Clutch

by JA Huss

  Mrs. Baumer has left the bathroom while I was preoccupied with my new disability, and now I can hear her talking to Mr. Baumer down the hall. They're arguing about whether or not to let the military come get me. Mr. Baumer says no, and if they try he will shoot them before they get to the porch. I smile at that.

  Mrs. Baumer is trying to talk some sense into him when I enter the kitchen and they stop talking. Mr. Baumer is still holding the com tech and he leans in and whispers, "I'll call you back."

  "Junco, please sit down here, dear." He pulls a chair from the kitchen table for me to sit in. I do as I'm told. "They want to come get you, but I told them no. We'll drive you home ourselves when you're ready. Is that OK?" His eyes smile down at me and this gives me some courage.

  "Mr. Baumer, I need to ask you some questions." His happy face slides into sadness and he ushers Mrs. Baumer out, handing her a rifle from the kitchen counter and telling her to go keep watch for the military men. If she sees them, she's to nick -em in the knees when they come down the walkway. The kitchen door swings behind her as she leaves and Mr. Baumer stands there for a few seconds just looking at me.

  "What is it, Junco?" he finally says.

  "I don't even know where to start."

  "Try the beginning, dear."

  "This isn't about where I've been or what I've been doing, or even who had me."

  "No?" he replies, pulling up a chair next to me at the table.

  "I've been with the avian, I'm sure everyone knows that already. He's–"

  "He's what, dear?"

  "He told me some things," I say, looking over at him to gauge his reaction. "Things I don't want to believe to be true." Sweat is dripping down his face and he reaches in and produces a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his brow. "And since you were a Council Elder for, hell, I have no idea, most of my life..." His eyebrows go up at my cursing, but he stays silent. "I figure you'd be the best one to ask."

  "Ask, Junco," he says with the most serious face I've ever seen. And then his hand reaches over and takes mine, the one with the missing fingers. If he notices them, he doesn't show it, so I assume Mrs. Baumer didn't get around to telling him about how they became snack food. I sit there and struggle with the right question before choosing my words carefully. "Are you, or were you, involved in the secrets that surround my origins?"

  His mouth draws into a flat line across his face and he nods.

  "Am I human or avian?"

  At this he simply shrugs. "I don't know, Junco. I knew you were adopted but they have been telling me some wild stories over the past few days."

  "Stories like what?" I ask.

  "Stuff I refuse to believe," he says simply.

  I can relate. I can't believe them either.

  "I think we should take you home now. There are quite a few people there who want to talk to you. I'm sure they can answer your questions."

  He gets up but my good hand reaches out to take his arm. "Mr. Baumer, were my parents good people?"

  He sits back down. "Junco, I knew your dad from the day he was born. And your mother and our smallest daughter were best friends for years before your father proposed. Your parents loved you, and that's all I can say about the rumors that are floating around right now. They loved you. They were good, from what I knew of them. That's all I can say."

  "Did they both come from Farm Families?"

  He laughs at this one. "Yes, they both came from Farm Families."

  Finally, a confirmed lie from Tier. I feel a small bit of satisfaction to have proved this point wrong and since Mr. Baumer seems to be waiting for my next question, I ask another. "Did you know my father's friend Dale?"

  He looks me straight in the eye again. "I didn't, Junco. I can't vouch for him or answer to any of the things they are saying about the Stag right now. I'm sorry."

  "OK," I say, and begin to get up.

  But he stops me with a gentle hand. "I did think it was weird that your father took you out there all these years. The Stag is no place for children."

  My heart feels like it's being clenched with a fist.

  Maybe all the things Tier told me aren't true. Like maybe there aren't any monsters, and maybe I'm not an avian, or maybe I'm not going to die if I don't go with him to grow wings before I'm twenty, but some of what he told me about my life is true.

  I can feel it.

  We walk outside together and find Mrs. Baumer sitting on the porch swing with her rifle. She takes me by what's left of my bad hand and leads me to their farm truck. I climb in and slide over on the long seat bench and they each get in so I am sandwiched between them. We roll along the gravel drive slowly as we make our way towards my farm, but the only thing I'm wondering is whether or not Tier is watching me from above.

  My house couldn't be more different than the Baumers' little farmhouse. It is a third-quarter modern geometric, built last century, and is really nothing more than a hollow square with all the rooms along the perimeter, while the courtyard encompasses the entire middle interior. Not all geometric courtyards have domes, but ours does, housing the pool and a lush tropical landscape that oozes with humidity, regardless of the season or temperature outside.

  Out of habit I count the horses in the paddocks as the house comes into view from the back road and I know from the number that they are all out on pasture. Good. While there's not much grass left, it's better than them being cooped up in their stalls starving for the last week.

  Our barn is also a modern geometric based on the same design. It sits about a hundred yards back from the house. The stalls run the entire perimeter, while the interior, which is only a partial dome, houses the main arena. A breezeway separates the arena from the stall doors and when we pass it from the back, I can see all the way through to the other side.

  I study the house and surrounding grounds as we approach and I feel the excesses of my sheltered existence for the first time. If you compare our house to the Baumers' little farmhouse, there is a clear discrepancy of wealth, yet Mr. Baumer was a Council Elder for decades.

  I had never thought about how much money we did or didn't have before. Or whether or not I had more than others. But I can't get Tier's words out of my head. My parents were rewarded with wealth for their active participation. My excitement for discovering that they were not rewarded with the title of Farm Family is gone now. Obviously they got their title genetically, but that doesn't explain the wealth. My grandparents' homes were more along the line of the Baumers' little farmhouse. In fact, there were only a handful of Families that deviated from that template, and none of them had a house as different as ours. Someone built it, but it wasn't my father and mother because the house was almost seventy years old. So they acquired it along the way somehow.

  The activity at my house is indescribable chaos as we ramble slowly up the long driveway. There are people that are neither military nor neighbors and friends and this confuses me until Mr. Baumer says, "Who let the media in, for Jeremiah's sake?"

  They swarm the old truck, pushing at each other to get a look at me, their hands high in the air to try and get an overview shot, but Mr. Baumer, to his credit, keeps on driving. I'm almost afraid he's going to run them over, but they jump out of the way as soon as they figure out he has no intention of stopping.

  When we do finally reach the house and stop they swarm again, and then the RR Defenses are there, surrounding the truck and pushing them back. Mrs. Baumer leans over. "Are you ready, Junco?"

  I shrug, and she takes that as a yes and opens the door. A soldier helps her out, and then I scoot out her door as well. They are yelling my name and pushing at the RR soldiers. Someone fires a shot in the air and everyone screams and then whoever is in charge is shouting for them to get back. Another soldier grabs my upper arm firmly and pulls me away and when I look back at Mrs. Baumer, she's already been pushed back into the truck and then they are rolling again.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Defense soldier is talking to me, but nothing is gettin
g through. I just follow him into my house and when he shuts the door everything goes quiet. This seems to be his cue to stop and explain things.

  "Miss Coot, I am very sorry for all this intrusion into your home. I am Lieutenant Stockton, RR Defenses, and I am ordered to take you to the commanding officer immediately."

  I nod up at him and he leads me to the door of my father's office, knocks, twice, then opens the door and gestures me in.

  Aren is sitting in my father's chair, his head in his hands, looking like complete shit. Stockton closes the door and we are alone.

  "I thought you were dead?" I say.

  He lets out a deep sigh. "Ditto, Junco. We've been looking for you everywhere." He gets up and comes over to me and hugs me. I hug him back out of politeness, but I'm not sure what's going on yet, so I pull back.

  He looks me up and down. "Did he hurt you?"

  It takes a minute to sink in. "Did he hurt me? No. But a nightdog ate my fingers." I hold them up matter-of-factly and he just stares at me, then takes them in his hand to examine them, as if he's a doctor and he can glean important information just by looking at them.

  "How did you survive?" I ask. "I thought he killed you? He kind of led me to believe that everyone was dead back there in the Stag. I certainly didn't see any survivors when we flew away."

  Aren takes me by the shoulders and steers me towards my father's big chair and pushes me until I sit. Then he takes a seat on the desk and puts his head in his hands again.

  "How are you the commanding officer here, Aren? Why are there MR soldiers outside?"

  He rubs the stubble on his chin, but doesn't answer.

  "Are you going to just sit there? Or will you answer my questions?"

  Now he meets my gaze, but still no words come out.

  I get up and walk towards the door. "Fine, I'm going to my room. I've been played with enough for the past week, I don't have the time or interest in playing with you today. So, when you're ready to tell me what the fuck is going on, you let me know. OK?"

  "Wait," he says before I can reach the door. "Just a minute. Hold on, OK? Just give me a second to try and put all the pieces together."

  I turn back to him with a sneer. "Let me help you, how about that? I'm some freak bird alien. Oh no, wait – I'm not a bird, did you know that avians aren't birds? Well, they're – I mean we're not. I'm an alien, my parents are monsters who took me in for some sort of genetic experiment twice a year, the RR is as corrupt as all hell, and you're in on all of it. How's that for putting the fucking pieces together?"

  His brow furrows a little. "Junco, I swear I don't know if any of that is true, not one word of it. But I've heard things that are beginning to be repeated so many times they're getting hard to dismiss."

  "What things have you heard?"

  "You, your parents, and the Stag. It was some massive cover-up with the United Republics, and I just want to make this very clear, right now. I am not involved in any of that. None of it."

  "So which part are you involved in?"

  He lets out a deep sigh. "I'm just the delivery guy."

  "And my brother?"

  He shakes his head at me. "What brother?"

  "The avian the MR held hostage all these years?"

  "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I know of him, Junco. Of him. I want to be clear here, I don't know anything else. Nothing."

  "And you're the commander here? Not likely, Aren."

  He comes toward me where I'm standing in the middle of the room and looks down into my eyes. "Now you see where I'm at?"

  I shake my head no. Because no, not really. I don't.

  "They're using me, Junco." It comes out strong, but I can see the fear on his face. "I'm going down here."

  "If you're not really in charge, then who is?"

  "Colonel Slag, Junco. That goddamn RR bastard's been after you forever. He rolled in to the MR a little over a week ago, had the superiors all up in a wad, put me in charge, and told me to bring you back and kill the avian."

  "What do they want with me?" I ask coldly.

  "I don't know, I swear."

  "Why do they want to kill Tier?"

  "Because he was sent here to kill you."

  I laugh. "Kill me? Well he's got a funny way of killing me, since I'm still alive and he let me walk away."

  "So he tested you and you're not the Seventh Sibling?"

  I shake my head. "What are you talking about now?"

  "He was sent here to kill you, Junco, I saw the orders myself. You're not one of the Six, you're the–"

  "The what?" I ask, unable to let him keep going for fear of what he will say.

  "You're the Seventh, not the pure avian like the last girl they took."

  My head spins and I suddenly realize I'm going to faint when Aren grabs me and pulls me over to my father's couch. I sit back and wait it out. "What last girl?" I finally manage.

  "Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Junco, I thought he told you that. You know about the other guy, the other avian. I just figured you knew about her too."

  "I'm going to be sick," I say as I run towards the bathroom connected to the office. I slam the door behind me, lift the seat on the head and dry-heave my guts out. Then I sit back on the cold tile floor and listen dispassionately to Aren barking orders at people on the other side of the door.

  A little while later he knocks, tries the knob, and when it turns he pushes forward, but my body is leaning up against the door and it opens only a few inches.

  "Junco?" I can hear the hesitation in his voice.

  "What," I answer. Flat. Emotionless.

  "Lemme in."

  I scoot away from the door and he opens it the rest of the way, then yanks me to my feet without speaking.

  "No," I protest as I fling my arms around so he will drop his hands. "I don't want to see anyone yet."

  "Fine, but you're not going to mope on the bathroom floor all day. Get up and come out here with me."

  I follow him out to my father's office and plop down into the deep couch, resting my head on the armrest. "Tell me everything you know," I demand.

  And to my surprise, he does.

  It comes spilling out like he's been waiting his whole life to talk to me. For part of it I sit motionless, waiting to hear the terrible truth, and other parts I let the tears escape. It's not quite the same story that Tier told me, but close enough to establish that most of what he said is either true, or significantly close to true.

  A soldier interrupts us at one point, and I recognize him as CP from the makeshift field-camp oh so long ago. He's smiling when he first looks at me, but then his face drops when he sees my expression. When Aren turns away to sign the papers he brought, he silently mouths something encouraging. I turn away before he's done and watch as Aren hands the pen back. CP turns to leave, then stops, and looks back at us. "Sir? The men wanted me to ask if there are blinds that can be drawn on the windows, so the media can't see in?"

  Aren pushes him out the door, mumbling something at him. But as soon as the door is closed he turns back to me. "Can we block the windows, Junco? It really is annoying being so exposed since the house is literally made of glass. I don't know how you could sleep in a house that has no shades. Especially since–"

  "HOUSE?" I ask the ceiling.

  "Welcome home, Junco, I've missed you dearly, my friend."

  I breathe out quickly, then gasp for more air. "Thank you. Can you please opaque the windows?" The room is instantly dark as the light shining through the wall of windows facing the courtyard blacks out. "And turn on evening lights, too?" The lights pop on and the courtyard is glowing with soft artificial illumination as I watch the astonished expression on Aren's face. "Thanks, HOUSE."

  "You're welcome, Junco. I hope you are feeling OK. I detect some anxiety in your voice."

  "Unfortunately, I'm not. But thanks for your concern. I appreciate it."

  "I'm sorry, Junco. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you."

  I nod and she's silent.<
br />
  Aren is still looking at me in disbelief. "What now?" I ask.

  "You have a sentient house?"

  "For security," I say.

  "You have a sentient house?" he asks again, like I didn't hear him correctly the first time.

  "Yes, Aren, I have a sentient house. What?" I ask when he begins to shake his head and mumble under his breath. "What?"

  "You Farm Families are such blood-sucking hypocrites!"

  Now it is my turn to be stunned. "What the hell are you talking about, Aren?"

  "You're a Farm Family, in the Rural Republic, Junco. Surely you aren't so far removed from our society that you think a sentient house is an acceptable form of tech?"

  "It's a security system, Aren. Lots of people have security systems in the RR."

  "Yeah, it's called a dog." He says it with such contempt I'm taken aback for a minute. "Is this how all of you live? With a heated pool in the courtyard, a tropical rain forest as your personal garden, songbirds singing on every branch, and some artificial intelligence thrown in for good measure?"

  "Are we really having this conversation?" I ask, completely pissed off.

  "Do you want to know how I grew up, Junco? We had no indoor plumbing, no central heating in the winter, no air conditioning, no hot showers, no cars, no trucks, and certainly not enough sense to know that our parents were completely nuts for making us live like this until I moved out and discovered the entire civilized fucking world took toilets for granted."

  "You really want to play this game? I didn't ask to be born into this family, and guess what? It turns out I wasn't born into this family. I didn't ask for this life. And if you want to trade, I'll be happy to go out to wherever the hell you're from and stick it out while you bask in the artificial sunshine next to our pool and then learn that you're not even human!"

  The lights dim and HOUSE's voice booms out from the ceiling. "Lockdown will be initiated in fifteen seconds. Lockdown will be initiated in fifteen seconds."