Crimson Return
Page 2
My mind wanders and I find myself staring at his lush lips as Marcus speaks eagerly about his work. My memory drifts back to our early days here at Ceborec. After we escaped Crimson, we were found wandering the Web and brought here to live. They already had a furnished apartment ready for Marcus, Evie and me to move into. I was so nervous, that first night with Marcus. I wanted him so badly, and he wanted me. But it was awkward, since we still didn’t really know each other that well and we had only recently regained the memories we had lost after our first escape attempt. Luckily, my broken ankle gave us an excuse to hold off physically. By the time it had completely healed, Marcus and I couldn’t have grown any closer. We were like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. The first night we made love was paradise.
I nod my head unconsciously while Marcus speaks, unaware of my conspicuous blank stare.
“I might as well be speaking another language,” he laughs. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying do you?” I grin, acknowledging his comment. Most of what he says about his work goes straight over my head. But I know he likes to talk about it so I always ask.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You know I don’t understand that stuff.”
“I know. Sorry to bore you with that. What about you? What did you and Evie do this morning?” Marcus asks.
I take Evie to preschool every morning. When we arrived at Ceborec I didn’t want to leave her with anybody but Marcus. But as a resident everybody is required to contribute in some way. I told Myra about my desire to teach and she placed me as an apprentice in the preschool where I can always be with Evie in the mornings. There are only six kids there, so it’s pretty quiet, and the head teacher, Lana, seems to view me more as a nuisance than an aid. But at least I get to spend more time with Evie. And I was given some textbooks to study in the evenings, although those focus more on how to discipline unruly kids rather than actual teaching methods.
“The usual. Lana is teaching them about shapes and colors. Then she berated me for paying too much attention to Evie and not the other kids. I didn’t think I was.”
“Lana’s just pissed that she’s got some competition now. Don’t let her get to you,” says Timber, reassuringly.
“Oh, I don’t. I just wish she’d pull that stick out of her ass,” I say. Turning to Evie I ask, “What did you two do this afternoon?”
“We saw snakes!” Evie said enthusiastically.
“We went to the library,” Marcus corrected. “Evie found a book about snakes that she couldn’t put down.”
Evie loves animals of all kinds, but she seems to be going through a reptile phase now. It must have started when Lana read a book called The Lizard of Bagizzard at preschool. She was obsessed with lizards for about a week. When she learned that snakes don’t have legs and must slither to get around, she’s became fascinated with them.
We all finish eating and as we are folding up the blanket, a female voice crackles over the intercom’s outdoor speaker, “Marcus Stygma, please report to checkpoint three immediately.”
“Damn. I must’ve left my pager in the room,” Marcus scowls, as he pats the waist and empty pockets of his jeans.
Because the facility is so enormous, they created the checkpoints in order for people to meet at a particular spot quickly. There are thirty checkpoints and we had to memorize all of them. I still haven’t gotten them all down yet, but the first ten are easy because they are in the more common areas. Checkpoint three is in the atrium, where the administrative offices are located along with the aerospace engineering department. In the center of the atrium is a huge holographic model of the Earth shuttle. Checkpoint three is a fairly common meeting area, so I don’t think Marcus has anything to be concerned about.
“Go ahead, we’ll meet you inside,” I say to Marcus. Timber, Evie and I finish cleaning up our mess while Marcus runs up the hill to the building. I roll up the blanket and toss it in the cooler along with the garbage.
“I think I’ll go see how Yoric is doing,” says Timber. “I’ll take your gun back to the armory if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” I smile, handing her the pistol. I know Timber has a thing for Yoric, but she won’t admit it. To be honest I think she’d be good for him. Even though he’s twenty-five years old, he acts like he’s twelve. He could use some of Timber’s maturity. I smile at the idea of hooking them up. I’ve never played matchmaker before, but I’d be willing to give it a shot for those two.
* * *
At the entrance of the building is a handprint-scanning system for security. All adults must scan their hands to gain entrance to the building. Evie is exempt, of course, so she crawls under the gate and waits patiently by the door for me to enter. Security hasn’t really been an issue here yet, but they’re not willing to take any chances on stragglers who wander past the perimeter.
I take Evie’s hand and we walk into the enormous glass domed atrium. In the center of the room, on the lower level, a crew of engineers are working on the spacecraft plans and fiddling with the computer systems surrounding the holographic model of the Earth shuttle. Encircling the central area of the atrium are railed walkways against the walls with stairways ascending the three upper levels.
Marcus is in the COPS central offices, deeply ingrained in a serious conversation with Chlamyra Rowan and General Granby, head of security here at Ceborec. Granby is a tall, lean and muscular man, a little younger than my father was judging by the sporadic grey strands highlighting his russet hair. His square jaw and heavy brow pose a sharp contrast to his gentle nature. I’ve met him a few times since I’ve been here, mostly in the armory. He is a very kind, temperate man, but hard and tough when he’s with his soldiers. He reminds me of my father, who I’ve grown to miss dearly.
Marcus nods and shakes Granby’s hand before leaving the offices and walking back toward us.
“What was that all about?” I ask, setting down the cooler next to me. Evie plops down on it, kicking her feet against the plastic surface.
Marcus’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “Granby’s organizing a formal militia. They’re worried about security now that the shuttle is nearing completion. He wants to recruit me.”
I drop my head and bite my lower lip. It’s too difficult for me to look him in the eyes. I don’t want him to see the pain in mine. Militia means he’ll put his life at risk for the safety of everyone here. I can’t bear the thought of losing Marcus after everything we’ve been through. I bite my lip harder when I feel the pressure build up behind my eyes.
“What did you say?” I ask, looking down at the floor. My voice is barely audible.
Marcus places his hands on my shoulders and rubs them, sensing my discomfort. “I said I would consider it. I told him I have a family now and I can’t jump to a decision without consulting you first.”
The tension building up within me diminishes and my muscles relax. I lean in to his shoulder, burying my face in his neck and fold my arms around him.
“Thank you,” I whisper in his ear.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Marcus says.
As I nod, a ruckus at the entrance of the building behind me tears Marcus and me apart. We both turn curiously toward the commotion as other onlookers gather around.
Two men dressed in light brown uniforms wearing helmets and visors—the Watchers—barrel through the front doors, dragging a one-eyed man who is writhing against their restraint. Watchers are what we call the men who stand guard at the entrances and the vast perimeter surrounding Ceborec. They are kind of like the Crimson Enforcers, except they are volunteers; not bribed or threatened like the Enforcers are. They guard the facility because they want to.
Granby, Sage—his second in command, and two other soldiers who often accompany him, march to the entrance to take charge of the situation. The struggling man wildly thrashes about and the Watchers are quickly losing control of him.
“Let go of me!” he shouts. My heart feels as though it has leaped out of my chest, stretching against
the tendons holding it in place, and I instantly feel like I am going to lose my lunch. I know that voice.
One of the soldiers that followed Granby raises a baton and thumps the flailing man on the back of the head and he falls to the floor, rolling over face up. I can’t resist moving forward to get a better look. Dread tugs at my heart when my eyes rest upon the man bearing an eye patch over his right eye. He’s still wearing the creepy indigo uniform of the Crimson Enforcers, though torn and grungy.
It’s my ex-fiancé, Glenn.
Chapter 3
“What do you think they’ll do to him?”
I lie on the bed staring straight up at the blur of the rotating ceiling fan blades. I try to keep my eyes focused on one blade as it spins around but the rotation is too fast and after one orbit the blade dissolves into the spinning gray circle. Marcus restlessly paces the floor of our quaint closet-sized bedroom. The room is fairly empty except for the double bed, nightstand and chest of drawers, but it’s all we really need since we don’t have a lot of things to take up space. Hanging on the pale blue wall is a single unframed abstract painting on canvas Marcus painted about a month ago. Empty cardboard boxes, which at one point in time stored lab equipment, are stacked in the corner in front of the narrow closet, waiting to be filled with our sparse belongings when we move down into the bunker in a few weeks.
We should be discussing Marcus’s offer from General Granby to join the militia, but I can’t get that image out of my mind. Glenn’s tattered body lying on the floor. And that creepy eye patch, what was that about? Was he trying to cover his eye as a disguise? What if he were sent here as a spy, to infiltrate the COPS headquarters? My happy, almost perfect existence is beginning to crumble around me like ancient ruins turning to ash and I’m helpless to stop it.
“They’ll take him to the clinic until he comes to,” Marcus says. “Then they’ll take him somewhere for questioning. Other than that,” he shakes his head, “I don’t know.”
“Do you think they’ll torture him?” I ask, envisioning the scars on Marcus’s back from his interrogation at Crimson, where Glenn took out his anger and jealousy toward Marcus through a brutal and savage whipping.
Marcus turns from me, obviously agitated by my concern for Glenn. “I couldn’t say,” he retorts, opening the top drawer of the bureau and peering in.
“Why do you think he’s here?” I continue, ignoring his rising vexation.
Marcus slams the drawer shut, snapping me out of my trance. I sit up instantly in alarm.
“I don’t know, Pollen. Look, I don’t want to talk about Glenn okay?” Marcus barks at me. I coil back on the bed wrapping my arms around my knees and hugging them close to my body. Marcus isn’t usually so snippy. In fact, I haven’t seen him like this since we were at Crimson and he thought I had joined the Enforcers. And I’m usually not so sensitive around Marcus, but my heart sinks a little, given the tone of his voice. He paces over to the bed and sits down next to my feet.
“I’m sorry, Pollen. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I just . . . I feel uncomfortable with him here. Knowing you two have a history. And what he did to us.”
“Marcus, you have nothing to worry about. History is exactly what Glenn and I are. I could never love him again, not the way I love you.” I take Marcus’s hand and sandwich it between my own.
“I can’t help feeling jealous,” Marcus says. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t,” I assure him. Although Marcus lets the topic go, the tension on his face remains. We sit silently in a moment that echoes those days we spent in the woods after our first escape from Crimson, when we woke up with no memories of the virus that destroyed the entire animal kingdom. There was that eerie silence as we wandered the woods together, not only from the lack of animals, but that ‘I just met you and I don’t know what to say’ feeling.
“What do you think I should do about Granby’s request?” Marcus asks, breaking the silence, but building upon the tension in the room.
I inhale deeply, blowing out the air in one quick gust. “I don’t want you to do it,” I say bluntly. “I can’t lose you Marcus. You and Evie are all I have.”
“You won’t lose me,” Marcus says. “There’s rigorous training and there’s no guarantee I’ll ever have to fight anyway.”
“But you might,” I mutter.
“Don’t you want to hear about the benefits?” Marcus asks.
“No,” I state impetuously. I don’t care about benefits. We have all we need right here. Steady jobs, healthcare, community. This place is a virtual utopia. There’s nothing we need that the COPS haven’t already provided us with. But Marcus will tell me anyway.
“We’ll be eligible for the first flight to A1D3.”
That hooks my attention and pulls me back. Ever since I found out about the Earthcraft, as I like to call it, and the state of our own dying planet, I’ve been dreaming about a new start on A1D3. I’d get to experience life on a planet untainted by human destruction. A place where the air is fresh, the water is clean, and there’s no need to spend half the year underground, although I’m not sure what to expect of the freezing temperatures. It’s the kind of thing I fantasized about since childhood, but never really thought it could be reality. This definitely throws a millstone in my argument.
“Eligible. Does that mean we’re guaranteed a spot?” I ask, hopeful that we may have a blissful future ahead of us.
“Not exactly,” Marcus says, crushing my hopes to bits of confetti. “There’s going to be a lottery. Only the names of eligible candidates will be included. If chosen, each will be able to bring up to three family members.” Interesting. Most people here don’t actually have any family members. There are only a few who have one surviving child. Or the occasional sibling. I think our family is actually the largest here with Marcus, Evie, and myself. The COPS don’t actually bother with technicalities such as nuptials. It’s assumed that if a man and woman are living together, they are a family. Which is fine with me. Sure I’d love to marry Marcus. But what is marriage really, other than two people living together? Just an overly stressful, money-wasting ceremony where two people flaunt their pretentious and exaggerated love for one another in front of a crowd of envious onlookers pretending to weep tears of joy for them. I could do without that.
“How many will be chosen?” I ask.
“I don’t know yet,” Marcus answers. “Look, if you don’t want me to join, I won’t. I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” I really want to be on that first flight to A1D3. But I don’t want to go without him. And I’m not willing to risk his life for that opportunity.
“I don’t want you to join,” I say flatly.
Marcus opens his mouth to speak when the squeak of the doorknob turning interrupts him and Evie shuffles in from the darkness.
“I had a bad dream,” she whimpers.
“Come here, sweetie,” Marcus opens his arms out to her and she fills them happily. Marcus has become such a wonderful, loving father to her, I sometimes worry that she’s forgotten who her real father was, my brother Drake. He was killed by a landmine in the Deimosian War, before the virus was released. I know he’d be happy with Marcus raising Evie. I wish he could have had the opportunity to meet him.
“What did you dream about?” Marcus asks, holding her close and rocking her against his chest.
“Uncle Glenn,” she says, and Marcus looks at me painfully. “And there was a fire. He looked mad. Is he dead?” Even though Evie was there when he was brought in, thrashing about, she made no mention of him earlier. She’s always so quiet I don’t really know how much she takes in. I didn’t realize that she had recognized him.
“No, Evie, he’s not dead,” I say. Her shoulders droop slightly and she looks a little relieved. Despite the problems I’ve had with Glenn, he’s always been good to Evie and she’s always liked him.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” From the way Marcus leers at me I can tell he had other, naughtier,
intentions for us tonight. Tempting as it is to give in to his wanton desires, I’m too concerned about Glenn to be intimate with Marcus right now.
“Yes, but just for tonight,” I say. Marcus silently accepts defeat and helps to tuck Evie into the center of the bed. He crawls in and snuggles next to her, while I get up to go to the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” Marcus asks.
“I forgot to brush my teeth. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I say. But that’s not fully my intention. I just need a few minutes on my own to gather my thoughts and compose myself.
The door clicks shut behind me and I lean over the sink, staring at my image in the mirror. My long chestnut hair, still damp from the shower I took an hour ago, is pulled back in a loose bun, revealing the infinity fly tattoo on my left temple. A faint pink line of taut skin across my face is all that remains of the scar I inherited when I crashed the van during my first escape attempt from Crimson and the shattered glass sliced my face open. Like the tattoo, it will always be a constant reminder of what happened and what I had to go through to safeguard Evie’s future. It also reminds me of what Glenn did to us. And for us.
I’m so torn over Glenn. I want to be angry with him and hate him. But he is also the reason we ultimately escaped and came to be here, living this perfect life. And as much as I hate to admit it, deep down there will always be a part of me that loves him. We were together for five years, had a child together, planned to spend the rest of our lives together. That’s a connection I can’t sever no matter what awful things he did to Marcus and me. But I’ll never be in love with him again the way I am with Marcus. That love died when he betrayed me to become a Crimson Enforcer.