Dwindle: Populations Crumble: Book 1

by K. A. Gandy

  I feel panic creeping up my throat. I had been keeping myself grounded with the idea that this was all just for a season. Two years with a virtual stranger. Two years without a hug from my own family. Two years without getting a good morning snuffle from Morgan when I meet him at the pasture fence. It sounds like eternity, already. But I’m supposed to be able to get married, have a baby, go home with the baby and the husband, and get back to normal. But now, the fact that they want to still be managing me two kids later makes my skin crawl. I surge to my feet, causing several of the other girls to turn in my direction. The nurse snaps a look at me, and I stammer out, “I need to go to the restroom.”

  I quickly go out the door and shut it behind me before she can argue. I lean my back against the door for a minute, trying to calm my racing thoughts, my pounding heart. It’s going to be okay; it has to be. I can get through this. One day at a time, I can get through this. As I’m giving myself this mental pep-talk, I hear a man clear his throat to my left, and almost jump out of my skin.

  “Good God, where did you come from?” I practically shout, as I turn and see him standing a few paces away.

  He raises both hands in front of him, trying to assure me he isn’t a threat, “Hey, whoa, let’s calm down. I’m Patrick, I’m one of the guards here. I could tell you didn’t see me, and didn’t want you to be surprised, although I guess I missed the mark on that one.” He offers a self-deprecating smile, and thankfully stays where he is.

  I look down, and see that he is indeed wearing what appears to be a guard’s uniform, although it’s a little less obvious than guards you’d see at a bank, or with a justice when they visit town hall. “I didn’t know there were guards here.” I state, trying to get my brain over the shock and running again. I quickly take in his black hair, and the lean muscles under his uniform.

  He smiles, “Well, they called in more of us last night, but we mostly stay out of your way in the guard shack near the entrance. It’s very safe here; we try to keep it that way but still be unobtrusive. Are you out of class for a reason? Do you need something that I can help you with?” he offers politely.

  “Uh, no. Just headed to the ladies’ room.” I start to walk away from him, towards the nearest restroom.

  “Are you sure that’s all?” he presses me, taking a step forward, “You seemed pretty upset when you came out. I really am here to help, with whatever you need.”

  “No, no, I’m fine.” It’s a small lie, but I have just met this man—he doesn’t need to hear about my problems. Even if his eyes do make me want to confess it all. They are a deep, dark blue, and it feels like I’m compelled to lean into them for a closer look. Pull it together, Sadie. I mentally chastise myself. I smile politely at him and turn again for the bathroom.

  I take a few moments to splash cool water on my face, and take a few deep breaths. I am stronger than this situation, and no matter what curve balls they throw at me, I am not going to buckle. I am a Taylor. If I could survive growing up in a small town with six big brothers, I can survive this. With that final thought, I straighten my braid in the mirror, turn on the heel of my boot, and shut the door firmly behind me. Chin up, Sadie. Give ‘em hell.

  As I approach the classroom door, I see Patrick standing a little way down the hall, alert but not uneasy. He really is a handsome man. If our matches are half as good looking, I don’t think any of us would complain. He’s got a really strong bone structure, and an honest face. Plus, you know, biceps the size of my head don’t hurt, either. He raises a hand in a small wave, and I realize I’ve been caught checking him out. I quickly toss up a return wave and let myself back into the classroom, cheeks burning red. Thankfully the video is still playing, and the lights are dimmed so no one will notice

  I can’t help but wonder why they feel the need to guard us, but that’s another problem for another day.

  ✽✽✽

  After the second day, the week takes on a monotonous pattern: wake up to windchimes, dress, eat with the girls, attend classes, lunch break, more classes, dinner, exercise regimen, fall into bed. I told everyone at dinner that night about the handsome guard, but we didn’t see him or any others after that day, so clearly they didn’t intend for us to know they were there. Jenna and Josephine are both convinced their sole purpose is to stop us from trying to run away, or else why would they hide them from us?

  Faith then told us that a girl from her Winnipeg group had tried to run and didn’t come back after her attempt, so they assumed she’d been successful at the time. Now, we had to suspect they’d just taken her somewhere else. Was there a New Life Center for girls who caused trouble? Who would want to take on a wife that was a known runaway? All these questions we discussed at length, but had no answers to. We probably would never know, as we’d made it to the last day of our training week now, and all we’d learned was a thorough accounting of human reproduction, including reproductive assistance technology and procedures we might need to help with conception, and all of the laws we were expected to abide by that regarded reproduction in the NAA, which was what they were recapping for us now.

  “Ever since the Sterilization Vector was released, birth control has been illegal. As such, we take sex in all forms very seriously. There is no longer protection available to prevent STDs, STIs, or any other communicable disease, because those all prevent pregnancy as well. You are not to ever engage in a sexual relationship with anyone except your husband, and in order to join the program, he signed a binding agreement to be exclusive with you as well, for the term of the agreement. Nevertheless, you’ve all received screening as part of your intake testing, and will be screened throughout your time in this program at regular intervals,” the nurse states, “A healthy, full-term pregnancy is our ultimate goal here, and these rules are in place to protect your future children. Society needs you to stay healthy, and this is how it must be done.”

  Jo snorts from her seat but is ignored by the nurse at this point; it’s been a long week. I agree with her sentiment, though. It’s not like any of us agreed to any of this. Society needs you. That’s a pleasantly misleading way for them to put it.

  “There are severe penalties for any person breaking these laws and intending to prevent a pregnancy or have an illicit affair, and I’d strongly encourage you not to find out what those entail. Trust me when I tell you, no man is worth that.” She looks down briefly, and the first hint of emotion she’s shown this whole week briefly flits across her face before she schools her features again.

  Elena raises her hand, “Something’s been bothering me. If scientists were able to create the Sterilization Vector to begin with, why can’t our scientists now just switch it back? Create something new, as a treatment?”

  The nurse frowns, but it seems like a reasonable question to me.

  “Scientists in the past discovered that a gene therapy could be used to provide birth control, and essentially turn off your ability to reproduce. At the time, it was hailed as a leap forward for men and women who were done expanding their families. It started off small, and was touted for its safety and lack of side effects compared to other methods of birth control. What started out as a medical marvel, fell into the wrong hands.”

  That’s the thing about humans, we can turn almost anything into a weapon.

  “A group of environmental extremists got their hands on the therapy, and weaponized the delivery vector so that instead of only going to one patient, it would spread like the common cold. Then they put it into the water supply all over the globe. By the time doctors realized that more and more couples were turning up for fertility treatments with unexplained issues, the damage was already done. The majority of the world’s population had been spreading the genetic virus, symptom free, for months.”

  She pauses the grim recounting of our history, and looks down for a moment.

  “In the years since, birth rates have stayed significantly lower than they were before the genetic modification. Scientists’ best efforts have allowed some bir
ths to happen, but now only two people who are near-perfect genetic complements have any chance of conception. As a result, gene therapy is now illegal, and it has been widely agreed that further tampering with reproductive genes could worsen the situation. “

  She clears her throat, “Now, that is the last of the material we have to cover for you this week, so you have officially completed your future mother’s training! Congratulations, and I hope the information serves you well.” Someone mutters, “Thank God,” but I can’t place who it was before the nurse continues, “If you’ll all head to the main dining hall, Eric and Dr. Mitch will be waiting with some news on the next phase of the process.”

  Great, my two favorite people. This week just keeps getting better.

  Spreading the News

  The ten of us file into the main dining hall, and our moods are pretty light since we’re finally done with the least interesting training videos known to woman-kind. “I’m just saying, for videos about reproduction, they were the least sexy things I’ve ever seen,” Jenna reiterates for at least the tenth time this week.

  I groan, “Jenna, would you let it be? It’s finally over. Let’s all move on and pretend it never happened.”

  She, of course, doesn’t let it drop. “Okay, but you can’t tell me we wouldn’t all be more interested if it wasn’t made to sound so . . . clinical. It’s bad enough we’re almost all going into this as virgins. It’s worse to think that the honeymoons we were promised are just going to be scheduled baby-making sessions. YAWN. Can’t they at least let us have a little excitement in this whole process? No, just me?” She looks around for support, but none is forthcoming. “Y’all are no fun!” She finally lets it drop.

  Eric has clearly caught the tail end of this conversation, as he stands and clears his throat uncomfortably. “Ladies! How are we this afternoon? Excited to be done with your training program?”

  A few of the girls nod, but the rest of us just wait for him to tell us why we’re here. Once he realizes that none of us are going to answer him, he breaks the news. “Well, tonight is the big night! I hope you’ve all packed a nice dress, because tonight is the night you meet your matches!” We collectively suck in our breaths at that, which only amps him up further, “That’s right, at least one of you has more than one match to choose from.”

  Dear God, please let it be me. Please don’t let them saddle me with just one terrible option. I feel selfish even thinking it, as no one in this group deserves to be saddled with a bad option. But I hope I have at least one choice, regardless. Please be someone that will fit in with my family, please, please, please. I glance around at the others, and see that we’re all processing in different ways. The youngest girls look excited again, whereas Charlotte looks resigned, and Faith actually has a hopeful smile. I am sure I’ve got a look of dread, but I’m trying to school my face into something neutral, if not positive.

  “You have two hours to prepare to meet your future husbands. If any of you do not have something suitable for the occasion, a few racks of dresses have been assembled upstairs in the wardrobe room, down the right hallway. Feel free to choose anything you’d like for the occasion. Everyone except Beth-Ann and Charlotte, you are dismissed.”

  Beth-Ann and Charlotte both freeze, looking at each other, and back to Eric, “Is everything all right?” Charlotte asks quietly.

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure all is well. Dr. Mitch needs to speak with you each privately before you prepare for your evening.” He gestures to the doctor, who’s been standing silently this whole time.

  “Beth-Ann, I’d like to speak with you first. If you don’t mind coming to the conference room with me.” Beth-Ann peels her fingers off of Charlotte’s hand, which she’d been gripping tightly, before slowly following the doctor out of the dining hall.

  Margaret is the first to leave, “Two hours? I’m supposed to meet my husband for the first time and you’re only giving me two hours to get ready! This is ridiculous. I smell like a stale classroom—I’m not waiting around for the rest of you.” She moves out the door the fastest I’ve ever seen her go. I shake my head at her retreating back. I’m in no hurry to meet my fate, so I’m going to wait with Charlotte.

  The other girls start to trail after her, Jenna turns back when she realizes I’m not with them. “Sadie, you coming?”

  “No, I’ll wait for Charlotte and Beth-Ann. It won’t take me two hours to get ready. You go on ahead.”

  “Suit yourself!” She turns and catches up with the rest of the group.

  “Do you have any idea what they want to talk to you about?” I ask Charlotte.

  “Not the faintest. God, I’m sure it’s something bad. What if I can’t have a baby? What if something is wrong with me? Can you get kicked out of this program for being defective?” She is starting to panic.

  “Hey, it’s going to be ok! Try to stay calm, we don’t know what we don’t know. I’m sure it’s nothing major—maybe he just has a question about your family history or something. And I don’t think any of us are getting off the hook, even if we do have issues trying to get pregnant. I mean, the whole world has issues now, right?” I try to reassure her, but she doesn’t look any calmer.

  We wait in tense silence for about ten minutes, just the two of us since Eric wandered off shortly after delivering his “great news.” Finally, we hear two sets of footsteps in the hallway, and a pale Beth-Ann and Dr. Mitch come back into the dining hall.

  “I’m ready for you now, Charlotte,” Dr. Mitch says casually, looking down at his tablet again. She shoots me one last look of terror, before disappearing through the door with him.

  Beth-Ann doesn’t even make it over to me. She plops into the closest chair and puts her head in her hands. I quickly walk over and crouch next to her.

  “What happened, Beth-Ann? Is everything okay? What did he say to you?” I rub the side of her arm, but she doesn’t look up.

  She starts to sniffle and leans against my shoulder. For a minute we just sit like that, her sniffling and leaning against me, before she finally manages to speak, “Well, he said there were some things in my health file that he needed to review with me, because some of my results were unexpected.”

  “Okay, is everything all right?” I encourage her to continue.

  “Well, actually, yes. Turns out, I’m already pregnant,” she says quietly. I’m shocked speechless for a moment, and she looks up at me with teary eyes. “It’s Phil’s. I guess we’re a genetic match after all.”

  “Oh Beth-Ann, that’s . . . I don’t even know what to say! Are you happy? Are you in trouble? What’s going to happen with you being matched tonight?” I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry with her, given the situation.

  “Well, he asked me if I knew who the father was, and I said yes. He asked if the father was Phil, and since they already knew who he was, I said yes. I guess they have more information on us than we thought, since they knew about him. They said typically men aren’t eligible to be matched so quickly after signing up but given the current situation they were going to make an exception and put my original match back into the pool. They didn’t want word getting out that someone who was matched was already pregnant, so I don’t know what they’ll tell the guy, whoever he is.”

  I nod, since it sounds like that’s the best possible option for Beth-Ann and Phil. “So, they’re not going to penalize you, or cause you any trouble?” After the stern lecture we’d gotten from the nurse on illegal relationships, I don’t know what to expect but I’m worried for her nonetheless.

  “He said since Phil signed up for the program, they’ll just let the match take place given we obviously were able to get pregnant, and that’s the end goal. However, Phil technically has the chance to veto the match if he rejects that the baby could be his. I don’t know what they’d do in that case, but Phil would never do that to me.” She drags in a shaky breath, “But, they are going to bring up our marriage ceremony to tonight. And we don’t get to go to a honeymoon destination, we’ll be
going straight to a pregnancy center for monitoring.”

  I give her a squeeze around the shoulders and lean back so I can see her better. “How do you feel about that? I know you and Phil wanted to be together, but that is a lot and it is fast.”

  She nods, “It is fast, but he’s the one, Sadie. I’m sure of it. I’m mostly still in shock that I’m pregnant. Can you believe it? I have been feeling crappy, but I just assumed it was from the stress of leaving Phil and going through all of this.”

  I’d noticed her not eating much, but I had assumed the same thing she had. They tell us pregnancy is next to impossible, so nobody would jump to that conclusion in her situation. “So, you’re getting married tonight, to Phil. I guess that means that double congratulations are in order!”

  She finally smiles at that, but it dims after only a moment, “What if Phil’s mad? He definitely didn’t think any of this would happen so fast. I mean I know we’re supposed to have kids but I assumed it would take a couple years to get there. What if he’s not ready?”

  “I don’t think he would have signed up to try and match with you if he weren’t ready for any possibility. He’s such a genuine guy, I’m sure it’s going to be okay. Just wait until you see him in a few hours, and I’m sure everything will click right back into place.” At least I hope so, for her sake. I can’t believe she’s actually pregnant!

  She looks lost in thought for a moment, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway breaks our bubble, signaling the return of Charlotte and Dr. Mitch.

  “I wonder what they wanted from Charlotte. You don’t think she’s already pregnant, too, do you?” Beth-Ann asks me.

  “No, somehow I doubt it. She didn’t mention a boyfriend, or anyone from home actually.” I respond.

  Charlotte walks back in alone, looking shell-shocked and deflated, much like Beth-Ann. She woodenly walks over to us, and sits in the chair right next to Beth-Ann. Her chin wobbles as if she might cry, but she doesn’t.