by SF Benson
“Where to?” He asked over his shoulder.
I pointed to the flight of stairs, and we descended into the dark. The stale and moist air in the basement chilled me. Zared turned on the flashlight. Its yellow light illuminated the remnants of our belongings. Strangers had been there. Empty food wrappers and beer bottles littered the floor. The tart stench of urine permeated the air. We switched spots and I led him to a closed door in the corner. I tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. He forced the door open with his shoulder and we entered a large, dusty room.
“This used to be my dad's office.”
Grime and graffiti covered Dad’s furniture. Someone ruined his leather chair with a knife. Zared stood in the doorway while I searched the desk drawers and file cabinets. Empty. Where would she have hidden it? Then, I remembered the gun under the coffee table.
“Z, let me have the flashlight.” I shone the light along the baseboard and then along the doorframe. “Can I get a boost?”
Zared put his hands around my waist and lifted me up. A shiver ran down my spine, wrong time for my hormones to kick in. I ran my fingers along the wood until I found a piece of loose paneling. When I tapped it the card reader hit the floor. Our eyes met briefly. The instant my feet touched the ground, his lips were on mine. Reluctantly, I dragged my mouth away, picked up the device, and nodded toward the stairs.
My heart sank when we reached the top of the stairs. My home was decimated. A broken window let in the cold fall air. The breeze, however, didn’t displace the cloying smell of urine and mildew. I stepped around the missing floorboards. What became of the upstairs? Plaster, paint chips, and pieces of wood covered the steps. I entered the hallway. Someone had spray painted my bedroom door, at the end of the hall, with obscenities.
I led him into my room, which overlooked the large, overgrown backyard. A couple of ropes hung from a tree with a splintered piece of wood between them. “Cris used to push me on that swing.” I blinked away the tears. “He taught me how to ride a bike and how to fight when I kept mixing it up with the neighborhood kids.”
Zared cleared his throat. “Cris was a good guy.”
“He was.”
I turned from the window. It was so strange to be back in my room. Unfortunately, it hadn’t done so well without me. A few shards of glass hung from the cream-colored mirror frame over the dresser. The drawers were missing. My twin-sized mattress lay bare and spotted with dark stains. The ratty carpet, once plush, had its own blemishes. I ran my fingers across the peeling discolored wallpaper with the pink ballerinas. My world had shattered beyond repair.
Zared tapped my shoulder. “Tru, let’s go. I don't have a good feeling about being here.”
I followed him back down the hall.
He stopped without warning, and I ran into him. He whispered, “Did you hear that?”
A car door closed. I ran into one of the front facing rooms and pulled back a heavy, musty drape. Two men, maybe CHA agents, were exiting a government vehicle.
“Z, we've got trouble.”
He came up behind me. The men were going around to the side door. “We've got to make a run for it.”
“We'll have to go out the front door,” I said.
We rushed to the stairs. Zared pulled me ahead of him and removed a gun from his waistband. He loaded a clip and held the weapon low. I fumbled with the front door lock. I rubbed my sweaty palms against my pants. With a better grip the sticky latch gave and the door popped open. I looked back and locked eyes with a CHA agent exiting the kitchen.
“Run!” I pushed Zared out the door.
We jumped off the side of the porch, reaching the car as the agents stepped outside. The broken steps slowed them down for a minute. Zared disengaged the auto drive and pulled off from the curb with the CHA in pursuit. We sped up Chesterfield Road headed for the main thoroughfare. A quick left turn on Pembroke, and the car picked up speed.
“Can you lose them?” The agents were a block behind us.
“Sit tight!” Livernois Avenue lay just ahead. The car skidded as it turned right.
“What's with the gun?”
“Don't you think we need it?”
“Where are we going?”
“Not now, Tru!” Zared drove through a yellow light and past some boarded up buildings.
The agents continued to chase us. Zared made another dicey right turn onto Eight Mile Road nearly slamming into another vehicle as the vehicle fishtailed around the corner. The agents weren’t behind us. A cemetery lay up ahead. He drove through the gate. Somber dressed people gathered at a gravesite. He parked between some other gray cars and yanked me down on the seat.
I heard the motor of a passing car. Damn, they figured out we were in the cemetery. I cowered on the floor with my body shaking. Zared waited five more minutes and opened the door. I peeked over the dashboard and saw the CHA car drive down another road in the cemetery.
A glimpse of the mourners at the funeral site made me think of Cris. There wouldn’t be any type of service for him. I choked back the tears threatening to fall.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I cleared my throat. “That was way too close.” I sat up in the seat.
“I know.” He retrieved his pack from the car’s backseat. “We need another set of wheels.”
“Why?”
“They’ll track us. I’ll check the other cars. Someone may have left the doors unlocked.” Zared jumped out and skulked along the curb. I gathered my things and followed him. He found another dark Lincoln and tried the door. The owner left the doors unlocked and the key fob in the vehicle. He pressed the starter button and pulled away from the curb.
“Tru, I’d feel better if you let me hold on to the card.”
If Mom were right, I would be helping his father. If she was wrong, I held my life in my hands. What the hell. Either way, I was screwed. I handed it to him. Zared slipped the card into his boot. “What else did your mom say?”
I stared out the window and recalled our conversation. How do you know that his father didn't send him to retrieve Intrepid's information? He may be as cold and calculating as his father. Mom had to be wrong. Not everyone had secrets.
“It was just more negativity about you and your dad. She said something about him doing experiments on people.”
“I, uh, don't know, Tru. I’m starting to think anything might be possible.” He ran a hand through his hair. “We need someplace safe for the night.”
We couldn’t return to the apartment nor the factory. “I know a place.”
I directed Zared to the vestiges of a church in New Center. The congregation abandoned the Gothic Catholic church about twenty years ago. Its sanctuary, practically demolished, was the perfect hiding place. He drove the car into the building, detection from the CHA would be difficult.
He turned off the car and closed his eyes. I took a moment and examined our hideout. Parts of the church’s roof were missing. Concrete rubble lay everywhere. Puddles of water from recent rain stood on the floor. The second-story balcony didn’t appear stable. The putrid odor of rotten eggs and mildew saturated the space. It made the factory seem like a five-star hotel. But it would provide us shelter for the night.
“Z?”
“Yeah?” He didn't open his eyes.
“You okay?”
“Fine. Just thinking.”
“About?”
He dragged his eyes open. “I guess I underestimated the CHA.”
“You think?” What we were doing was insane. We were risking our lives for what? A hope and a prayer? I’d lost my brother, my father was MIA, and my mother got arrested. In the end, I might still be vaccinated. My hands shook. Tears stung my eyes. Soon he would learn I wasn’t as brave as I pretended to be.
He squeezed my hand. “Hey, we'll get through this.” Zared leaned over and kissed me, nothing like the quick one we experienced earlier. I needed that. All day I felt like we were kind of out of touch. “I wanted to do that all day.”
/> I didn’t have a response. My head throbbed from all the unanswered questions. How well did I want to know him? He carried a gun, kept company with a thief, and was prone to anger. He wasn’t an upstanding young man. If he were, I wouldn’t be attracted to him. I liked danger. Well, I had had enough for one day. Imagining our fate at the hands of the CHA or Riza scared the crap out of me.
What did I expect? Did I think we could take on the government without problems? Too late to change the path I traveled on. I knew too much. There were those who would say ‘eff it all’ and turn Zared in. Turn a bad situation into a minor one. Hope for the New Order’s forgiveness. But I would never turn him in. My heart wouldn’t let me. Plus, disloyalty wouldn’t earn me any bonus points. My inoculation would still happen.
He reached into the car’s backseat and pulled out his pack. “I went to my father's house today and got his files. Your mom mentioned human experiments. Let's see if these things shed some light.”
“People who aren’t permitted to think shouldn’t have weapons.”
—Benjamin J. Salk, leader, the American Republic
Daylight streamed through the open windows of the abandoned church. Before rain damaged its masonry, St. Agnes was a great Gothic cathedral. A declining parish deserted the church. Over the years, looters robbed the structure of its organ pipes, chandeliers, and even the altar. Graffiti covered the few intact gray walls. The other walls were stripped leaving their guts—brick, wood, and plaster—scattered on the floors. The sanctuary contained a few raggedy, cushionless pews and the gutted, rusty organ.
Zared and I split his father's files between us. I sat on the hood of the car with papers spread around me. He sprawled against a tire with files stacked next to him.
“Tell me more about your dad's research.” Focusing on his dad kept me from worrying so much about my mom. “What did he study?”
“Genetics.” His head was buried in a manila folder with shredded and curled edges.
“You said he was a doctor? What type?” I probed.
“Yeah. He was in obstetrics and gynecology.”
“Do you remember him talking about reprogenetics?” I moved closer to Zared. Coldness seeped up from the floor. “Embryo screening?”
“Huh?” He looked up from his file.
“He wrote this article about reprogenetics. It was his rebuttal to an article in support of genetic engineering of embryos.”
“I don’t remember him writing it,” he replied, “but it might have been the research that led to the eradication of some diseases.”
I had a vague recollection of genetics from my classes at the learning center. “And that led to DNA mapping, right?”
Zared sat like a statue—stiff and expressionless. The possibility his father was alive had to bother him. If I were in his place, I’d be pissed. I reached out to touch him, and he angled away from me. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried not to take it personally. All I wanted was to alleviate his pain.
“Yeah, it did. And it was used for in vitro fertilization. Nothing sinister in that.” The file fell into his lap. He banged his head against the car. “Shit! All of this for nothing!”
I froze. Anger radiated off him. He had every right to be upset, but he needed to handle it better.
“It’s not for nothing,” I offered cautiously. “We just need to keep searching.”
He put his head in his hands. “How about a break? I'm tired.”
I closed the file in my hands. Did he say he was tired? I’d love to curl up in a warm bed, pull the covers over my head, and forget all the shit I’d been through. But it wasn’t happening anytime soon. He didn’t want to experience my anger.
“Yeah, let’s take a break. I’m sure they’re giving my mom a break right now,” I spat back.
“Gee, are you trying to make me feel bad? I haven’t forgotten about your mother. I just want a few minutes.” Zared exploded off the ground and headed further into the sanctuary.
I flinched at his harshness. A break wouldn’t hurt. It had been a long day. I minced my way over to him and tapped his shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about my mother. We didn’t leave things in a good way.”
“I know. We can keep—”
“No.” I took his hand in mine and squeezed it. “You’re right. Let’s take a break.”
Zared gave me a slow and sexy smile. He pulled me into his arms, and we tumbled into the car’s backseat. My heartbeat, along with his kisses, intensified. I pressed my body against his. We anchored each other through all the crap in our lives. His weight comforted me in ways I didn’t understand and couldn’t explain. He moved his warm hand under my shirt and fondled my breast. I froze for a few seconds before breaking off the kiss. I wanted my first time to be special. The backseat of a car cheapened it.
I stared at the back of the driver’s seat. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” he sighed heavily.
“Not here.” I didn’t deny I wanted him. “It’s…I just can’t…”
He got off me, faced the window, and raked his hand through his hair. “Don’t worry. I’m not into forcing a girl.”
His cold words penetrated my body, my soul. I swallowed back a sob as he slammed the door in my face. I wasn’t trying to be a tease. Zared had my heart without question. He knew I was inexperienced. My dream first time didn’t include a quick frolic in a stolen car. I wasn’t that kind of girl. He had to understand that. I flung open the door.
“Z?”
“It’s fine,” he snapped. “I need a moment.” He pounded his fist against a wall. If I had a better hold on my emotions, Zared wouldn’t be wrestling with his.
I approached him. “I’m sorry, Z. I shouldn’t—”
“No, I’m sorry.” He leaned against the wall and slid to the ground. “I shouldn’t have pressed—”
“You didn’t. I just don’t want my first time to be in a place like this.” I gestured to the space around us.
He patted the spot next to him. I took a seat but maintained a safe distance. I’d caused enough pain for one day.
Zared clenched his hands in front of his chest. “Tru…”
“I, uh—”
When I refused to move, he came over to me. “I get it. You want it to be special. I can wait until the right moment. The right place.”
I nodded.
He put his arms around me. “Things got scary today. I only wanted to be close to you.”
I sank into him, wishing I could indulge in the moment. Besides being in the wrong place at the wrong time, other things occupied my thoughts. I recalled Mom pulling the gun from under the coffee table. For years, my parents claimed they were against gun use and violence. Another lie. My body stiffened.
“What are you thinking about?” Zared rubbed the tension in my shoulder.
Speaking of guns… “What’s with the weapon?”
“I told you I’d been in the RC. It’s a basic skill.”
“Would you have used it?”
Zared hugged me tighter. “If I needed to, I would have. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
Great. Things were bad enough to warrant a gun. Suddenly, my skin felt too tight. I tugged at my jacket.
“What’s wrong?” He moved his arm.
“I can’t deal with all this,” my voice shook.
“All of what?” He frowned.
For the first time in my life, I was scared. Really scared. We came close to death today. Tremors ripped through my body. My heart threatened to leap out of my chest. I clutched at my throat.
“Tru, breathe.” He rubbed my back.
I gasped for air. The room spun.
“Listen to me. You have to breathe. Come on, breathe with me, babe. In. Out. In. Out.”
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. My breathing was less ragged, but I continued shaking. He pulled me onto his lap and rocked me. I put my head on his shoulder. Back, inhale. Forward, exhale. Back, inhale. Think happy thoughts. Forward, exhale. De
ep breath. Back, inhale. My heart slowed.
“Better?”
I nodded. “That’s never happened before.”
“You’ve been through a lot today.”
My shoulders slumped. “I’m so tired of this crap. I just want things to be normal.”
“Do you even know what normal is? Nothing’s been normal since we’ve been kids.”
“You remember how things used to be? Teens dated. Went to movies. Ate too much fast food.”
“Retro,” he said.
“I don’t care what you call it. I want it. I don’t want to live worrying about someone killing us.” I rubbed my arms. Was it wrong to cling to a past we’d never experience again?
Zared pulled me to my feet, gathering me in his arms. “Hey, when this is over, we can figure out a normal life for us.”
“I somehow doubt that. Life can't be normal as long as the New Order is in power.”
He kissed my forehead. “Y’know we're burning daylight. We better get back to work.”
“I will use my position to eradicate illnesses and those individuals who breed illnesses.”
—Hippocratic Oath, 2020
Any chance of normalcy in this world required fighting for it. We needed to find proof, the key, for this battle. I returned my attention to the folder in my lap and switched on the flashlight.
“Do you know anything about Eugenics?”
“It’s a contentious issue most people don’t want to talk about.” He flipped through another stack of papers.
“Explain.”
He closed the folder. “There are some people who think humans can be improved by repressing genetic defects or undesirable traits.”
“Repressed?” I folded my legs underneath me.
“People with those defects or traits aren’t allowed to reproduce. Some scientists think it’s a good thing to encourage reproduction by people who have the right genes or traits.”
