Ghost Hope

by Ripley Patton

  So, no, I wasn’t eager to get to the dome. Terrified would be a more appropriate word, and I was nervous to see Olivia again. Away from the dome, we’d become good friends. Okay, probably more than friends.

  But I wasn’t exactly sure because we’d never really talked about it. And to complicate matters, she was maybe my girlfriend, but she was definitely my boss. Which is why I was there, finally, climbing into the truck with Lonan. Olivia and I had to talk. I had to tell her face-to-face.

  On the way to the depot entrance, I didn’t miss the shiny new fence towering along the property line or the signs designating it as Private Property of The Unified Umatilla Association. Lonan had done that. He’d gotten all the special interest groups to enter into one lawsuit against the government for joint possession of the land. And they’d won. Of course, that hadn’t been too surprising given the Umatilla documents Chase and T-dog had released exposing the original PSS event and the subsequent cover-up. The government and military had been so busy facing fall-out from that, they would have done anything they could to make themselves look better. As a result, the Umatilla property was now a community trust managed by a board of directors and presided over by Lonan himself. From what I’d heard, it was a thankless, difficult job trying to get such a diverse group to work together, but if anyone could do it, Lonan could. He was one of most level-headed human beings I’d ever met.

  We pulled up to the new main gate of the UUA. It had a manned booth now and the attendant stuck his head out and greeted us with a glowing smile, literally. He had PSS of the mouth. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said to Lonan in a lilting accent. Then he saw me and his face broke into a huge grin. “Mr. Jordan, we heard you were arriving today. I don’t know if you remember, but you recruited me six months ago in Belfast.”

  “Of course I remember you, Sean,” I said. “But you seem to have forgotten I go by David, not Mr. Jordan. And if you’ve been here that long, you must be a full-time staffer now. How do you like working at the dome?”

  “It’s a privilege,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough. Really.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “Now, how about letting us in?” I gestured at the gate.

  “Yes, sir.” He punched a button in the booth and waved us through.

  “You have quite a fan club here,” Lonan said, smirking. “I hear the female recruits hang posters of you over their beds.”

  “What?” I blurted, mortified. “Where the hell are they getting posters of me?”

  “Someone on the internet is mass-producing and selling prints of Gordon’s Ghost Heart mural,” he said. “There are several different versions. I’m surprised you haven’t seen them.”

  “Can’t you sue them or something? Don’t you own the rights to Gordon’s work?”

  “I do, and I could,” he said. “But I’m not going to. It’s free PR. You’ll just have to get used to being a sexual icon.”

  “No, I won’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out the window. Lonan thought it was funny, but it wasn’t. The more I’d traveled, the more I’d noticed people treating me differently. They knew who I was before I arrived. They respected me without question. They acted like I was better than they were, that I somehow deserved more. And it wasn’t my money. Most people didn’t know I had any. Other than the jet, I traveled simply and humbly, sleeping in hostels and cheap motels. No, it was because of my PSS chest and the rumors about what it could do. Rumors that weren’t even true. I couldn’t die and reboot anymore, and I made that clear any chance I got. But people treated me like some kind of Messiah anyway, and it was really starting to get to me.

  That was just another reason I couldn’t recruit anymore. It didn’t feel right. That’s what I’d come to tell Olivia. I had come to quit.

  Off in the distance, the dome appeared on the horizon, shining like a pearl in the sand.

  Just a few more miles and we’d be there.

  46

  OLIVIA

  My morning had been full of meetings, as usual. First, I’d gone over the weekly security report with Mike Palmer and Jason Williams. Mostly, it was about vetting and background checks for the newest batch of recruits coming in. Three of them had been flagged for further investigation, and I’d signed off on that. We had always been careful about who we let into the dome, but with the recent CAMFer attacks, we’d stepped it up a notch. That last thing we needed was a CAMFer mole in our midst.

  Then, I’d met with T-dog and Chase for an IT update. Our website and social media hits were spiking. The call center had been busy as well. People were scared. They were demanding the vaccine. Which was one more thing we could use to push the FDA along.

  My third meeting was just a brief stop-over in our training center to check in with Passion, Samantha, and Grant. They were revamping our two-week orientation track and they wanted me to look over the changes, but I had every confidence in the three of them. They were excellent teachers and the volunteers adored them. In fact, one of the recruits, Claire, adored Grant so much she’d become a full-time staffer and they were dating now. They weren’t the only ones. Jason and Allie had been an item for over a year, and the rumor going around was he’d been shopping for a ring. Love was in the air, and that’s exactly why I kept myself too busy to breathe.

  Anyway, after I left the training center, I’d gone over to see the progress on the renovation of the CAMFer side of the compound. Of course, both Mia and my mother had been there, overseeing every tiny detail. The Black-Lightfoot Memorial PSS Arts and Community Center was their shared vision and they wanted it to be perfect. The art gallery portion would feature the complete works of Gordon and my father, and they were working on collecting other PSS-inspired art as well. They were even going to have a listening studio for music, including some of Samantha’s original compositions. I hadn’t been over to the CAMFer side in a while and it was barely recognizable. My mother and Mia, with the help of some recruits and several contractors, were transforming the place of my nightmares into a beautiful, serene, space that would honor Psyche Sans Soma and everyone who visited it. I was so glad Mia and my mom were sharing this project. They’d become good friends in the process.

  After oohing and aahing over their progress, I headed to the new staff food court in the dome, grabbed myself some fries and a sandwich, and sat down next to the Kaylee fountain. I loved sitting by the fountain. In fact, there was a table reserved for me that no one else used, so close I could feel the spray of the water on my skin. As I stuffed a fry in my mouth, I looked up at the life-sized sculpture of my sister, beautifully rendered in melted metal and blue anhydrite by Mia. My sister’s hands were spread out, her pale eyes looking down at me, the clear water pouring over her like a blessing, the desert sky hanging above her.

  She had saved the world from itself. She’d given us all eyes to see what we were really made of, the part of us that was magic and stardust, energy and light, the eternal portion we’d always possessed, revealed by the consequences of a freak accident, yes, but still as real and significant as the flesh and bone we’d focused on for so long. I understood now what Kaylee had been trying to tell us. PSS had always existed. It wasn’t the composition of humanity that changed after the first accident at Umatilla, or the second. It was our ability to see and understand who we were that had been transformed.

  Even as I sat eating, people bustled back and forth, their PSS shining from within them. We’d gotten so used to it now, it was hard to remember when we couldn’t see it. It was like noticing what someone was wearing or the color of their eyes. The only big mystery left was why a few rare people didn’t have it at all, like Grant and T-dog, but Pete and Reiny were working on that and they had several interesting theories.

  “A French fry for your thoughts,” said my best friend, Emma, snatching one of my fries and plopping down across from me as she stuffed it in her mouth.

  “You’re supposed to pay for thoughts, not steal for them,” I pointed out.

  “
Yeah well. We both know you’re going to tell me anyway, but at least this way I get some food out of it. Let me guess,” she said, stealing another fry. “Were you thinking about your boyfriend?”

  “As a matter of fact, I wasn’t,” I said. “Because I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Right.” Emma rolled her eyes. “When’s your not-boyfriend supposed to get here?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He was vague.” Which is exactly why I’d been keeping myself so busy all morning. I loved Emma, and I’d been thrilled when she’d come to work at the dome after she’d graduated from Greenfield High. She fit right in. Anyone who’d known Emma before The Change hadn’t been surprised to see PSS shining out of her belly button like a laser pointer afterward. That was Emma. Straight and to the point. But that also meant I couldn’t hide my feelings from her. She knew I was a nervous wreck about Marcus’s arrival.

  “He’s been vague for a year and a half,” she said. “That’s the problem. So, are you finally giving him an ultimatum? I’ve seen the way Chase looks at you, Liv. You can’t wait around for Marcus forever. There are other fish in the sea.”

  “Em, it isn’t that simple. And in case you haven’t noticed”—I gestured at the dome, the people and everything I’d worked so hard to build—“I haven’t just been waiting around. There are more important things than—”

  “Olivia,” I heard Lonan call from across the dome.

  Emma and I both turned, and there they were, Lonan and Marcus, walking right up to us.

  We all exchanged the typical greetings. “Good to see you. How are you? It’s been so long.”

  Then, Emma excused herself because her phone center shift was starting, and Lonan said, “I’m going to check in with Reiny and let her know we’ve arrived. I’m sure you two have some catching up to do. Olivia, can you bring David by Reiny and Pete’s quarters for dinner? You’re invited too, of course.”

  “Sure. Okay,” I said, as Lonan walked away.

  Marcus glanced around the dome, taking in the food court, the people, the Kaylee fountain. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, his eyes lingering on the sculpture as he sat down. “It feels right.”

  “Thanks.” I sat down across from him and pushed my food aside. “We’ve done our best to honor her.”

  “Olivia, I don’t want to drag this out.” He reached across the table and took my hands in his. “I think I’ve already done that enough.”

  My heart was in my throat, pounding like a drum.

  “I came here to tell you I can’t recruit anymore. I’m tired of life on the road, and I don’t like the way people have started to idolize me. It feels too much like The Hold, and the last thing I want is to become my Uncle Alex.”

  I looked down at our hands. Was he quitting or breaking up with me? Because if it was the latter that seemed grossly unfair given I’d had no idea we’d been together.

  “So,” he continued, “I talked with Sam and we came up with a plan. She thought we could create a new track for the staff and volunteers who want to become recruiters themselves, and I can train them. I’m not sure if I’ll be a good teacher or not, but with her team helping me, I think I could learn.”

  “And you would do that here, at The Center?” I asked, daring to hope.

  “Yeah,” he said, twining his fingers through mine “But only if you’re okay with it. Either way, I’m not traveling anymore, but I was hoping we could—I mean, I know it’s been a long time, and we’d have to start from the beginning, but I think I finally know who I am, and what I want—so, I thought maybe, if you’re still interested—”

  “Yes, David Marcus Jordan,” I said, beaming at him. “I’m still interested.”

  Then we both stood up, stepping around the table, and he took me in his arms, kissing me beneath the fountain of Kaylee.

  THE END.

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  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to thank my imagination, which has kept me company all these years and been a great source of comfort and entertainment.

  I would like to thank my penchant for worry. Without it, I couldn’t possibly have conceptualized this story into being with all its complex twists and wonderful surprises. Spending a lifetime envisioning every possible bad scenario really can come in handy.

  I would like to thank the terrors and horrors of my mind, the things that scare me most, because they drove me to write my fears away (or at least onto the page where others can read them).

  Finally, I would like to thank myself for being strong and giving me permission to do this thing I always wanted to do.

  If I never write another thing, I’m proud of this series.

  P.S. I’m totally going to write another thing.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ripley Patton is an award-winning author who lives in Portland, Oregon with one cat, two teenagers, and a man who wants to live on a boat. She has also lived in Illinois, Colorado, Georgia, Indiana, and New Zealand.

  Ripley doesn’t smoke, or drink, or cuss as much as her characters. Her only real vices are eating M&Ms, writing, and watching reality television.

  To learn more about Ripley and what she’s going to write next, be sure to check out her website at www.ripleypatton.com. You can also sign up for her monthly e-newsletter there to keep up-to-date and win cool prizes.