Fillion bit the inside of his cheek until he drew blood. The metallic taste filled his mouth as the fury and humiliation whipped around inside of him. Hanley’s mind games were breaking him. Beating him back into submission. Punishing him for ever thinking he had a choice. One thing he knew for sure, though: He’d never marry Akiko Hirabayashi, no matter the consequences.
Mustering what tremulous confidence he had left, he said, “Hanley, I have a busy day tomorrow.” Fillion’s voice cracked. “Let’s get to the point. Stop deflecting and answer the damn question. Why did you lie about the Death Card?”
“It really doesn’t matter what I say as you have already decided the truth. I’m always the bad guy to you. But, for the record, I never lied to you about the Death Card. I really didn’t know it was in New Eden.” Fillion felt like the wind was knocked out of him. Again. Damn this was getting old. His dad folded his hands in his lap and leaned back in his chair. “So, Connor had it? Interesting.”
“But...” Fillion lowered his head and thought back to the conversation he had with Connor. I was given Hanley’s Death Card. “Shit.” He stabbed his fingers through his hair once again and lifted his eyes. Was his dad toying with him? He couldn’t tell. “Yeah,” Fillion continued. “Connor placed it in Joel’s pocket as a signal that the death was suspicious. He hoped you would read about it in the report Jeff sent over. But Leaf found it before the Cremation Ceremony and didn’t reveal it to the community, a tradition of theirs. And here we are.”
Hanley’s face tensed in contemplation for a few seconds, before relaxing. “And what do you think about that story?”
“You tell me.”
“You’re the one with the information.”
“OK. Fine. Initial thoughts? I think it’s weird that an Element would have the job of signaling by using a unique card when another Element has died of foul play, because it assumes it’ll never be him. Sort of begs the question if they’re the one behind the crime.” Hanley nodded thoughtfully. “But the plot hole with that idea is that Connor said the card was given to him. So the real questions are, why did the card giver think a signal like that would even be necessary? Why did they believe Connor would be safe? And why were you left out?”
“Indeed.”
That was it? He waited a few seconds to see if Hanley would engage in the topic more, but his dad remained tight-lipped. “Happen to know who would use a Curse Card in New Eden?”
His dad’s face stilled. “A Curse Card was used?”
“That’s what I just said. Are you now reduced to redundancy as deflection?” Fillion rolled his eyes. “Willow discovered the Curse Card on the remains of her spinning wheel.”
“Was this the same day Norah died?”
The nausea that had pooled in Fillion’s stomach stirred once again. “Yeah, why?”
“Fitting puzzle pieces together.”
“Norah spoke with me before she died.” Hanley’s eyes widened ever so slightly and Fillion internally rejoiced. Good. He’d play back. Adopting a casual tone, he continued. “She shared some things. So don’t play games with me.”
“The Curse Card is for me. I spin the tales and I weave the stories together. It’s a warning.”
“A warning about what?” Fillion waited, but his dad didn’t answer. So Fillion thought he’d throw out the first bit of information that could be linked to such a sign of communication. “A faction has formed.”
“Disagreements in opinions are not the same as civil war. I am not shutting down the project.”
“People have died! Lives are threatened.”
A belittling, amused expression lit his dad’s features. “A heart attack and cancer. They’re the same threats beyond the walls of New Eden.”
Fillion creased his brows. “Two Elements in two weeks. That leaves Timothy and Connor. Oh, and Jeff. Which one was The Aether before Claire?”
“Now you are thinking like a Gamemaster.”
Hanley leveled a calculating look, and Fillion flew into a rage. “This. Is. Real. Holy shit! Are you mental?” Fillion continued to swear under his breath and glared at Hanley. “Why won’t you tell me? Who are you protecting?”
“You can hate me as much as you want.” Hanley’s countenance was empathetic, but his gaze insidious. “One day you’ll thank me. I’m preparing you for a necessary future.”
“How hubristic of you to think I need your permission to have feelings or a future.”
Before his dad could reply, Fillion walked over to the tower and pushed the power button and the screen went black. All the self-control he possessed dissipated into the dank, sweltering air that spilled in from the jungle, and he marched over to the back wall by the ladder and released his fury onto the mud surface. Blood dripped from his knuckles, but he threw another punch. And another. The sensation satisfied a primal urge to feel alive, endorphins and adrenaline mixing together in a violent rush. Red dotted the walls, but he didn’t care. His blood was figuratively being poured out for this place. Might as well make it literal, too.
When the fight finally left him, he leaned his head onto the wall, closing his eyes as the cool surface soothed his flushed skin. Sweat dripped down his face and back. His body involuntarily shuddered.
“Fillion.”
He’d forgotten about Leaf. He slowly turned, too mortified to meet the noble’s eyes. Fillion was on the brink of a system crash, his vision dimming as he stared at the floor. It was black. Everything. His future. His existence. He felt nothing and everything all at once. Dizziness swam in his head and his lungs burned, and Fillion realized he’d been holding his breath. He gulped, his chest heaving as an army of emotions marched through him. Each beat of his heart echoed life, but he was dying inside. Probably already dead. Only shades of his former self remaining to interact and respond.
Arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, and Fillion lost it. Tears, heated by the heartache and the rage, burned his skin as he sobbed. Nobody had ever comforted him before like this. And Fillion felt vulnerable, reduced by resignation. The oppressive weight of his life felt stronger than gravity. And all he could do was lean against Leaf.
For two weeks he received messages of worth and value. The desolate oceans of his life showed signs of restoration rather than the barren wasteland it had been. Hanley wiped all that away, destroyed every ounce of confidence, and the lifeless desert returned.
The message was clear. He was to be dependent on his dad for everything. Hanley would dole out bits of life, like nourishment to satisfy Fillion’s hunger and keep him alive, only to show that he, and he alone, was responsible for Fillion’s future. Submission would guarantee some emotional comfort, and defiance would not be tolerated. Others would be punished as consequence.
Where was his redemption? He internally swore at Fate for her cruelty. He had asked for a sign and was given one. But hope was for the weak-minded. A second wave of rage surged through Fillion and he pushed Leaf away. If he fought, it was certain death. If he didn’t fight, it was also certain death. He would die inside either way. He paced the room, pulling on his hair, the agony in his heart far greater than the knife-sharp pain stabbing through his knuckles.
“Fillion, how your father wishes for you to feel and think of yourself is not real.” Leaf’s voice somehow breached the barricades he had boarded up and he locked eyes with the Son of Earth. “What is the truth?”
“Who gives a shit? Does it even matter?!”
Then, as if in answer to Leaf’s question, a light sparked in the darkness of Fillion’s mind, and the funeral pyre of his life caught fire. Thoughts fueled the flames as he tossed them into the inferno like sticks, the deafening roar of the furnace blocking out all voices but truth.
His dad had never cared about him. Neither had the world. Hanley wasn’t a father of a son and a daughter. He was a father of lies, lies the world bought into. So why did Fillion allow Hanley or the world to define his value? Determine if he was worthy of acceptance? Worthy of love? The truth did ma
tter.
The lies were suddenly so clear. Their shrieks attempted to pierce his resolve. But no more.
The remnants of his old life burned with a fury. The paved graveyard of dreams had led to redemption after all. And this marked the moment he knew, without question, that he owned his life.
Fillion lifted his head. Red and swollen eyes stared back, shadows lining Leaf’s face. The passion for justice, family, and honor that resonated in the Son of Earth emboldened Fillion. Leaf Dylan Watson was one of the greatest men Fillion knew. He was annoying as hell at times. A rule-following, arrogant bastard at other moments. But everything Leaf fought for, he did for noble reasons. He was meant to wear a crown of power. And Fillion would make sure it stayed that way.
“Hanley lost a son today.”
Leaf nodded slowly, his face full of emotion. “I shall be your family.” The Son of Earth grabbed Fillion’s forearm and gripped him tightly. “I bond myself to you as a sworn brother, and pledge my life to serve and protect yours. I shall be your other family, one who honors your life.”
Fire shot through Fillion’s veins with those words. “I bond myself to you as a sworn brother, too. I’ll keep fighting for your family. Hanley won’t lay a goddamn finger on you or your sisters.”
The Son of Earth bowed deeply, and Fillion received the honor without self-deprecation. He was a prince and would stand tall as the man of power and influence he was. Leaf pulled Fillion in for another embrace, clapping him on the back. “Come,” Leaf whispered, draping an arm across Fillion’s shoulders and directing him toward the ladder to climb out of the pit.
***
Over the past two decades, symptoms of emotional isolation have reached a pandemic state in populations across the world. The common feeling described is disconnection or a lack of bonding despite strong social networks. Normally, this is a very common phase while processing grief. Hardships force people into a place that demands a re-evaluation of values. What was once considered significant can become relegated to the petty, creating a domino effect. This inward journey is a critical step when traveling through sorrow toward hope. It is concerning, however, when entire populations claim feelings and experiences of emotional isolation as if the world is in a state of global-wide grief.
— Dr. Della Jayne Nichols, “Chapter 2: Emotional Isolation,” Misery Loves Company, 204
***
Seattle, Washington state
Coal dared not move, baffled by what had just transpired. Though he did not have long to ponder his thoughts. The door slid open manually in an angry rush, snapping him out of his confused trance. Lynden grabbed the chain dangling from his belt loop and pulled him forward.
“Come on. Mack is waiting.”
As she marched down the hallway, he whispered, “I did not mean to imply fault nor guilt.”
“Whatever.”
“Upon my honor, I speak truth.”
She whirled around and faced him, the anger sparking dangerously from her eyes, and he matched her fiery passion, drawing himself up taller. She backed away a step with a nervous breath, hugging her arms. Coal realized his mistake and relaxed his posture, softening his expression. In response, her emotions dimmed to indifference, the flames of offense cooling to the unreadable.
“I may be a whore according to the Martian standards of living,” she spat, “but you didn’t just want me that day, you needed me. There’s a whole world of difference, something you don’t get because you’ve never had to emotionally survive until now.”
“I have been taught that such passions only exist between a man and his wife, and to know a woman’s body before she is your wife ruins her reputation,” Coal said. “If a man does not redeem the woman’s virtue through marriage, then, according to the community, each must never marry or risk banishment. For to then share a bond with another would be to commit an affair, which is against The Code.” Coal took a step closer. “Go ahead, laugh and scoff. In New Eden, there is no escape from each other. Property is communal and privacy is scarce. There is very little we truly own. But our heart? It is the most guarded and cherished possession of all.” He tried to plead with her to understand with his eyes, but she looked away. Lowering his voice, he continued, “I cannot change my truth in a few days. To expect otherwise is unrealistic. Please allow me my due process until I am able to make both worlds coexist within me.”
“You think others will give you your due process? You don’t get it, Coal. You’re fresh meat.” She threw her arms up into the air. “They’ll take what they want and then forget about you when they’re done.” Lynden looked up at the ceiling in frustration. “What the hell kind of community punishes a woman’s reputation but not the man? New Eden is messed up.”
“I understand what you share, I simply lack the experience to couple with your truth.”
“Are you leaving her because we nearly hooked up?”
“You believe I am impulsive, as if I have come to such conclusions lightly, even though I left my childhood home three weeks prior. Yes, I am ashamed of my dishonorable behavior toward you, but that is not why I have chosen to remain here.”
“God, male pride. Yuck! A bit over-the-top, don’t you think?”
“Allow me to finish,” he ground out in frustration.
“Whatever.”
“You think so little of me?” She issued a bored response and he dangerously skirted the edge of unhinging. “I am torn. I feel as though my heart has been ripped into a million pieces!” Lynden’s eyes widened and her face blanched with the tone of his voice. “Everything I have ever known or thought is in question. It is as if I have partaken of the fruit of the Knowledge of Good and Evil and am suddenly aware of my nakedness, longing to hide my shame.” Coal grimaced with anguish and thumped a closed fist over his heart. “I am leaving behind my entire family and a community that raised me. And although it pains me, I know this is the right decision. New Eden was never big enough for me. I was restless for more and longed for adventure, something my sister understood. Something Oaklee knew as well.”
“That’s her name? Oaklee?”
Coal relaxed his muscles but maintained a tight smile. “Yes.”
“What is it with tree names for girls in New Eden?” She rolled her eyes. Coal refrained from comment. Lynden studied him as if leery. “So, this isn’t some kind of sick alien bond thing? Imprinting on me?”
“I am not an alien, nor am I from Mars. Do not insult me.” Coal’s head fell back in agitation. “Please, Lynden. Although we have acted beyond friends, I need your friendship.”
“I’d think friendship with me would go against your sanctimonious upbringing.”
“Stop.”
“What?”
Coal stepped forward and their gazes collided in a heated swirl of emotions. His heart shouted conflicting messages to his mind, and Lynden seemed lost in a similar struggle. In a breathy whisper, he confessed, “I have never desired anyone as I desired you. I shall not deny it.” He took another step closer, admiring the freckles that kissed her skin. “But what really gains my attention? Even more than any passions that may exist between us? You are the only real thing I know in this world. I would be utterly lost without you. Perhaps that makes me selfish, but I need you, and I desire to need you for all the right reasons.”
“Oh. My. God. What’s taking so long?” Mack bellowed dramatically from the living room. “Get your asses over here!”
She closed the distance between them. “I’ve had a lot of boys damage me in a lot of ways. But no boy has ever broken my heart. Don’t be that boy, Coal Hansen.”
“I wish— ”
“What the hell is going on?!” Mack stomped over to them, and Lynden casually moved away from their contact. “Fine. Let’s meet in the hallway. Why not?” He slumped against the wall and raised his eyebrows. “So, what’s the secret meeting about and why wasn’t I invited?”
Coal maintained eye contact with Lynden, but said to Mack, “My apologies. I needed to make amends ove
r a misunderstanding.”
“Cleared up?” Mack looked between them.
“Murky.” Lynden fidgeted with the ring on her thumb. “So, what’s up?”
“We need to hit the underground much sooner. Something happened to Fillion’s line, and it’s making me antsy. So, we’re going to kick-start this circus while the cat’s away and hope our juggling act works, or however that metaphor should go. Damn. What time is it?” Mack flashed his Cranium. “Shit. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m like suddenly an old person. OK. Before we can go, Coal needs lessons on what to expect from the Earthen female species who make their homes in the underground.”
“I don’t like the look on your face,” Lynden said, narrowing her eyes as she stared at Mack. “How does this involve me?”
A silent understanding passed between Lynden and Mack, and Coal watched with growing concern as Lynden shifted on her feet and gathered herself. Mack, normally jovial and pouncing on every line with a ready comeback, held a serious expression as he watched Lynden.
“If not you then someone else, and you know it.” Mack lowered his voice. “Look at him.” Lynden obeyed, but avoided eye contact. “It’s not like you never thought of it. I saw you test him the first day he arrived.”
“Fine. But you can’t watch.”
Mack rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Like I’ve never seen you ticket. I was there the night Fillion hauled your ass out of The Crypt.”
“I do not wish to cause Lynden distress,” Coal said quietly. “I am not sure I fully understand, but I have gathered enough and recognize that she is uncomfortable with whatever it is you are asking her to do for my education. And, if you are asking her to be physical with me, I shall leave. As one man to another, I cannot respect nor approve your request.”
“See? He’ll be fine.” Lynden crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.
“I know his type.” Mack flashed him a quick glance. “Trust me. He’ll be anything but fine, and you know it better than me. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Elements (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2) Page 32
