Ascendancy

by Karri Thompson

  The top of our heads baked under the one o’clock sun, so after every ten-minute set of kicking, we’d take a quick break and splash our faces with water.

  “Shit,” I said. A gray dorsal fin cut through the surface of the sea within yards of us. “Don’t move. Don’t kick. Stay completely still.”

  “Why? What…” The fin cut right, and he froze and held his breath.

  Water lapped against my face, stinging my eyes, and I blinked and shook my head. “Cassie,” he whispered as the fin came closer to me.

  “The gills, eyes, and nose,” I said. “Beat them with your fists as hard as you can if it comes within range.”

  But even a small bite would be fatal. The shore was still too far away. We’d bleed out, and in the process, we’d attract more sea predators.

  “Cassie,” Michael said again, his voice wavering with panic. He kicked hard and came around the other side of the fin, raising his fist.

  “Wait! Oh, thank God,” I said, breaking into a laugh. A bulbous nose nudged at my ribs and then lifted from the water. “It’s a dolphin. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  It circled to my right, and I stuck out my hand, letting its rubbery skin run against my palm. Two of its friends joined us, dodging right and left playfully, and then they floated alongside us with their heads sticking up from the water.

  They were bigger and more powerful than I realized, surpassing our lengths as Michael and I continued to kick. But as relieved as we were that they weren’t Great Whites, their massive bodies created waves that forced me to hold Victoria tight against the cushion so she wouldn’t roll to the side.

  “One good thing, though,” I said. “Sharks and dolphins don’t mix. As long as they’re here, we won’t become lunch.”

  Just when Michael suggested stopping and resting for a minute, the current rose, dropping us to meet the breakers. The waves were mellow, something a surfer wouldn’t bother to ride.

  “Keep going,” I shouted, “we’re almost there.”

  I’d body surfed one time when we finished a dig early. I’d sucked and never caught a decent wave, but I learned to time them, something I needed to do right now in order to keep the cushion and Victoria above water.

  Poor Michael, on the other hand, was beaten by the dismal surf. He lost his cushion twice and with his bum shoulder floundered ungracefully on both occasions to retrieve it, ignoring the pain and using all of the strength in his good arm, something I doubted I could do. He lost his shoes, and I lost the diaper bag and my boots. The next set of waves was bigger than the first and I went under, swallowing a mouthful of salt water.

  Thankfully, just as the next set erupted, my feet hit the ocean floor. I kept my balance, lifting Victoria above my head to keep her from the cold, foamy water, but losing her blanket in the process.

  I reached the shore first, staggering on legs that felt like noodles. Victoria was drenched in sea water and crying, her cheeks red from the sting of the salt water and her lips blue from its chill. Michael dropped to his knees and crawled on all fours to meet us on the dry sand and rock.

  We were on a small patch of rocky beach that was narrow in width and length. With a row of bushes and gnarled trees only a few yards from the shore, it was obvious why this small stretch wasn’t used by beach-goers or dotted with the ever present obscura cameras, or at least any we could find.

  “We need to get out of the sun,” I said when my face became tight with dried salt and started to burn. “And I need to warm her up.”

  Sharp rocks cut into the soles of our feet, and when we settled under the tree with the most shade and the biggest patch of grass, one of its branches scraped against my leg, tearing my pants. We stripped Victoria of her wet clothes. As the soft, warm wind hit her skin, she stopped crying.

  Michael took off his shirt and hung it on the tree to dry. It was hard not to stare at him. His abdomen rippled with muscle, and his biceps were bigger than I remembered. I did the same, keeping on my bra. I wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought I’d be after reminding myself that it was no different than walking around in a bathing suit top.

  But that’s where our striptease stopped. We rolled up the cuffs of our pants to let our calves warm, but our wet pants were more than uncomfortable, and trying to keep them sand-free was almost impossible.

  “Still have yours?” I asked, fingering the outline of the blocker in my pocket.

  “Sure do,” said Michael.

  “Let’s just hope we won’t get in a situation where we get banded and have to use them.” I took a deep breath of briny air. “You’re sunburned, but the blood from your lip has washed away.”

  I cupped his right cheek and chin with my hand, and as my palm warmed against his skin, my eyes burned and watered, but it wasn’t from the salty sea. Michael had done so much for me, risked his life so many times, and in doing so, left behind a cushy job, a bankroll of credits, and his colleagues and friends at GenH1 to forge a new life with minimal technology in the remote area of Tasma. The promise of a future that had turned out to be nothing more than another region-manufactured lie. His future was now as bleak as mine and Victoria’s, and our daughters’.

  Was losing his naivety and L-Band worth a gun shot and living the life of a fugitive? And what if he was killed in the process? It would be my fault, something I could never live with. Michael had brought me back to life, but because of me, he might end up losing his. I had to do everything in my power not to let that happen.

  His smile gave me hope, and I lowered my hand, interlacing my fingers with his and giving it a squeeze.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “Let’s see. Where should I start,” I said playfully. I recalled all he’d done for me from one of the most extreme, pulling me free from a tar pit, to the smaller things like secretly helping me collect the ancient pottery pieces from my dig at GenH1. There were too many kind-hearted and life-risking gestures to count, but each of them brought me closer to completely forgiving the fact that he’d kept knowledge from me in the past. As we spent more time together, it was also easier for me to understand how his clone ignorance had, and still continued, to influence all of his decisions.

  “Just for everything,” I said with teary eyes.

  “You don’t have to thank me for anything,” he said. “I’m here for you, Cassie, because I love you, and I’ll do anything to keep you safe and happy.”

  There was a moment of silence between us, but not an awkward one. We held each other’s gaze, unblinking, and smiled warmly.

  Yes, he did love me. I could see it deep within his eyes and feel it in my heart.

  A small breeze cut across the shore, and a wisp of Michael’s damp hair fanned over his left eye. He let go of my hand, and with his good arm, combed his fingers through his stiff hair. The strands fell back, settling into clumps, and even with his red nose and cheeks, he looked like he belonged on a yacht in a print ad, selling expensive men’s cologne.

  “You’re sunburned, too. Your lips are bright red. Do they hurt?”

  “No, not really,” I said, giving them a lick and enjoying their salty taste.

  “Good,” he said and gave me a kiss so soft yet passionate that I closed my eyes, wanting more, and imagining his bare chest pressed against mine.

  “And your arm?” I asked when I came back to my senses.

  “Not bad,” he said, rotating his shoulder and then coming in for another kiss.

  I watched his eyes as he lifted away. I couldn’t stop looking at his abs, and he couldn’t keep his gaze off me, either.

  “Okay, time to regroup” he said. “And figure out exactly what’s happened and why, and who ordered the deaths of Heath and his cabinet.”

  I kissed Victoria’s forehead. “And to do that, we’ll need help, so that means—”

  “I know exactly what that means. We need to go to Division Three, Subdivision Two to find Travel’s brother.”

  He was right. We needed to find Trail.r />
  By late afternoon, we were dry and rested. Unbelievably, the diaper bag washed up on shore; Michael spotted it bobbing in a small tide pool. Being optimistic, he’d run along the beach grunting every few seconds when his foot hit a rock, and after ten minutes of searching, he found his shoes, my boots, and Victoria’s blanket, but not our socks.

  The laser pistol still worked. Michael said it would, that they were designed to endure under any condition, but I tested it against the ground anyway. A spray of hot sand burst from the spot where the laser bullet entered.

  Michael jumped. “Careful,” he said.

  “I’m not afraid of guns, and I know how to shoot. What do you think we did on digs when we got bored?” He shrugged. “Target practice with soda cans and water bottles. There were always guns on digs for protection. I wouldn’t be caught dead in the middle of the desert without some kind of weapon.”

  “Hungry?” he asked, obviously changing the subject.

  “Yeah,” I said, and tucked the gun into my waist band.

  “Me, too. I wish I’d eaten more at the governor’s mansion.”

  “You were too busy flirting with Dolly Yardly to eat,” I said as I sat down next to Victoria.

  At least her tummy was full and she was happy. Her bottles were still fresh and six pairs of diapers were dry enough to be used. The grass was soft and cool against her body as she napped.

  “What do you mean? If anyone was doing any flirting, it was her flirting with me.”

  “Oh, get over yourself,” I said and batted my boots as they hung by their laces over a branch to dry.

  “Come here,” he said, and wrapped one arm around me. His bare skin against mine ignited my insides, and I pressed against him, lifting my head for him to kiss me.

  His kisses were soft at first but became harder as I gripped his back, and he lowered me to the ground. I ran my hands along the muscle-clad contours of his body, carefully avoiding his injury, my insides stirring with delight. His lips moved to my throat, and then my collar bone.

  “We can’t do this,” I said. “We need to get dressed and go. Head to Trail’s at nightfall. That’s what we decided to do.”

  Without Trail’s help we would have never escaped the regions the first time. He did it for his dead brother, Travel, and for Travel’s daughter, Victoria. He’d be there for us again. I was sure of it.

  Michael sighed, “I know.” He sat up and jerked his shirt from the tree. Stiff with salt, the crusty fabric barely stretched as he struggled to pull his tunic over his head. He forced his feet deep into his shoes and kicked at the ground, unrolling his pant legs.

  I got why he was frustrated. I wanted more, too, but I mentally wasn’t ready for that, yet. And even if I was, this beach was not the right place nor the right time.

  When we were both dressed, I stretched Victoria’s blanket back into shape and draped it over her and my arm.

  “If only we had a mover,” I said as we rounded the top of the hill above the beach and met the road. Two movers whizzed by us at their five-foot hoverment, the road regulators positioned at the turns clicking to guide them.

  “Yeah. We’ll look suspicious walking next to the road, and there are obscuras at the top of every light post.”

  “Hopefully Saul told them our lie and they’re still looking for us in Tasma.”

  I imagined Harrington’s face, his thin lips twisted with disgust when the flyer door opened and the only person in there was Saul. Hopefully they didn’t notice the missing seat cushions and figure out what we did.

  We cut away from the street, keeping our heads down and creating our own path as we headed west toward what we hoped was Melbourne. Michael complained about how much easier it would be if we had working L-Bands, and I reminded him that if we did, they’d know exactly where we were.

  He shook his head. “I’m beginning to understand more and more about the drawbacks of technology.”

  After we walked what must have been about five miles, I said, “I recognize that.” My legs were stiff, and my lower back hurt from carrying the baby, even though Michael held her half of the time. “Isn’t that the hoverbus station where…no, maybe it isn’t. Damn. They all look the same to me.”

  “I think you’re right. That might be the hoverbus station near Trail’s house. And if it is, there should be a park a few blocks from here.”

  We quickened our pace with the hope of finding something familiar, and after crossing two intersections, the park came into view along with the hoveryard we visited once before. The last time we sought refuge at Trail’s house, we had stopped at this park, and Michael suggested we take a break here again in order to get our bearings. As the sun slowly dropped behind the buildings in the distance, two kids rode the backs of tethered plastic animals, barely noticing us as we stood under a tree.

  “Okay, I recognize all of this,” he said, “but I have no idea which way to go from here.”

  I moved Victoria to my other shoulder. Everything ached, my legs, my arms, my back. The skin on my face was tight and hot with sunburn, and my sockless feet felt sticky and gross in my boots.

  “Let me think for a minute and it’ll come to me.” I handed Victoria to him and dropped to the grass to sit cross legged with my head in my hands. “If I’m remembering correctly, this is Subdivision One, which means Melbourne. Subdivision Two is just ahead.”

  “Yeah, that sounds right.”

  I closed my eyes and a trail of bright lights on the clone’s version of a map, the E-Paper, resurfaced in my mind. “Then once we get to the edge of Subdivision Two, I think I’ll know exactly where to go.”

  As we walked, the night air was cold, biting through the fibers of my clothes, and my wind-whipped hair slapped against my cheeks though I kept my head down. Michael started to limp.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing much, just a blister on my heel.”

  “Do you want to take a quick break?”

  “No. I’m fine, but we can stop for a bit if you need to. How are you holding up?” he asked and with his right arm across my back drew me closer to his side.

  “I’m okay. I just hope we’re close.”

  “Yeah, what we both need is a shower and a warm bed,” he said and looked up at the moon.

  “And I hope we’re not lost,” I added as the row of homes in the distance looked only vaguely familiar.

  “We’re not lost. I recognize this street. In fact, there’s Trail’s neighborhood just ahead”—he pointed—“We turn left here.”

  For the first time in hours, a deep breath brought a pleasant sensation into my chest, and my heart kicked up its pace. I couldn’t stop smiling.

  We ducked behind trees when we could, dodging every visible obscura, keeping to the shadows, and avoiding sidewalks and people by cutting behind lots. Travel’s brother’s house, 2-27, was at the end of the next block. It had to be.

  Chapter Five

  Two security movers passed, breaking the nighttime neighborhood silence with light and sound, and an ear-piercing siren that made my stomach tighten. Doors opened as awakened homeowners snatched glances into their streets and as Michael and I darted from one block to the next, night broke into dawn.

  “Do you think they’re looking for us?” I asked.

  “Not sure, but we need to assume they are.”

  “And if they are, they know we’re not in Tasma anymore,” I said as another security mover cut down the street.

  “Maybe, but they don’t know we’re headed to Trail’s or his house would be surrounded by officers.” Michael pointed to Trail’s backyard. The house was dark and still.

  “He’s either not home or…” I didn’t want to think about the other possibility.

  “Or they figured out he helped us when we rescued Victoria and he was arrested.”

  A sick emptiness snuck up my throat, forcing me to draw in a quick breath. Please be home safe and sound, Trail.

  Tall weeds waved in the soft breeze of the ear
ly morning, and Trail’s set of Whimsy birds lay on their sides, their dusty wings spread against the concrete patio like metallic fans.

  “We’ll turn off the obscuras when we get inside. That is, if we can unlock the door,” I added.

  Michael took my hand as we entered the backyard though the gate. We crept to the back door, our light footsteps barely audible until my toe hit the overturned metal dog bowl on the porch. The door opened effortlessly with one push and closed just as easily, clicking into place and locking automatically.

  “It was unlocked. That’s weird,” I whispered.

  “Not really. Not if it’s untenanted.”

  “What about vandalism, theft, or squatters?”

  “Squatters?”

  “Never mind.”

  Of course there wouldn’t be any unlawful residents. Not in this world, a world without poverty, homelessness, hunger, or war—things these people had never experienced in a society where everyone was equal and provided for by the government. The compromise was too great for me. To be electronically tethered to a central computer and under the eyes of obscuras 24/7—but these brainwashed clones didn’t know anything different.

  As the last of the moonlight lit up the small sitting room, everything looked the same as it did before with its slick, white walls and beige, boxy furniture. In the kitchen, we found three half-empty coffee cups on the tray in middle of the table, the way we left them when we’d climbed through the bedroom window and raced to meet Saul. My shoulders dropped, my lungs deflated with a deep, audible sigh, and any hope I had that Trail was safe and unharmed shriveled and disappeared.

  Michael picked up a piece of stale toast with a bite-sized piece missing and let it drop back to the plate with a dull clang. “Damn, they took him,” he said, and gave the table a pound with his fist.

  “Bastards,” I said and kicked the table leg hard enough to rattle the coffee cups. “Where do you think they took him?”