“I just want to know what to expect,” I say through gritted teeth. “What my life is going to be like.”
“You’ve had your life, Eve. We’ve given you everything: entertainment, education, a friend. Just look at this place, this world we’ve made for you. Now it’s time for you to give back. You do your duty. You bear us a future of girls, and you’ll live your life doing much the same as before.”
“And what kind of future will they have?”
“Best not to concern yourself with that,” Vivian quips, her eyes rolling with annoyance. “You need to play your part in Destiny’s game first.”
Destiny. I repeat the word in my head a few times. Destiny. What is my destiny? Is it my destiny to be treated like a breeding bitch for everyone else’s benefit? Or is the fact that Bram found me and that we shared such a strong connection, despite being separated by a man-made illusion, part of it? Perhaps Mother Nature will toy with us again and stop us humans from making the same mistakes. From intervening in her plans for us.
Mistakes.
I’ve always known I’m lumbered with a huge responsibility, but the thinking behind any decisions surrounding my mission has never been mine. It’s never been about me. But what if Mother Nature chose for me to be laden with this duty for a reason? What if Bram and I were meant to meet? What if this is all about free will and the beauty of human nature? The power of instinct.
Mistakes.
I’ve always wanted this course of treatment to fail, but what if it succeeds? Will I have failed in my destiny?
Mistakes.
I can’t stop thinking about my children and the lives they will lead. More than that, I wonder what my parents would think if they could see me now. Would they have wanted this life for me? Would they have chosen it?
Mistakes.
I know my mom would be mortified to see me like this, just as I will be to see any daughters of mine lying on this bed in years to come.
“I said you can go,” Vivian barks at me, bringing my focus back into the room. “We’ll call for you when you’re needed again.”
The procedure is over. Dr. Rankin has already gone, taking my egg to be fertilized, to start the process of life. Even before it’s put back inside me, that little being has started its own journey to becoming a real person.
Mistakes.
It’s time to test the world they’ve made for me.
48
BRAM
We sail away from Central. Travel is slow as we avoid areas patrolled by the EPO, which means staying out of sight as much as we can. It was easier where the buildings were tall and the river and canals between them were busy. Out here, these pods stand out. We don’t want any attention.
As the buildings become less frequent, sections of sloppy mud break the surface, with an occasional patch of dull green sprouting. The heads of the twelve men who make up our team are turned toward the grassy mounds: they’re staring at this rare sight.
“Tree!” Chubs calls, waving at the barely visible leaves just poking through the mist ahead.
“Not far,” Frost says. There’s no need to use the intercom as our engines are near silent now that we’re sailing so slowly and so close together.
As the pollution mist clears, more trees appear ahead of us, stepping out of the fog like the ghosts of a time we left behind, a time we destroyed.
A great barricade emerges ahead, stretching as far as I can see on either side.
“It’s the boundary,” grunts Frost. “This is as far as the EPO want you to come.”
As the mist clears I see those three letters again—EPO, surrounded by warnings. Radiation. Explosives. Toxic waste. You name it, the sign is there, plastered all over the rusted metal barricade.
“Inviting,” Chubs jokes.
“Is it safe?” Saunders asks.
We stare at the fog beyond the border, tinged with a slight green hue.
“Looks safe enough for trees,” I reply.
“ ’Course it’s bloody safe.” Frost laughs. “This is all smoke and mirrors, kid. The EPO trying to keep us in one place, where they can watch us.”
“Move on.” I signal and our pods press forward, floating through the large gaps between the partially submerged barricade.
The farther we go, the more we feel Mother Nature reaching out to us. Only the tops of the taller trees are visible at the moment, their highest branches piercing the surface, like arms stretching up to a sun that barely shines, a few dull green leaves fluttering from them. Mother Nature is tough.
Through the floodwater beneath us I see a sunken street, the red tiles of rooftops, the black paint of streetlights. Farther down there’s a bench, now wrapped in reeds and plant life.
“The water’s pretty clear here,” I say to Saunders.
“Fewer people, less pollution,” he explains, and I nod as a school of fish swims underneath our pods, still visible through the glass floor.
I take a breath of air. Real air. It hasn’t been filtered or tampered with. It isn’t full of pesticides and chemicals to sterilize it. Just simple, natural air. It feels wonderful and cold in my lungs.
Suddenly our pod jolts and I’m thrown forward, just managing to stop my face from smashing against the front handrail. I stand and see everyone else recovering.
“We’ve hit land,” I call as I catch sight of the watery earth pressed up against the glass pod beneath my feet. “We can walk from here.”
We jump into the knee-deep water, our boots and waterproof flood suits keeping out the wet but not the cold. It’s uncomfortable but not unbearable. We group together in the bow of the leading pod, where Johnny, the most eager member of my new team, is reading a handheld GPS unit.
“How old is that thing?” I ask.
“Older than any of us, but it’s reliable and can’t be traced by the drones,” Johnny says through the strands of hair covering his face, not taking his eyes off the old-fashioned touchscreen display. “We’re about a mile from where that photo was taken, if the building still exists.”
“It’s right there on the map,” says Chubs, pointing at it, clearly visible in the bird’s-eye view on Johnny’s GPS.
“Yeah, but these maps are BE, about forty years old, dumbass. Look, there’s no floodwater,” he says.
“All right, all right, let’s keep our heads together. We don’t know exactly what we’re walking into here,” I say to them, taking the GPS from Johnny.
“Sorry, sir,” he says nervously.
“It’s okay,” I reassure him. I wish he’d stayed in the Deep—his youth and his keenness to impress me aren’t helpful. “Let’s move in single file. I’ll lead,” I say, and set off toward the little red blip on the GPS monitor.
As we walk, the ground under our feet rises and falls, the depth of the water varying from ankle- to waist-deep. The closer we get, the more trees rise before us. Before we know it we’re walking along an old man-made path. It’s like nothing any of us has ever seen before.
The men walk silently, taking it all in, everything seeming calm.
I kick something hard floating in the water. I turn it over with my foot.
“It’s a signpost.” Saunders passes it down the line following us.
“ ‘Grim’s Ditch,’ ” I read aloud. “This is the place. We’re here.”
I look ahead and see a break in the trees off the path to the right. As we approach, my heart is pounding.
“There it is,” I whisper. A gentle wind is blowing through the deep green leaves of the tree I’ve stared at for years. Now that I’m here it’s even more beautiful, despite the surrounding conditions: the gray skies and the foot of water it now stands in. It’s still as elegant and graceful as I could ever have hoped it would be.
I step closer, remove my glove, and touch its rough, damp bark. The Freevers gr
oup around me and admire it too. No one can deny the majesty of a tree, especially one that has survived these conditions, stood its ground against everything humans have thrown at it. It makes me think of Eve.
“We’re not alone,” Chubs says, noticing a figure standing in the doorway of the brick building, about twenty meters away from us. “It’s a woman.”
The men scramble to get a clearer view.
“Calm yourselves,” Frost orders, fierce and authoritative. He shoots me a look.
Helena was right. It’s a sanctuary.
“You are not permitted to be here,” she calls to us across the flooded pathway. She is concealed beneath a long gown, and her gray hair is cut short. “You must leave at once.”
Frost looks at me. “Well…Captain?” he says quietly. “You wanted to lead us.”
I take a step toward the frail woman.
“I warn you, this is a sanctuary. We are legally protected.”
“Miss, I apologize for turning up like this. I know it’s against protocol, but we’re soldiers from the EPO.”
She stares at me. Her watery blue eyes twitch from my face to my rain gear to the gun hanging over my shoulder.
I slowly pull it off and she instantly raises a shotgun concealed beneath her robes.
The men behind me raise their weapons at her.
“Whoa!” I cry, turning my back on the old woman, raising my arms at the Freevers. “Weapons down. Now!”
They hesitate, their eyes flicking from their target to Frost.
“You heard him, men. Weapons down,” Frost says. “Apologies…sir.” He flashes my arm a subtle look and I understand instantly what our next move is.
“Let’s start again. I am Captain Bram Wells, a senior officer at the Extinction Prevention Organization.” I start taking small steps toward the old woman, her wrinkles becoming more defined the closer I get. I turn my weapon around and offer it to her. “We’re here to collect something that belongs to us.”
She pauses, gun still aimed at my chest. Her eyes search mine deeply, searching for truth.
I slowly unzip my heavy waterproof jacket, not losing eye contact with her. I open it and reveal the name badge on my EPO jumpsuit.
She takes a moment to read it and think. “Wells?” she asks.
I nod.
“As in Dr. Isaac?” she says.
My heart skips. She knows my father. We’re in the right place.
“My father,” I explain, and I see her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath, then releases it.
“You scared the hell out of us, showing up unannounced. There’s a schedule for visits for a reason, you know. I could have blown your head off, young man,” she says as she lowers her gun.
“I’m sorry this is unscheduled. It’s something of an emergency. We need to see him. Is he here?” I ask, and she turns to look at me suspiciously.
“Is he here? Of course he’s here. Where else is he going to be?” she asks, but before I can answer, she speaks again: “Well, I don’t know why they always send so many of you. You know the protocol here, two men at a time. Leave your weapons at the door.” She turns and steps inside the house.
I look at Frost and beckon him over with a nod. He takes off his gun and hands it to Saunders, then comes across to me.
“So far so good,” I whisper.
“Keep your wits about you, kid. If he’s really here, this place is going to be watched by more than an old lady with a shotgun,” he replies as we step over a wall of sandbags and follow her into the sanctuary.
49
EVE
We stand in silence for a few moments, once the doctor and Vivian have left. I need time to process how I’m feeling. I close my legs, my hospital gown rustling as I slip off the table, and find myself clutching Mother Kadi’s shoulder.
Her dainty arms are crossed over her body, but her hand finds mine and pats it gently.
“Well done,” she whispers sympathetically, her eyes telling me she understands how I feel after such an invasive procedure. I’m glad that’s the case, but she doesn’t know what’s going on in my head. Yes, I feel violated, but the fire that was already lit within me is roaring now. The flames flicker and burst, telling me it’s time.
I turn to make my way back to my safe haven of a bedroom, but before I can leave, my eye is caught by something.
“I want a shower,” I say to Mother Kadi.
“Of course. Let’s go back to your room.” She’s gathering the clothes I discarded earlier.
“No. Here will do,” I tell her, walking to the shower in the corner.
Before she can advise me not to, I yank off my gown, tossing it to the side in my hatred for everything it represents. It drops to the floor in a crumpled heap.
“Wash my hair,” I say, glancing back at her confused face. I open the glass door to the shower and twist on the water. My body tingles as I walk under the jet and feel the hot water running over my skin.
She’s with me in seconds, her fingers running through my hair and massaging my scalp.
“Where are the labs?” I whisper, loud enough for only her to hear, while being careful not to look directly at her.
“Sorry,” I hear her mumble, having been caught off guard. We’re not in my room now. Perhaps she doesn’t feel quite so safe revealing things she shouldn’t, but I need to know now—while I can potentially act on my findings.
“The doctor, where would she have gone? This level?” I hiss.
All I hear for a few seconds is the water splashing in the cubicle.
I’m about to ask again when I hear her soft reply: “Outside. Turn right. Third door on the left.”
“And my spot by the stream?” I ask, looking up at her.
Mother Kadi’s eyes widen, not in a way that tells me she’s surprised I’m asking the question, but rather that I’m asking at this particular moment.
“I need to be sure it’s not another lie,” I tell her.
“Level eight hundred. All of it,” she says quickly.
My jaw clenches as I look away from her. It’s not even near ground level. “How can I get there?”
“The elevator.”
“There’s no chance of that,” I say dismissively.
“This place was built for you,” she hisses. “Just say the number.”
I think I must’ve misheard her, but her tone fills me with confidence.
“But, Eve, they’ll come after you. They’ll—”
“Let them,” I say firmly, trying to work out the best course of action.
“Let me come with you.”
“No. Absolutely not,” I say, looking up at her earnest face.
She lowers her head sadly in agreement and I bow mine in return. She doesn’t need to be more involved than I’ve already made her.
She washes the suds out of my hair. I’m grateful for her speed. I need to act fast and I know she understands.
Once I’m out of the shower, Mother Kadi wraps me in a white towel and I feel her squeezing my arms tightly as she dries me. I’m not sure whether it’s offered as encouragement or a warning, but I’m hoping it’s the former.
My legs shake as I step into my panties, then the khaki dress she holds out for me. I try to move quickly, but without making it look like I’m rushing; someone could be watching. I can’t be seen to act frantically or out of character. I don’t want to raise suspicion or attract attention any sooner than necessary.
I swoop my wet hair into a topknot while Mother Kadi helps me with my knee-high black boots.
“Did I leave my necklace in the shower?” I ask her.
“What necklace?” she asks, looking suitably confused. I rarely wear jewelry.
“Will you have a look for me? It’s the one with my birthstone on it,” I say, my hand going to my chest as th
ough it’s a treasured possession.
She doesn’t even frown as she goes along with what I’ve asked.
As soon as she steps into the cubicle I shut it after her, pulling a unit of medical equipment across to block her exit.
“Eve,” she whispers, her open palm resting against the glass between us, her eyes wide and shiny.
“Sorry,” I mumble, then turn and head for the door. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but it’s the only way I can be sure they won’t think she’s in on it.
I catch sight of myself in the reflection of the mirrored wall and see the determination on my face. I don’t know how the panic I’m experiencing isn’t displayed there, because my insides are churning at the thought of what I want to achieve in the next couple of minutes. Seeing the look on my face spurs me on.
I’m stronger than I know.
I can do this.
I turn the handle and open the door. My heart is in my mouth as I step out into what has become the unknown, expecting to see someone waiting there or a crowd of security guards stopping me from going any farther. Instead there is nothing but the sterile blue corridor I walked along earlier.
I turn right and pass the third door on the left, where I now know the lab is. I have to do something else first.
I go straight to the elevator. It’s already waiting when I get to it, but when I step inside and a robotic voice asks where to, I say words I’ve never said before.
“Level eight hundred. My garden,” I hear myself say.
“As you wish, Eve.”
The doors close and my heart spins at the realization that we are traveling downward. It doesn’t swell like it usually does when I’m on the way to my little spot outside. Instead it tightens in trepidation of what I’ll find there.
The journey takes a couple of minutes, as long as it usually does when I’m permitted to “go outside,” but the only journeys I have to compare it with are those to the encounters and for examinations, both of which must take place far closer to where they keep me, because they take just a few seconds.
Eve of Man Page 27
