Flip (The Slip Trilogy Book 3)

by David Estes

  “Fine, but—” This time it’s Harrison who tries to interrupt, but she plows right through his words.

  “Your father did some really bad stuff. I hated him for it, still hate him for it, but he never stopped visiting me, even when I gave him plenty of reasons not to. And he never stopped loving you both, even if he wasn’t supposed to. He’s sacrificed everything for us, and he thinks his soul might be damned because of it—and maybe it is—but he’s done enough. It’s my turn to do something for him.”

  Benson’s in awe of his mother, her words flowing from her mouth with an ease he’s never heard since he was reunited with her. Maybe the uneven rows of thoughts in her head are straighter than she thinks. Maybe they’ve all underestimated her. He doesn’t want to say it, but he has to. “It’s your choice, Mom.” Harrison fires him a scathing look, but doesn’t interject again, turning his attention expectantly to their mother.

  “I’m going,” she says.

  “No you’re not,” her husband croaks from the cot. Benson was so caught up in his mother’s speech he didn’t even notice his father shifting in his sleep, his eyes opening.

  “Michael,” Janice breathes, moving over to him. As his mom reaches out and touches his face, so delicately, as if she’s stroking something as fragile as a butterfly’s wing, Benson feels as if he’s intruding on a moment so private it should be locked away in a safe.

  “You can’t die for me,” Michael says. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  Calmly, but not forcefully, Janice says, “Wrong,” and strokes his other cheek. “Family doesn’t go one way. It goes every way. We help each other, we protect each other, and we die for each other, if that’s what it takes.”

  Benson bites his lip as he sees tears well in his father’s eyes. The only other time he saw his father cry, when Benson was only a boy, it scared the hell out of him. Looking back, he knows he should’ve been comforted by his father’s emotion. It meant he cared. It meant his soul wasn’t damned, that he felt remorse for his sins, for the atrocities he allowed to happen so that he could carry out a plan bigger than himself and his own family.

  “No,” his father says to his mother. “I can’t. I can’t lose you again. Any of you. Nothing is worth that.”

  Janice strokes his hair, kisses his forehead. Harrison stands and moves to her side, resting a hand on her shoulder. “This is worth it,” he says. “This is worth risking everything. You’re staying and we’re going.”

  And though Benson doesn’t know his father’s stubbornness as well as Harrison does, he sees the moment the resignation sets in and his father’s will cracks, broken just like his tired body.

  “I love you,” he says, and his words fill the room, encompassing all of them. For Janice, it’s a reminder and a memory. For Harrison, it’s a kept promise. And for Benson, it’s a statement of undeniable truth.

  ~~~

  “I like your new hairdo,” Destiny says, reaching out to stroke Harrison’s spikes.

  “Really?” Harrison says, frowning.

  “Yeah. Now we both have crazy hair.”

  Harrison’s gray eyes shine. “She likes you,” he says, watching as Lola licks Destiny’s hand.

  It tickles and Destiny laughs, the sensation feeling so foreign to her that she almost can’t believe it’s real. “She’s adorable.”

  “She’s ferocious.” Although he’s already told her the story of how this little bundle of fur saved him and Simon from a bot, she still finds it hard to believe.

  “Sometimes love makes us do crazy things,” she says, and she knows she’s not talking only about Lola. She hopes she’s not just talking about herself either.

  “It does,” Harrison says, stroking her hand where Lola just licked it. “But we’ve only just met. It seems too soon for love.”

  There’s a smile playing on his lips, and she knows he’s teasing her. Although Lola’s tail is wagging in her face while her tongue laps at his mouth, this conversation has nothing to do with the BotDog. Suddenly the privacy of the upstairs room feels terrifyingly intimate, despite their furry friend between them.

  “I’ve heard that sharing intense situations can speed up emotions,” she says.

  Harrison smiles fully now, and he’s so beautiful, like a sunrise meeting a sunset. Her heart is bursting from her chest, and she can’t possibly stop herself from leaning forward, past Lola, and kissing him. The electricity between them is palpable, and what begins as a tender embrace quickly turns fierce with hunger, her hand grasping the back of his head and pulling him closer, closer…and yet still he’s not close enough. Lola barks and scurries out of the way, scrambling from the room.

  Harrison mumbles something witty about how much he likes the robot’s programming, but her lips don’t care about that, because she needs him and she can tell he needs her too. Like air in their lungs and blood in their veins.

  And when they finally pull away, they’re both gasping and laughing, their arms around each other. “Holy geez,” Harrison says. “Where did that come from?”

  “From you,” she says, biting her bottom lip.

  “You—” His eyes paint hers, as if searching for something—some truth.

  “What is it?”

  “You’re okay?”

  Oh. God. She’d let herself forget the past. She’d imagined it away, lost in her passion, in the love she feels for Harrison Kelly, the boy who saved her more times than she saved him.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

  “You didn’t,” she says. “And I’m okay.” She knows she can’t change the past, and that sometimes the present seems more out of her control than ever. But she knows it doesn’t define her. Only the future can define the person she truly is; and that’s up to her.

  “You are?” She doesn’t blame him for the doubt in his tone. He’s been with her at the bottom, dragged her out of that pit of despair. And maybe she’s not out of it for good, but she is out of it for now. This time she pulled herself out, and she knows she’ll keep clawing her way to the top, until the stones and dirt she kicks down behind her fills that hole, allowing her to stand on her own two feet again.

  “I learned something,” she says.

  He raises an eyebrow, which she likes. She likes surprising him. “Care to share?”

  “I thought I needed a purpose for living. For a while it was the thought of redemption, of making up for my mistakes, for saving lives to atone for the lives my actions had cost.” Harrison opens his mouth to speak, but she presses a finger to his lips. He kisses it, but stays silent. “Later, you were my reason. I wanted to protect you. This might surprise you, but I sought out the Destroyer before I knew he had your father. I was already there.”

  She waits for the eyebrow to go up, but it doesn’t. “That doesn’t surprise me,” Harrison says. “It’s what I would’ve done.”

  She nods, feeling their connection growing by the second. “But then I realized that life is a gift that can’t be replaced. Life is the purpose. Life is always worth it, no matter how terrible you feel, no matter what mistakes you've made, or others have made. This world isn’t for running. It’s for standing. It’s for fighting. I almost killed myself, yeah, and that was a huge mistake. But you saved me. You thought I was worth saving, even if it took me longer to figure out you were right.”

  She shakes her head, fighting off the emotion welling to the surface. “But that mistake isn’t who I am and it doesn’t predict my future. My parents died so I could live, and I won’t throw their sacrifice away, no matter what I’ve done, no matter how far I’ve fallen. Never again. I know that now.”

  Harrison’s arms surround her and she folds into his warmth, allowing his comfort to touch every part of her body, to fill the holes and imperfections in her soul, even as she does the same for him. They’ll never be perfect, neither of them, but together they are.

  Together they are whole again.

  ~~~

  Article from the Saint Lou
is Times:

  The Department of Population Control Announces Completion of Major Systems Upgrade

  Today Pop Con announced the on-schedule completion of a five year project to upgrade their major data systems. According to analysts, one of the major benefits of the new system are the in-built disaster recovery protocols, including redundancies designed to protect population control data. “Although my hand in the project was small, I’m proud of what our dedicated employees achieved,” Charles Boggs said. “Our nation can count on Pop Con to protect the sanctity of citizen records and birth authorizations for decades to come.”

  In other news, the sold out Sonic Boom concert already has fans lining up for three city blocks. What has been dubbed ‘The Concert of the Century’ will be a major reprieve for a city in need of some fun.

  Have a comment on this article? Speak them into your holo-screen now. NOTE: All comments are subject to government screening. Those comments deemed to be inappropriate or treasonous in nature will be removed immediately and appropriate punishment issued.

  Comments:

  SonicBoomFan#1: I’m 6th in line!

  TheSonicBoomFan: Please please please play Superhighway to Mars. Best. Song. Evah!

  MusicLuver: Thank bots this concert wasn’t cancelled, I would’ve cried for days. 4 real.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  To Benson, time has become the enemy. He can feel every second tick away with the beats of his heart, the minutes disappear like raindrops evaporating on a hot summer’s day, the hours vanishing into a mindless black hole, never to resurface again. The enemy—time—might very well be stealing his last memories of his family, who are sleeping right through it.

  He sits by his father, watching him breathe, watching the comforting rise and fall of his chest. Moonlight tumbles through a window, painting an icy sheen on Michael Kelly’s face. He almost looks angelic. It’s a wonder to Benson how everyone looks the same when they’re sleeping. Not in terms of features, but in innocence and emotion. Peaceful. Calm. Unthreatening. From the greatest warrior to the meekest lamb, we’re not that different when we sleep.

  His father’s eyes flutter open, confused for a moment, but then settling on Benson. A lazy smile forms on his lips. “You should be getting some rest,” he says.

  “Can’t sleep,” Benson says. “Tomorrow is too important, and I don’t want to waste the time I have left.” With you, he adds in his head.

  Michael’s smile fades, and Benson thinks he might rekindle his argument about whether he or Janice should go, but instead he says, “There’s something I have to tell you. Not just you. Harrison too. And your mother.”

  Benson doesn’t like the sound of that. There have already been so many secrets between them, most kept by his father, and he doesn’t know if they can take another. “Dad, whatever it is, leave it until after the mission. We don’t need any distractions.”

  “But what if that’s too late?” His father’s eyes search his face, as if he’s hiding the answer somewhere in his expression.

  “We’re coming back,” Benson says defiantly.

  “There are things that are out of your control. I’ve learned that the hard way more times than I can count. Tragedy is a major part of the world we live in. You can’t run from it, can’t hide from it, can only face it head on and hope it doesn’t take everything from you.” Benson can almost see the flashes of memories flitting behind his father’s eyes, reminders of the swathe of destruction littered behind the path he’s taken.

  His father doesn’t have to warn him about tragedy. “Why didn’t you tell us yesterday?” Benson asks, trying not to think about those he’s already lost.

  “It’s not for Minda and Simon.”

  Benson sighs deeply and has the sudden urge to flee the room. “Can it wait until morning?”

  “It can, but this might be something worth sleeping on. Plus tomorrow you’ll need to focus on preparing for the mission.” There’s no room for argument in his father’s tone. Even in his weakest state, he still has the air of a leader who expects to be obeyed. No wonder he managed to fool so many people at Pop Con for so long.

  “I’ll get them,” Benson says.

  Harrison, with his arm draped over Destiny, looks like he wants to murder his twin when he nudges him awake. But when he hears their father’s request, he pries himself free and makes his way silently downstairs. Lola looks up sleepily, her robotic eyelids so well-programmed she could be a real dog, and watches Harrison go, but then nuzzles against Destiny and closes her eyes. Janice is far easier, her eyes popping open before he touches her, awake and alert, as if she was only pretending to sleep. She follows Benson to her husband’s bedside.

  Harrison is laughing at something their father said when Benson pulls up two more chairs. Gone is his brother’s icy anger toward Michael Kelly. It’s as if he realizes they’re all very lucky to be here together, regardless of the past. He’s starting over.

  When they’re all situated, an awkward quiet settles in. It feels weird, the three of them hovering around his father’s bed, as if saying their last goodbyes before he succumbs to some life-threatening ailment.

  “Spit it out, Dad,” Harrison says, breaking the silence.

  The uncertainty is written all over Michael’s face: His lips are thin and tight, his nostrils flaring slightly, his eyes searching for anywhere to look other than the faces of his family. “I’ve lived many lies,” he starts.

  “You think?” Harrison jokes. Though their father’s eyebrows lift, he doesn’t smile.

  “But there’s one bigger than the rest.” The ominousness of the statement seems to thicken the air, making breathing harder. Benson finds himself holding his breath in anticipation. What could be bigger than his father being the face of population control for so many years while trying simultaneously to destroy it and save his own illegal son’s life?

  As his father takes a deep breath, Benson notices the way Harrison is leaning forward, his weight shifting to his feet, as if preparing to run. Janice says, “You think I don’t know my own sons?”

  Michael seems completely caught off guard by the statement, raising a trembling hand to his mouth, tears flooding his eyes. Benson is confused, and clearly Harrison is, too, their eyes meeting in a shared look of bewilderment. “Mom?” Harrison says.

  “How did you know?” Michael says.

  “I’m their mother,” she says. “This is a secret, but not a real one. It was all random. It was all meaningless. This is silly.” Janice crosses her arms tightly across her chest.

  “But it wasn’t random,” Michael insists. “I chose. I didn’t let fate decide, like I should have.”

  Harrison stands, appearing as tall as a giant with the rest of them sitting. “Tell us what the hell you’re talking about.”

  Janice takes Harrison’s hand, pulling him back down into his chair. “We can go to sleep now. The past is a smudge, but we don’t have to smear it anymore.”

  “I want to hear it,” Benson says, surprised by the sound of his own voice. He didn’t mean to speak, the words rising so quickly and fiercely that he couldn’t stop them. But they’re true. He wants to hear the truth. He has to hear the truth, spoken from his father’s lips. Because he’s already guessed it, reading between the lines in his parent’s cryptic conversation.

  His father’s lips open. Close. Open again. “You were born two minutes apart,” he says.

  “We know,” Harrison says. “I guess I’ve always been a bit quicker than Bense.” It’s a tired old joke and Benson wishes his brother hadn’t said it now.

  Michael Kelly is shaking his head. “Not always. Not at the beginning.”

  He still hasn’t said the words and Benson feels like screaming. His twin is still confused, or perhaps clinging to what he wants to be the truth, a fact he’s built the last few weeks around.

  “Bense?” Harrison says, looking at him, his expression weighed down by anchors tied to his thick brows. “Do you have any clue what he’s saying?�
��

  Benson shakes his head, but not because he doesn’t know, because he can’t—or won’t—be the one to say it. And he knows he doesn’t need to, because his brother’s expression is already morphing from confusion to anger, sizzling beneath the surface.

  “You were—” Harrison says.

  “Yes,” Michael says. “Benson was born first. Two minutes before you were.”

  Harrison’s eyes are wide and wild. “No,” he whispers. “That’s not right. That can’t be. Because that would make me—I mean, I’m the…”

  “No,” Benson says. “There’s no such thing. Never was. And after tomorrow none of it will matter.” He can see the madness in his brother’s eyes, and he’s scared for him. He’s impulsive enough under normal circumstances, much less the significant stress of learning such an awful, awful truth.

  “I’m the Slip,” Harrison says, and it’s one part wonder, one part fear, and eight parts raw venom. He’s still staring at Benson. “You should…I never should have…we should…” Benson’s never heard his brother so at a loss for words, his silver tongue abandoning him.

  “It doesn’t change anything.”

  His brother’s jaw clenches as he whirls on their father. “It changes everything!” He’s on his feet, his well-muscled arms hanging restlessly at his sides.

  He spins back on Janice, who shrinks away, toward Benson, who puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You knew?”

  “A mother doesn’t confuse her children,” she says.

  Michael’s voice is repentant. “I’m sorry, Son. It was an impossible choice.”

  Although the tension in Harrison’s body seems to speak volumes, he’s only able to get a single word out. “Why?”

  Everything Benson knows about his father swirls together, forming the answer. “Because you were frail as a baby,” he says. “I was stronger. Dad thought I’d have a better chance of survival as a Slip.”