Unrest

by Wendy Higgins

  Damn him.

  By the time Captain Ward relieved me of my shift, I was a bundle of taut nerves. I didn’t know how I’d be able to get to sleep in this state. It was only five in the morning, so Remy would still be sleeping, which would help cool me down when I got to the room. I would hunt down Rylen right now if he wasn’t at his shift for another couple hours.

  I walked down the chilly tunnel with my flashlight on, lost in thought. When I neared the end I heard a strange sound coming from the other side of the door—a voice, but it sounded like a distressed moan, like someone was in pain. I rushed forward and pushed the door open, only to stop dead in my tracks. Linette was sitting on top of one of the dryers, yanking her shirt down and turning a glare to me. Josh stood between her legs. He turned his head, eyebrows up in a menacing way that was meant to scare off the intruder, but when he saw me he gave a wry grin.

  I pushed the door to the tunnel closed and walked through the room without a word. Linette’s husky giggle followed me up the stairwell, until she was suddenly silenced, I’m sure by Josh’s mouth.

  Well, then. I was sufficiently cooled down now, and ready to nap until breakfast.

  The stars aligned that night after dinner, and everyone gathered in the hotel lobby. It had quickly become my new favorite place on earth. Someone had set up a ping-pong table and dart board. Aside from the covered glass, the room had a sense of normalcy that we were lacking in daily life. The ceilings were higher. Music played lightly overhead. It seemed to be the only place where people dared to laugh and relax a little. We’d brought a pack of cards to play with Remy and Tater after their meeting.

  An old business room off the lobby was being used for the Grief Support Group. We’d watched Remy and Tater walk in, along with the chaplain, seven other men and women, and the new guy with his head down. Captain Michael King. He always looked like he was wasting away. I made a mental note to make sure he was at the meals.

  Rylen starting acting nervous when he saw him go in. He scooted to the edge of the loveseat we shared, and watched the closed door, tugging his earlobe.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Hm?” He tore his attention from the door. “Nothing.” He made an effort to relax back into the chair, but his attention was still on the Grief room.

  “Seriously, what is it, Ry? The new guy?”

  He ran a hand over his cheek and down his chin. “Yeah, I, uh . . . I kind of wish he wasn’t in there.”

  “Why?”

  Rylen shook his head.

  “Why can’t you tell me?” I pressed.

  “He’s done classified jobs that are best left unspoken.”

  “Like what? I won’t tell anyone.”

  Rylen ran a thumb over my chin, the tip touching my bottom lip. “It’s stuff I wish I didn’t even know.” He nodded toward the door. “Top told him he should go, ‘cause those meetings are confidential—they have an understanding that what’s said in that room stays there—but I’m hoping he doesn’t share too much.”

  Geez, what kind of things has this guy done? He seemed so normal, but he’d definitely been broken by his time with the DRI. I decided to change tactics.

  “Rylen . . . what do you do all day at work?”

  He scooted closer to me and twined his fingers with mine. “Well.” He leaned his head toward mine and said in a low voice. “I’m working on getting a Bael airship to fly.”

  I gasped and stared at him. “You’re serious?” I hissed.

  “Yeah. But so far we’ve had no luck.” He put a finger to his lips to show it was our secret. I realized he was breaking major rules by telling me this. I wanted to ask a million questions, but having that information actually scared me a little. Plus, I doubted he’d tell me any details.

  We held hands, both of us lost in our thoughts. I tried to imagine what the ship looked like, and what types of technological advances they had over us. Could we learn from them and adapt enough to fight them?

  A weird feminine yelp came from the Grief room, causing Rylen and I to both tense. The voice was choked as she shouted something.

  “Is that Remy?” I asked.

  “Fuck,” Rylen breathed. His face paled. We both stood and moved to toward the door, just as a raging male voice let out a cry, followed by a crashing sound, screams, and shouts.

  “Tater!” I said. Rylen was already running. He barreled into the room with me right behind him. I could not believe what I was seeing. Tater had Michael King on the ground, pinned, with his hands around his throat. Tater’s face looked crazed. Remy stood beside them, screaming for them to stop.

  The chaplain and Rylen both struggled to pull Tater off the man, whose face had gone deep red. When Tater released him, Michael didn’t bother trying to get up. He just lie there, back arching, gasping for air.

  “You killed them!” Tater shouted. My brother thrashed and they held him tighter. “Fucking idiot! Why? You had to know it was innocent humans down there!”

  What . . . ? His words slithered into me like a poisoned serpent, and I began to shake and burn. He couldn’t mean what it sounded like. I rushed forward and stood in front of Tater, taking his face in my hands to calm him. His eyes finally focused on me, full of tears, and he sagged in the arms of the men holding him.

  “He dropped the bomb on them, Amber. This fucker . . . he killed them.”

  “He . . .” I glanced down at Michael, and a sickening sense of wrongness filled me. “He dropped the bomb?” I shifted my eyes from Tater to Remy to Rylen, whose tight features and locked jaw told me it was true. This pilot had been dropping bombs on townspeople. He’d killed my parents, and grandmother, and Livia. He’d killed Remy’s parents. She collapsed into a chair, shuddering. Another woman dropped to her side to console her.

  My gaze slowly moved to the man on the floor, who was sitting up now, still gasping.

  “Amber,” Rylen warned. I barely heard him. My feet were already moving, taking me to this human whose hands had flown the plane and released the bombs. He’d done it. He’d done it.

  The room took on a deadly stillness. The chaplain and another man had gotten Michael King to his feet. He peered at me, cowering slightly, looking like absolute shit.

  “You knew you were bombing humans?” It came out of me as a whisper.

  The room was so quiet. This man and I were both shaking, trembling, this man who’d stolen my family with one flick of his finger. Even the chaplain watched, his face pained, and he didn’t try to intervene.

  “I was told the encampments were outliers. Resisters of peace. The people who poisoned the waters.” His voice was so weak as he continued. “But you’re right to hate me. Because even after I began to question it in my mind—to question the sheer numbers of people at those sites—I was too cowardly to question them directly. I knew they would kill me. I knew the only way I could stop being used by them was to escape.”

  I couldn’t even respond. My mind screamed murderer, but my heart felt debilitating pity, as if his remorse were mingling with my own, our brokenness forever linked.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If I could do it all over again, I would refuse. I would have let them kill me.” Tears slid down his cheeks.

  “I believe you,” I said weakly.

  Without another word, I turned to Remy and held out my hand. She took it. I looked at Rylen and nodded to the door. He and the chaplain moved Tater toward it. In the lobby, we ignored the stares of everyone who’d heard the commotion and come to check it out. The four of us went to mine and Remy’s room, and together we sat. Each of their unguarded faces mirrored my brokenness.

  Seeing the face of the person who’d killed our families, and knowing he’d been a blind part of the Bael race’s plans, left us bleeding all over again. There would be no funerals. No court trials. Michael King would have to live this miserable existence with the rest of us. We would not try to punish him.

  Instead, we talked about our families. We told stories, ridiculous reminiscin
g that had us in stitches of laughter, wiping tears. But there was something healing about the tales of our loved ones who we’d never see again in this lifetime. Something soul-nourishing and cleansing about bringing them back to life through our memories, reminding ourselves they would always live on in us. Through us.

  Our hearts were raw and tender by the time Tater and Rylen left for their own room. I let Remy snuggle me as we fell asleep, thankful the four of us still had each other.

  The next morning a meeting was called for the entire compound following breakfast. Everyone who wasn’t on watch duty was expected to attend. As we made our way through the super secret doors and into the large meeting room, First Sergeant pulled Tater, Remy, Rylen, and me aside.

  “I want you each to know that the only reason we allowed Captain King to remain was because we sincerely believe he was following orders under the pretense that he was working for the right side, and that he left them under peril of his life when he realized things weren’t as they seemed.”

  We all nodded, and he continued. “I’m sorry for how things came about yesterday. We’ve asked King to keep his distance—”

  “Sir,” Tater interrupted. “With all due respect . . . I’m not ready to make nice with him, and I might never be, but you have my word I won’t go after him again.”

  First Sergeant searched my brother’s face before saying, “All right then.” He gave Tater’s shoulder a hard pat and looked at Remy and me with sad eyes. “You girls okay?”

  All we could do was nod again. We might never be “okay,” but we wouldn’t cause anymore scenes.

  By the time we finished our conversation the room was bursting at the seams. It was the same room we’d been in when we learned about Bael, but this time everyone was present. People were standing in the back. All chairs were taken, and some had propped themselves on the long tables. The four of us stood against the side wall.

  The screen came on, and Top used a clicker in his hand. Someone dimmed the lights in the front of the room. A topographical map filled the screen.

  “This is Dugway,” First Sergeant said. He pointed to the entrance where we’d originally come in with the watchtower overlooking it. He pointed to the Army hotel on the outskirts of base where we all stayed. He pointed out the side exit of the compound inside the base where Remy went out each night to get to the greenhouse. Beyond that was a much larger structure he pointed at now.

  “This building housed the laboratories where bio and chemical warfare was once tested and stored. It has since been imploded, however our chemist—” he inclined his head to an older man in the front row who I’d often seen attending grief meetings, “—had the forethought to take necessary records and antidote samples, which he works on every day to restock our stores.”

  Next, First Sergeant pointed to a series of aircraft hangars. “In these we have three choppers, and two cargo planes. Enough to carry everyone in this safehouse if the need arises. We’ve got pilots ready for each vessel.” He peered around the room, meeting the gaze of three men, including Rylen, and one woman. My heart gave a great pound as I looked up at Rylen and received a don’t worry wink from him.

  No way. How long had it been since he flew a plane?

  “We also have one fighter jet which Captain King has agreed to fly as a defensive measure to ward off any air or ground attacks while our troops exit.”

  A murmur of whispers rose up and the four of us shifted our stances uncomfortably. Could Michael be trusted to protect us in his frame of mind? First Sergeant obviously thought so, but it was scary. Also, it could be a suicide mission, Captain King against all of whatever might come. If the DRI . . . er, Baelese, caught wind of what was going on here, they would mostly likely pull out all the stops to take us down.

  I looked over to where Michael sat, hoping we’d make eye contact so I could show him we weren’t hostile, but he kept his unfocused eyes squarely forward as Top went on.

  “The problem we face if we’re attacked during the night, is getting everyone from the hotel to these hangars in a timely manner. In the past week we’ve instituted measures outside of base to slow any threats—tire cutters on the roads and hiding rocks with armed soldiers farther out in surrounding fields. Our hope is that if we are attacked, we can keep them at bay long enough to give everyone time to get to these hangars.

  “Here’s the thing.” He paused and let his deadly serious eyes roam the faces in the room. “When the alarm sounds, you have eight minutes to get to the hangar. Eight. At the eight minute mark, those aircraft must leave or risk losing everyone. I do not want a single one of you left behind. I don’t care if you’re in the shower and you have to run out butt-ass naked and soaking wet. When you hear the alarms you stop what you’re doing and go. Move quick, but not panicked. Move as a team. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” we all murmured in chorus. My heart was in my throat, fluttering wildly at the thought of attack.

  “All right then. Everyone’s dismissed except you two.” He pointed over at Remy and me. We looked at each other with surprise. The room cleared out, but Tater and Rylen remained.

  Ry’s forehead was pinched with worry. “Mind if we stay with them?”

  Top glanced at us. “Fine.” The four of us sat.

  He cleared his throat and I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. “Captain King was not privy to insider information, but there were things he overheard during his time under the Baelese leadership. He revealed more last night to the chaplain after the, uh, episode.” He cleared his throat again and lifted a piece of paper with notes.

  “What does it have to do with Amber and Remy?” Rylen asked.

  “It’s specific to females. Females who were out there, in towns, after the war began. Females who had contact with DRI.” We all listened, their faces as baffled as mine. “There was talk of population control, one race among humans, and infertility shots given to masses of women at clinics.”

  Population control. Infertility shots. A dizzy spell smacked into me, and Remy grabbed my arm. We looked at each other, and her face reflected the absolute horror seeping through me.

  “They gave me a shot,” she whispered.

  “Me too.”

  Her voice broke. “But they were for the Red Virus, right?”

  “That’s what they said . . .” My voice trailed off as I remembered how those shots had affected us. We’d both been violently ill. We’d had cramps like menstrual cramps, but far worse. And come to think of it . . .”I haven’t had a period since then.” I assumed my cycle had stopped due to stress and lack of caloric intake.

  “Amber.” Remy’s hand tightened on my arm as her face took on a plastic sheen, then she bolted to the trashcan in the corner. I sprinted after her, getting to her side as she coughed and vomited. My own breakfast was halfway up my esophagus.

  Tater and Rylen were right behind us as I pulled her hair back.

  “I’ll get some paper towels,” Tater said. He ran to the bathroom down the hall.

  While Remy got sick, gasping through moans, and my own stomach and mind turned, and turned, and turned, I felt Rylen watching me. His eyes were loaded with emotion and questions. Tater was back now, handing Remy a paper towel that she used to wipe her mouth. She sat back on her heels and covered her face. She trembled, but didn’t cry.

  “We don’t know for sure,” I said, but Tops words ripped through me like a jagged knife. What if it were true? Remy would not be having children someday. And neither would I. Not that either of us was in any rush with the state of our world, but someday . . . who knows? The point was, they took that choice from us. They made us unable to repopulate.

  “Maybe that’s not the shot you guys got,” Tater said, as he crouched beside Remy.

  “God damn it,” First Sergeant muttered, his voice filled with anger. “I’m sorry to do this to you. I don’t know what this intel means. I don’t have any information on whether it’s something we can reverse.”

  “We have two types of ultra
sound machines,” came another voice from the doorway. The dentist.

  Top looked at us apologetically. “I told Captain Ward about it and asked him to wait outside.”

  “We can have a look,” the dentist said. “Run blood tests. If the two of you want.” He looked at Remy and me. She and I shared a glance and she gave a nod.

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “You all go,” Top said. “Take the day off.”

  He disappeared into the hall, and the four of us stood there like shells of ourselves. I didn’t want to think about this. I didn’t want to mourn people that didn’t even exist yet. I didn’t want to imagine the possibilities that were no longer mine to imagine. Rylen’s eyes were boring into me, but I couldn’t look up. Once upon a time I’d let myself imagine having babies with him. No, I couldn’t look at those eyes, knowing I could never mother his children. A shudder ripped through me as we left the room and moved down the hall.

  Try as I may to ignore Rylen’s presence, he took my other hand in his and held it. He was warm, solid, steady. And he knew me. I didn’t have to admit how broken I felt at that moment, because I was certain Rylen knew.

  We decided to go straight to the clinic rooms. I found the upright ultrasound machine, and the transvaginal ultrasound machine. A quick read through of manuals told me the transvaginal one was going to show us what we needed to see: a closeup of our ovaries.

  Tater hitched a thumb toward the door. “I’ll wait out there.”

  He and Rylen left us.

  “Should we wait for the dentist?” she asked.

  “Um, no. We’ll figure it out. I’m going to let you go first. You’ll lay back, and um, hold the device, you know . . . inside yourself.” Her eyebrows flew up skeptically, and I charged forward. “And I’ll tell you when to hold it still while I read the monitor. Team effort.”

  “Okay,” she whispered. I turned to get everything ready as she took off her pants and got on the table, covering her hips with a towel. She waited patiently while I looked through manuals and books. I found a picture of what normal ovaries and fallopian tubes looked like. I stared at the tiny dots of follicles, or eggs. Then I took a deep breath and handed Remy the transducer probe with a glob of lube on the end.