stranger she met at the funeral couldn't just expect to fill years of fatherlessness in a single day.
Tiffany stood up and faced her, hands on her hips, corkscrew curls giving the impression of bouncing without moving. “It's not like he's taking you away from here.”
“He lives off-world, Tiff. He hates Earth. Give him one reason to stay.”
“You. And your education. You still have a week left. At any rate, you’ll be eighteen in a couple of months. He can’t force you to go anywhere you don't want to go.”
Katherine groaned and fell back on her bed. What would Mom say? Fight, that's what. She missed the presence of strength in her life now, and she'd only just said goodbye. What would happen in a month? A year? Where would she turn for her rock?
Mom had always been there.
When had her father ever been there?
“I miss her,” she said finally, a flow of tired tears blurring the room.
She felt the bed shift as Tiffany sat down beside her. For a pained moment, she wondered how the simple gesture of a friend's hand on her back could replace so many hugs she would never receive again. This thought she quickly chased away.
“I’m here,” Tiffany said. “For what it’s worth.”
It was worth almost nothing. Another thought she dared not give more time to.
A soft knock came from the door.
“Oh God, I really don't feel like seeing anyone.”
“I’ll get rid of whoever it is,” Tiffany said, rising.
“Just tell them I’m sleeping.” Katherine rolled over to face the wall.
She heard the door swing open followed by her father's liquid voice. She sat up in bed and hugged her knees to her chest. He wouldn't leave unless she saw him.
“I’ll talk to you later, Kit,” Tiffany said, making a slow retreat. Katherine nodded without meeting her eyes. She refused to give the deadbeat the satisfaction of acknowledging presence with a wayward glance.
“Kit?” He was now standing in the middle of the room. She could feel him staring down at her.
“That’s my name,” she said.
“Kit?” her father repeated. “That’s the name of a cat, not a person.”
Katherine looked up then, tears still in her eyes. “Is there a reason you're here?”
Her father held up his hands in surrender and cocked his head to the side, as if trying to see around an illusion.
She got up and swung her jacket back on, pulling it closed across her chest like armor. She stared him down.
“What?” she said, sitting back down on her bed and scooting back until she felt secure against the wall.
“Something’s happened,” he said, “and I think we need to leave sooner rather than later.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Katherine laughed. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“I’m serious, Katherine. We need to leave the city.”
“My name is Kit,” she ground out, “and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“It’s too dangerous here—”
“It’s always been dangerous here, Dad, but that didn’t stop you from deserting us ten years ago.”
“Don’t you think I wanted you to come with me?”
“No, as a matter of fact. I don't.” She stood up. He bested her by a foot but she looked him in the eye. She was trembling inside. “Now that Mom’s dead, you’re forced to be my legal guardian. You wouldn't be doing this otherwi
se.”
“I'm sorry you feel that way. Your mother and I—”
The mention of her mother triggered her. Her gut went taut. “Oh, no,” she said, throwing her hand up. “You're not going to bring her into this. Do you know how hard it was for her to raise me and keep her job? In the last year, I barely saw her. She was always working, always trying to make sure I had everything I ever wanted, and that included tuition for this school. What did you ever do for us?”
“Tuition? I’m the one that’s been paying for the academy.”
She looked at him. “What...?”
“You can contact the bursar for proof. I’ve been paying for Juniper since the day you stepped foot across the threshold. Wherever you got the impression that she was paying for your tuition, I don't know. But you've been misled.”
“Mom never lied to me,” she hissed, but even as she said it, she faltered. Mom had told her explicitly that she worked late into the night to make sure they didn’t get behind on their bills.
“Whatever she told you was...wrong,” her father said. His voice was low and gentle, like he was taking care not to spook a wild animal. “But perhaps there was a reason.”
Katherine shook her head. “I barely saw her. She was always going out to other areas of the city. She’d pack her bags over the weekend, kiss me on the forehead, and come back in time for classes on Monday morning. What the hell else was she up to?”
“Protecting you. She didn’t want you to have any information just in case they came for her.”
“In case who came for her?” Katherine asked.
“Certain people from the government. Certain doctors.”
His face was weathered, dusted with stubble. But his eyes shone, as if he loved with his eyes alone. They were green like hers. Her mother had been eccentric and lively and beautiful. But her father had a certain quality of mercy about him that seemed eternal.
“What was wrong with her?” she asked. She knew the answer, but she had never allowed herself to think the words. She had known the second she had found her mother’s body. Katherine had refused to look at the clues that had been laid out in front of her—the erratic behavior, the panic, the insistence more than ever that Katherine strengthen her relationship with her father, a suggestion that Katherine had fought against at every turn; what did she need her father for if she had her mother by her side? Hindsight is always maliciously self-accusing in the wake of death.
