Elite: The Satellite Trilogy Part II

by Lee Davidson

  “Better now. How about you?” His forehead creases when he steps back to make sure his wife is still in one piece. God, I love this man.

  My whole body relaxes. “I’m better now, too.”

  “How long do you have?”

  At this moment, I wish I had eternity. “Not long enough.”

  “I was hoping I’d see you today. I made coffee.”

  “I already grabbed some tea. Thank you, though.”

  “No problem. I already drank half of it anyhow.”

  “So you didn’t really make it for me?”

  He smiles. “Sure I did.”

  I mimic his expression. “Uh huh.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkle even more when he laughs. “You sound just like Mya.”

  My gaze falls to the gray stone hearth and I try not to be sad. I’m so entirely happy and fulfilled with my life, now more than ever, but a small hole inside me sometimes feels very empty. “You did something right, then,” I whisper and kiss him again.

  He shakes his head. “When are you ever going to understand? Every decision I made in their upbringing was wholly entwined with you. I couldn’t even buy toothpaste without questioning which kind you would choose.”

  “You always got Tom’s of Maine brand, right?”

  He laughs and buries his face in my hair. “Yes, Babe. Always.”

  It’s a funny thing, how something so miniscule can make me feel so good. Leave it to Troy to always say the right thing.

  † † †

  It gets harder and harder for me to leave Troy behind, even though I know he stays plenty busy. Between fixing up his car in the back shop and his trips to the ocean, how he finds time to entertain is beyond me, but he’s doing just that today. A group of Satellite widows (temporarily, anyway) are stopping by later for a barbeque and the baseball game.

  “Baseball?” I question.

  He laughs while he mixes up his top-secret marinade. “Yeah. We’re streaming the Sox game…you know, via satellite.”

  I shake my head at his bad joke. “Really?”

  “My wife, the hater. When you finally get some free-time, I’ll make a Sox fan out of you, too.”

  “Doubtful,” I say on my way out the door.

  “Love you,” he calls through the kitchen window screen.

  I throw up my hand in a wave. “Love you, too.” More than you’ll ever know.

  Back in the building, I check my calimeter and opt for the shortcut to the lobby. No sense prolonging the inevitable visit to the kid. The glowing rectangular sensor just on the other side of the golden door accepts my hand print and the mural of my Tragedies’ faces splits. I grip my satchel tightly to my side and step into the narrow shaft. The invisible force grabs hold and pulls me through the constricting space. While my eyes instinctually search for light, I imagine Grant’s reaction to my preferred mode of travel and my laugh trills through the tunnel. The exhilarating sensation would certainly make that lightweight hurl.

  The force halts and leaves me standing behind the ancient, gilded door. I straighten my bag on my side and tighten my sweatshirt sleeves around my waist.

  “Have a fabulous day,” Lavender’s voice chimes and, right on cue, the door slides up.

  I step out and walk down the marble hallway and into to the lobby, skipping across the expanse to the B corridor with the memory of Troy’s kiss still fresh in my mind.

  Before stepping into the elevator, I turn at the sound of my name.

  “Hey Jonathan, what’s up?” I ask, still smiling.

  “Glad I caught you.”

  I try not to laugh. It’s not like he’d ever fail to catch someone he was searching for.

  “Could you accompany me on the field?”

  “Are the Elites there?” I ask.

  Jonathan answers with a nod. I need to talk to Grant anyway so this saves me a trip to his room.

  “After you,” he says and motions me to go first.

  I walk past him, wanting to ask if everything is all right, but judging by his lack of small talk, the odds of getting an answer are slim to none. I pull my hair tie free to release my dreads while we walk across the lobby.

  He pulls the wooden, sculptured door open for me. The old gang, minus Trina, are working in pairs. Gosh, I miss this. Not the pain part, but the comic relief.

  Jackson just made Billy skip across the field. Yes, I definitely missed this.

  “What’s up guys? Go ahead, tell me how much you’ve missed me,” I say after Jonathan collects the crew.

  “Hardly. We’ve been enjoying the silence.” Billy’s a terrible liar because his python arm wraps around my shoulders as we walk toward the bleachers.

  “With your mouth, I doubt it.” I counter.

  After my quick hellos to the others, they welcome me back like only they can, with rude jabs and snarky remarks. Evelynn stiffly asks how I’ve been and I gather all of my play-nice feelings to shrug my reply.

  I lean over and ask Reed, “Where’s Grant?”

  “You haven’t heard?” he whispers back.

  “Heard what?”

  “Rumor has it, he’s on probation, which I’m guessing is true seeing as he’s not here.”

  “Probation?” My whispers hisses out loud enough for the others to hear. “For what?”

  Billy leans my way. “Probably for being such a pansy.”

  I know he’s kidding, but my momma-instincts take over for the kid that I’m actually extremely fond of. “Watch it Billy, he kicked your tush in sprinting drills.”

  “He got lucky,” Billy rebuffs.

  When Jonathan clears his throat, I decide to ask him about Grant’s absence, but then he looks at me…wearily? Nah, I’m sure that’s just my imagination running amok. If Troy were here, he’d remind me that my hyperactive mind always gets the best of me.

  I open my mouth at the same time Jonathan does, and he wins. “A special circumstance has surfaced and the Schedulers and I have agreed that an intervention is necessary. We are requesting your aid in facilitating an experimental mission. We cannot be sure of the outcome; however, we have all agreed that the measure is worth the risk involved.”

  Everyone gets excited. Even me. OK, I’m not gonna lie, especially me, despite the fact that I have zero spare time at the moment. I’m nothing if not a workaholic.

  Troy is not going to be happy. The beauty of my husband, though, aside from his obvious physical traits, is that he’ll understand. No one gets me like he does. And, boy, does he—

  Reed jabs his elbow into my side.

  “Huh?” I mouth when he pulls me from my better-than-great daydream.

  Reed jerks his head towards Jonathan.

  “As I was saying,” Jonathan goes on, which really means Pay Attention! “Willow will be an asset to us in this mission.”

  I sit up straighter. Jonathan, knowing that flattery and I go together like chocolate and peanut butter, must be cooking up something really good.

  “Effective immediately, replacement Satellites will take over your current assignments. All of the selected Satellites have been briefed on the specifics of your Tragedies. I have no doubt each will do a fine job.”

  Oh, rubbish! Liam’s going to be on his own. Even if he’s not, he’s going to have to start at square one to build the seamless routine we have. I can hear him now. He’s going to be “bloody thrilled” about that.

  “If you will follow me, please.” Jonathan makes his way to the doors.

  Obedient pupils that we are, we keep pace behind him. There’s a charge of excitement in the air. Even from Billy, who’s practically bouncing across the lawn beside Jackson. Side-by-side they’re like David and Goliath. I smirk. Yes, it’s definitely good to be working with the old crew. Well, most of them.

  Evelynn sweeps past me when we get through the door and, liking her even less since her kissing episode with Grant, I remind myself not to say anything if I can’t think of anythi
ng nice to say. Thinking of my time with Troy earlier does the trick in bringing my happy thoughts back.

  “I missed the joke. You know I love a good joke. Are you going to spill? Come on, spill.” Jackson delivers his words in a speed that only he can.

  “Sorry, no joke. I was just daydreaming.”

  “That reminds me, I heard a new one the other day. A joke, I mean. Want to hear it? It’s a really good one. One of my better one’s actually. You’ll think it’s hysterical. Trust me, it’s really, really—”

  “Do you know why Grant’s on probation?”

  “Oh, um, no. I mean there’s been talk that he didn’t follow the rules on his assignment, but you know how Satellites talk. You can never be sure what’s true and what’s not. I, for one, have a hard time believing Grant would break any rules. He seems like a straight shooter. You know what I mean? I’d never—”

  “Let’s hear your joke,” I interrupt because Jonathan’s eyes have moved to us. The man that hates gossip is wearing his disapproval all over his face.

  Jackson is excited to tell his joke, God love him. As we walk and he rambles, I think about Grant. Of course the kid would break the rules. I know that better than anyone.

  “…who walks into a bar. Or maybe it was a girl. Shoot, which one was it? It’s probably not important. We’ll say it’s a guy. So the bartender asks what he wants to drink. Oh shoot, no it was a girl. Sorry, It was definitely a girl. Forget what I just said, I’ll start over. So this girl—”

  “What I am requesting will not be an easy task.” Jonathan’s words rescue sweet Jackson from his botched joke as we walk. “The Schedulers and I cannot foresee if this undertaking will be successful. Because the outcome remains uncertain, I ask that you all be particularly alert through this process. Instinct is your greatest guide in what you do each day. If, at any point, you experience anything that feels out of the ordinary, I ask that you report the situation immediately.” He continues leading the way down the vacant Orders hall.

  Get to the goods, I want to say, but keep my lips buttoned.

  “You must first become acquainted with your Tragedy.” He waves a book in the air. “This will be phase one in our experimental mission.”

  Jonathan flips past the first page before setting the book on the golden desk. Then he flattens the binding with his palm and unfolds the paper like a magazine centerfold, minus the naked gal. When Jonathan stops unfolding, the connected six pages each include the outline of a hand.

  Our expressions are comical as we size up the extended paper.

  Jonathan’s voice sounds apologetic. “As you can see, some modifications were necessary.”

  I can’t say that I’m surprised. Nothing around here surprises me anymore. What I find hard to wrap my head around is how this is actually going to work. I mean, I think I can guess, but in my vision, it’s going to be extremely…crowded.

  I strategically position myself between Reed and Jackson because they’re the smallest of the guys. That, and they’re not Evelynn. She’s been known to have clothing malfunctions, and with my luck, one of her girls would pop out in mid-fall and smack me in the face.

  In order, Lawson, Evelynn, Reed, Me, Jackson, and Billy stand along the desk. Apprehensively, we place our hands on the appropriate outlines.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Jonathan says.

  My palm sticks to the dry paper like Velcro. Two seconds later, the book sucks us in, mashing us together like we’re trying to swirl down a sink drain.

  The feeling is worse than I could have imagined. What I hope is someone’s cheek presses against my own. When I pull back, the sequined material of Evelynn’s dress scrapes across my face. Then, in a turn from bad to worse, the sole of a large boot catches me in my mouth and smashes against my lips. Gross!

  When we finally land, we’re a mess. Hair is mussed, clothes are strewn and, yes, a boob makes an appearance. Thank the Lord the referenced body part is Reed’s, not Evelynn’s.

  We straighten ourselves and our clothing. Looks like Jackson had a wardrobe malfunction as well, albeit not of the Janet Jackson nature. The sleeve of his flannel shirt is torn clean off, exposing his thin arm. At least he has a closet full of the same threads.

  There’s very little space in the circular room and even when we get close enough to touch our right shoulders together in a flower-like formation, the stone is less than two inches from our left arms.

  Lavender comes on the intercom. “Welcome.”

  After her long pause, we all laugh, though the sound we make is more uncomfortable than happy. Apparently, she doesn’t know how to address a group this size.

  She sighs. “Please hold while I configure your assignment.”

  Our laughter is sharply cut off when the room starts spinning. We press closer together. We may heal quickly, but that doesn’t mean getting our skin scraped wouldn’t hurt like—Hello! I gasp. Yep, the stone wall definitely hurts. I wish I had put my sweatshirt back on. I try to press in closer, but the allotted space makes that impossible.

  When the wall abruptly halts, we all relax a little.

  “Your assignment begins in the year 1985 with the introduction of your Tragedy, Tatum Lewellen Jacoby. Please proceed through the door ahead.”

  Air rushes audibly into my lungs, but this is not why the five pairs of eyes are on me.

  18. No offense, but this isn’t going to work

  Willow

  It’s safe to say everyone knows who Tate is and how she’s connected to Grant. Their story is like an unhappily-ever-after fairytale around this place. It’s also obvious the Elites know I’ve been on her assignment.

  A crowded room can be a wicked lonely place. “Are you all just gonna stand there?” I push past them toward the door I’ve already been through once in my afterlife.

  The doorknob zaps me, our obnoxiously sized group enters the hospital like the contents of a clown car filing into a jewelry box, and scene one plays out: Tate, meet world. World, meet Tate.

  We’re pulled back into the stone room with very little order. Our bodies knit together when the merry-go-round starts again. I’m sure to keep my hands, feet, and back inside the vehicle at all times.

  The wall halts and we enter scene two: toddler Tate welcomes baby Elliott into her world. Back into the room we’re sucked and around and around we go.

  Scene three: pretty much identical to scene two, only welcome Cutest-Kid-Ever instead of Elliott.

  And…repeat.

  Scene four: Tate learning to drive. This is a very funny thing to watch. Her dad is not laughing, as he buckles his seatbelt because he drew the short straw. Literally. Both her parents were dreading getting in the passenger seat. The straw idea was genius, in my opinion. Especially since sly Mrs. Jacoby cheated. God love her.

  Scene five: first date with Grant. Wow, what a charmer the kid was. One word could sum up the entire night: shower! Mud-covered and persistent, he may have charmed the pants off Cutest-Kid-Ever, but I can’t believe he managed to score another date after that disaster.

  Scene six: the iconic exchange of I love yous and another disaster for the kid. The last time I saw this play out, Grant’s painful expression before Tate said anything back, made me laugh so hard I thought Tate and Grant might actually hear me. The kid is terrible with women. He’s lucky he’s got his good looks going for him. The others share my initial humored reaction.

  When we’re canned like sardines back into the round room, I prepare for our release from Lavender, but instead she keeps going, which I take to mean we’re going to be here a while.

  I try to fool myself into believing this is a good thing. Might as well get this part knocked out. In truth, the first time is about as fun as cramming for a final exam. The second time downright sucks eggs.

  Scene seven: sappy engagement. All right, this was actually kind of a good one. Plus, seeing the kid sweat is worth watching again.

  Scene eight: D-Day. I mash myself in t
he far back corner of the tiny doctor’s office and am the first one out as soon as the Doc’s diagnosis speech is wrapped. Tate’s expression, bent over and pained like someone just slammed a knife into her gut, has already been burned into my brain. Luckily, Grant was too busy staring blankly at the doctor to notice his unhappy fiancée.

  Scene nine: drum roll please…and gasp. The Elites don’t disappoint. Not that I blame them. Seeing Grant now, no one could imagine he was capable of such frailty. We’re all holding our breath to fight against the rancid vomit smell until we’re back in the stone room.

  Scene ten: another ugly Grant day with Tate trying like the devil to be supportive and helpful.

  Scene eleven: the kid’s death.

  I try to be better this time, I really do, but the scene knots my stomach just like the first time when I stood by Grant’s side on Earth during his real death, and the second time when I had to watch this same movie reel after Rebellion Tate was assigned as one of my Tragedies. Seeing the scene in person wins the title “worst day ever,” but the saying “third time’s a charm” holds no water in making this any easier.

  Sure, there are a million similar scenarios like this in my long list of Tragedies, but Grant’s gets to me more than the others. Maybe because actually being there, witnessing it in person, makes the emotions more real. Or maybe because when the kid says goodbye to Tate, there’s still a spark in his eyes. I saw it when I was there with him during his death, when I relived it again during Introduction to Tate, and now here, the sentiment is still unmistakable. He’s not at peace with leaving her.

  I close my eyes when the monitor flatlines and Grant’s mom whispers, “Be good.”

  The first time around, I got to leave as soon as Grant was released from his diseased body. Unfortunately, the second and third time require that I stay to see Tate go ape-crazy. When she’s finally sedated by injection, our large crowd is released.

  Evelynn is sobbing loudly when the wall spins around us. I cried, too, the first time. And the second. And a little bit the third.