Baillie glares at me from across the table. I look back to Crane, who turns in the direction where Ms. Black is working with Lina. She must have been listening to the argument; she nods in my direction. I feel a little better having someone in the room who agrees with me.
“So we need to decide on a compromise,” Crane starts, “Residents will start receiving the hormone mixture at the age of eighteen, after their schooling and training is completed. Unless we start experiencing this hoodlum problem, then we will review this matter again.”
This is not the solution I would have preferred, but I feel better knowing that the children will be able to function normally.
The meeting has lasted almost the entire day again. By the time we near the end of discussions on Education the sun is hanging low over the lake. Crane has declared the meeting over. We sign the final agreements and place our belongings into our metal bins. Crane collects them and secures them in the safe just as he did the day before.
“Andromeda,” Crane signals to me as he is closing the closet door. I notice he looks tired, his shoulders sag a little, and he doesn’t exude the excitement and arrogance of our first meeting. “I need your list of laboratory supplies.”
I dig in my bag for the long handwritten list of supplies and hand it over to him. Crane looks over the list quickly. I know that laboratory supplies are expensive, the reagents, gel disks, nucleic acid synthesizers, micropipettes, computers, analysis programs and the microarray instrument used for analyzing the genetic material should cost over a million dollars. He says nothing about the expensive materials and computers needed to supply my lab.
“I wasn’t sure what my budget was for the lab.”
“There is none,” he responds swiftly. I’m shocked by his response. I can only assume that some other entity is funding the District, so I decide to ask.
“Where is the funding coming from?”
“Everywhere,” he responds nonchalantly.
“What do you mean everywhere?”
The corner of his mouth rises in a half smirk. Maybe it’s from my questions, or maybe because he gets to explain more of his mad plan to me. I can feel the arrogance and excitement radiate off him once again. He steps closer to me, bringing the musky scent of his cologne within smelling distance, my stomach churns, pushing the lunch towards the back of my throat.
“Do you remember, Andromeda, when I told you this runs much deeper than you would expect. That’s where the funding comes from. That is where our supplies come from. We will recycle as much as we can from this little town. And once the crops start coming in, and the food processing plants are back up and running, we will become self sufficient. Until then we will rely on our Funding Entities, they were aware of the cost before they came aboard.” Funding entities, I wonder who they are, specific people, governments, countries? “I think it is time to call it a night, our precious Lina is looking tired.”
Ms. Black walks up behind me carrying Lina and passes her into my arms. I don’t like the way Crane says “our Lina” like she is somehow his, like he knows her, or owns her. I don’t like that he calls her precious, because how could he know how precious she is. She’s precious to me but that’s because she is my child. I raised her, watched her turn into an amusing, spunky five-year old. I am not sure what his plans are for her, but she is much too young right now to be a part of this.
I turn and leave without saying goodbye to the madman, Crane.
CHAPTER TEN
The townhouse is not our real home, and it feels like we are living in a hotel. Lina and I unpack a few more of the boxes from the garage after the Volker drives us home. She runs upstairs each time we pull out one of her stuffed animals, placing them on the bed. I find our clothes and hang them up in the closet. There’s a pile of scrubs at the bottom of a box. I set them on the floor of the closet, sure that I will never wear them again. The door to the garage is open, letting in fresh spring air. The workers who packed up our belongings included Lina’s outdoor toys. As she rides her small princess bike on the cement driveway I dig through the remaining boxes. Stevie sits by the garage door watching her. I don’t want to leave her outside by herself so I set some things by the stairs for later.
It is evening, but the sun has not set yet. I’m antsy from being stuck in the office for days.
“Want to ride your bike down the road?” I ask Lina. Since there are no cars on the road, and the majority of the townhomes are empty, it seems like a good idea. I would also like a little exercise to clear my mind.
“Mommy, I’m not allowed to ride in the road. You told me so.” She continues to ride around in a circle at the end of the driveway.
“I know sweetie, but there are no cars here. It’s safe now. And I’ll be with you.”
“Ok,” she responds excitedly.
I tell Stevie to stay as I close the garage door, locking her inside. I haven’t found her leash yet and I don’t want to risk her running off to examine this unfamiliar area.
I follow Lina as she pedals out to the road. This road is new, the pavement smooth and easy for her to ride on. It weaves back towards the campus, splitting off a few hundred yards ahead of us with another road, towards town. The lake borders one side of the road, with dense forest on the other. Lina pedals slowly and I anticipate we won’t be walking for very long.
“Mommy,” she breaks the silence, “everything is different now, isn’t it?”
I can’t blame her for asking questions. It’s obvious that our lives have completely changed in just a few short days, and for a child it is no doubt hard to cope with. So far she hasn’t displayed any negative effects of losing her father, moving, having a completely different daily routine. I’m not sure what to tell her, because I know things may change again. I’m afraid that she has lost that stability in her life we once had, the one that keeps children feeling safe and grounded, that helps them grow up feeling loved and ready for the real world in all of its ruthlessness.
“Yes, everything is very different now,” I tell to her. “I think we’re going to see some more changes, me and you. But we will be together, always, I will keep you safe.” I pat the top of her head and she looks up smiling at me. A cracking sound comes from the forest, the distinct sound of a tree branch being stepped on. It crunches loudly in the still evening air.
“I love you, Mommy,” Lina responds as her little feet pedal slowly on the bike.
I feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck start to stand up. Those hairs that tell you someone is close by or just entered an empty room.
“I love you too, Lina. Let’s head home now.”
I grab the front of her bike and help her make a wide curve to turn around. The evening is starting to get darker but the street lights don’t come on. I’m starting to feel stupid, and paranoid, but then I hear another branch crack, this time closer to us. Suddenly I realize that a nice relaxing walk may not have been such a good idea. “Lina can you pedal a little faster for me,” I try not to let her hear the rising panic in my voice. I reach down and pull the front of her bike, walking faster. I scan the forest but I can’t see anything through the dense shrubs and low branches. Two more branches snap sending my heart into a raging flutter. I hear something, a low breathing, or growl. I can’t tell which. More branches snap, too many to count this time, the sound seems loud enough to burst my eardrums. I don’t wait to see what is at the edge of the forest. I pick Lina up under her arms and start running, leaving the bike in the road.
“Mommy my bike,” she shrieks, reaching behind me, struggling to get out of my arms.
“We’ll come back for it Lina. We have to get out of here, now.”
For a moment I still think I am being a coward, that there is nothing in the woods tracking our movements. That is until Lina lets out a scream so loud it leaves a ringing in my eardrums. I don’t turn around to see why she is screaming, I can only assume it’s from whatever was in the woods snapping the tree branches.
I am not an athlete.
I am not a runner, and running with a forty pound child clinging to my chest doesn’t help me move any faster. There is a sound behind us, and it’s something else running. It clicks on the smooth pavement, not like shoes, or sneakers. It clicks and clicks and clicks. I try to think of what it could be. Lina is still screaming in my ear, telling me to go faster. I try to run faster, using every ounce of energy in my body, and then I can place the sound, the clicks, they are nails, but there are too many of them for one animal, the clicking sounds like a pack of animals running after us. I know that I am no match against an animal that has spent its life hunting and running, training for a moment just like this, the pursuit of prey. They’re getting closer, whatever they are, and I can feel their hot damp breaths on the backs of my legs. We didn’t walk very far but I feel like I’ve been running for miles already. I’m too slow and Lina is too heavy.
There is a cluster of townhomes in front of me, not far from us. I can see a few lights on and I’m hoping that someone is home. I scream for help, worrying that Lina’s screams and shrieks are drowning out my calls to anyone who may be in one of the townhouses. No one opens their doors or looks out their curtains. No one is coming to help us. All that I can hear is Stevie barking fiercely from behind the garage door. I feel something scrape the back of my leg, it is just enough to trip me, knocking me down onto the pavement. I choke out a cry, pushing my hand in front of me so Lina doesn’t hit the ground. Small pebbles grind into the soft skin on my hand. All I can think, is how am I going to protect Lina. I curl my body around her, trying to protect her from whatever is chasing us. Something scrapes the back of my leg again, this time tearing through the khaki material of my pants and sending a sharp pain up my leg. There’s another swipe, this time across my back, and I can feel the nails tearing at my flesh. The tapping has stopped on the pavement and I can hear the growls and heated panting of whatever animal is at my back, moving in for the kill.
Oh no, what do I do?
At that moment, bursting through my fears and thoughts, I hear the most glorious sound, the sound of gunshots. I hear yelling and the footsteps of someone running in our direction. The animals no longer focus on us, but I stay in my curled up position, trying to protect my child.
There are more gunshots, but the animals don’t move away from us. I can feel the heat radiating off their bodies, I can smell them, it’s like when Stevie rolls in dead animals, but worse, stronger. They growl now, barking loudly, claiming me and my child as their own. Whoever is yelling and shooting gets closer, they let off a few more warning shots, but the beasts don’t budge. I close my eyes tightly, trying to think of what to do next. Lina whimpers in the space below me. There are more gunshots. I feel a spray of dislodged pavement at my back, then there is a loud shriek from one of the animals and I feel its heavy warm body thud against my side. I know it’s been shot, and it must be dead because there’s no more heavy breathing or heat radiating off it. There’s a yelp and more tapping on the road. It sounds like they are headed for the forest, away from us.
I stay in my position, protecting Lina, not expecting the heavy hand that clamps down on my shoulder, nor the voice that accompanies it.
“Andie, are you two all right?” I look up and see Adam at my side. His eyes are large, his brow furrowed. He’s wearing sweatpants and running shoes; his shirt is soaked with sweat and a gun in his hand. I sit up on my knees, pulling Lina up and hugging her to my chest.
“Oh my god, Lina, are you okay?” I pull her up off the ground and look her over for injuries. She’s crying and smudges of dirt from the pavement stain her pale cheek. “It’s okay, we’re safe now.” I pull her towards me and hug her tightly. Looking to my side and see a large furred body next to me.
“What was that?” I ask Adam. He runs his hand through his hair, staring at the body.
“I think it was a pack of wolves; there were four or five of them. It was so strange…”
I shake my head in disbelief. Adam grabs the leg of the animal dragging it to the side of the road. My palms are burning, and when I pull them off of Lina’s back I see that they are streaked with blood, leaving stains on the back of her shirt. I raise my leg up, positioning myself to stand while holding her. I adjust her weight onto my hip so I can carry her comfortably. Adam is walking towards us, wiping his hands on his pants. I step onto my right leg where the animal scratched me and pain sears up my leg, causing it to give out. I start to stumble but Adam rushes forward catching my elbow.
“Do you want me to take her?” He asks, sounding concerned. I shake my head no. He holds my elbow, giving me support as I limp back to the townhouse carrying Lina.
When we get to the door she has stopped crying and is silent. Stevie still barks from behind the garage door and Adam opens it to let her loose. She runs to the end of the driveway and down the road to where the dead animal is, barking viciously. She stops to mark the edge of the road a few times and then runs back to us sniffing and licking our hands. Adam helps me get up the stairs to the living room, then up to the second floor.
“Can you wait downstairs,” I ask him, “I need to get Lina cleaned up.”
He leaves us, heading down the stairs. I run a warm bath for Lina, checking her over as I help her get her dirty clothes off. She is unscathed, except for a scratch on her arm from the pavement. “You’re safe now Lina, it’s ok.” I kiss her scrape and give her a quick bath. I pull a large white towel from the cupboard and wrap her in it. The scrapes on my palms have stopped bleeding, but I can feel something trickling down my back. I’m not sure if it’s sweat or blood. I carry her to the bedroom, dress her, dry her hair and braid it. She reaches out and pulls the toy owl from the stack of stuffed animals on her bed, holding it close to her chest. I hold her on my lap for a long time, rocking her, kissing her on the head.
I hear a knock on the front door, and voices. I almost forgot Adam was in the house. Stevie barks a few times. I hear Adam tell her to lie down and she must, because she is quiet after that. I pull a blanket out of the closet and wrap Lina in it. She’s almost asleep, but I carry her downstairs to the living room, holding tightly to the stair railing so I don’t fall. The back of my leg feels like it’s on fire, my back doesn’t feel much better. I lay Lina down on the couch, wrapping her tightly in the blanket, as she is now sleeping. Turning, I see Adam has let Baillie into my house and what looks like a Japanese man in an EMT uniform.
“What’s going on here?” I ask Adam, but I am ushered over to a dining room chair by the medic before he can answer. The medic checks my hands, pouring a cleaning solution onto them that burns. Then he cuts my pant leg off at the knee and inspects the wounds on the back of my leg. He pours more of the solution onto it, before wrapping my calf in fresh white gauze.
“I needed to report what happened,” Adam replies as I am being bandaged up.
“Adam filled me in,” Baillie chimes in. “We can discuss it further in tomorrow’s committee meeting.” Baillie looks taller, and darker against the white walls of the townhouse, his hand resting on the pistol on his hip, making me very uncomfortable. I prefer that he not be in my house at all and I get the feeling Stevie feels the same way, she growls continuously from where she lays. I don’t want to talk to him, I want him to leave. I nod in agreement and he turns to leave stopping near Adam. “I hear you’re doing well in training recruit.” Adam nods at him. “Keep it up, we could use someone with your expertise and experience in the higher ranks.” Finally Baillie is closing the front door, and Stevie stops her growling.
“Now, I need to see your back,” the EMT instructs me.
I stand up and pull my arm out of my shirt, exposing most of my back and bra. Usually I’m modest but I can tell by the pain that my back needs to be taken care of. I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks when I notice Adam watching the EMT closely.
“This needs to be stitched. I need to see more of your back.” The EMT goes back to his bag, pulling out a vial and syringes. I can see from the label that it reads: Lidocai
ne. “I need you to lie down,” he tells me as he draws the medication into the syringes.
The only places for me to lie down are the floor or the table. I choose the table.
Although I have assisted many times at work, I have never actually been the receiver of stitches, and the thought of the sutures pulling through my skin makes me feel sick. I don’t want Adam to see me in just my bra, but the pain makes me not care much anymore.
Adam must sense my unease. “It’s ok, I’ve had stitches plenty of times,” he tells me, “you won’t feel a thing.”
I pull the rest of my shirt off and lay down on the table on my stomach. I watch the EMT finish pulling up the medication; he threads the needles, and gloves up all in a sterile manner that I know is not familiar to an EMT. This man is a doctor. I turn my head away from the doctor and squeeze my eyes shut. The needles pinch as he numbs the area where the deep scratches are. He waits a moment for the numbness to kick in before he cleans the area with the antiseptic, and then I feel the tugging of the sutures. Bile piles up in the back of my throat. I take deep breaths, trying to stop myself from vomiting. When I feel someone squeeze my hand I open my eyes, Adam is standing next to me. He smiles a little before his gaze shifts to the doctor working.
No one has ever seen me like this before. Vulnerable, barely dressed. Only Ian. No one has ever seen the tattoo that slides down my left side, over my ribs, a single raven in flight. Trailing behind are the words: be brave. I want to laugh at the thought of the tattoo, especially after tonight, but I’m too afraid I’ll puke if I move. I wonder if Adam sees it, if he is staring at my back. Suddenly, I am very self conscious. I squeeze my eyes closed and try and focus on the heat coming from Adams palm that is lying over my hand. After a long time I hear the doctor open packages of gauze and tape to cover his stitches.
The Phoenix Project Page 11
