“As long as our project analysis gets approved, the yields will be adjusted accordingly,” another scientist says stiffly.
I smile at him then look to the others. “I hope it does. Can one of you explain to me what you are doing so an ordinary Omaha girl who just waters the plants knows what you are doing with them?”
Half of the time in Omaha we don’t even know what we grow some plants for; we just grow them and harvest them as directed, and then ship them where they need to go. It’s interesting to see a use for our plants that could impact a bunch of people. I never really thought our plants would be used for research or make such an impact.
My comment gets a smirk from one of the scientists and he smiles before explaining, “We are stripping the oils from the plants. We are trying to use a mixture of oils to work as a booster for cancer patients. Think of it as a special vitamin of specific dosage for cancer patients, even specific to the kind of cancer. When you have cancer and undergo radiation and chemotherapy, it fries your immune system, essentially making it like a baby’s. So cancer patients can die from the simplest illnesses, such as a small cold or a stomach bug. We are trying to prevent that from happening. We can’t always re-vaccinate those patients either because sometimes the vaccinations are too rough for their fragile state.”
I shudder and think of the video of Henry’s mom. She was not well and kept coughing. Did she die from the cancer or from a regular, normally non-life-threatening illness?
Another scientist chimes in, “This concept in addition to the monoclonal antibodies injections created before Trident provide an environment stable enough for the body to stay healthy enough to fight the cancer. The injections help deter, and in some cases even stop, the cancer cells from duplicating.”
Okay, they lost me at “monoclonal antibodies injection”, but I’m going to try to keep up anyway. Goodness gracious, these people are nerds. They should have a pow-wow with October.
“Then theoretically speaking,” the original smart scientist speaks again, “if the injections are successful and can actually completely stop the duplication and growth of the cancer cells, the radiation should then kill the cancer cells as long as the body has an immune system that is working properly.”
“The hard part is in stopping the growth and the duplicating in cancer,” another scientist chimes in. “Until we can do that, cancer can and will always be a violent killer.” This guy seems to be the pessimist of the bunch. Someone forgot to pack rainbows and sunshine in his lunchbox.
“But,” I begin as I try to make sense of all the information they just threw at me, “if the body is working on fighting off the cells on the inside, it can’t fight off outside threats as well, so it is more susceptible to other illnesses. Which is why your concept should help the body focus solely on the cancer cells, thus making the body more efficient in its defense?”
Mr. Pessimist and another scientist exchange a look at one another and then nod their heads in agreement.
The first one who spoke to me looks at me surprised and says, “Exactly, Ms. Scott.”
What they are saying makes complete, perfect sense. I know all too well how trying to fight two different battles can be exhausting for a line of defense. Except in our case, we need to address the inside threat first and then take care of the outer one. Cough, cough, Hadenfelts.
“Ms. Scott, we really need to continue,” the guide sounds annoyed as he waits for my questioning of the scientists to end.
“I apologize,” I smile at the scientists. “I’m sorry to interrupt your work. I just find all this research fascinating. I want to know more than just the chapter summary.” I turn, looking at Attie and Maverick as we move forward. “You two never told me about all these projects.”
Maverick smiles proudly and Attie says, “Wait until you see what we can do with babies.”
As we leave that area, Lyncoln tickles my ear when he leans down and whispers, “Nice work, Regs.”
We continue to the next floor, which is the research floor for vaccination development, vaccination methods, and improvements on making all our current vaccinations safer. Just when I think one project can’t be more important, we go to another floor and I stand corrected. I find myself asking a few questions, but not as many as that floor where our guide got perturbed.
An hour later, I stand in the hospital and look through a huge glass window at the NICU where Attie works. Dozens of babies are connected to all sorts of machines. It is completely sobering. Some moms are there and some aren’t. Some can’t even hold their teeny, tiny babes yet. I want to reach through the glass and touch one of their insanely small hands. Even if I could, I don’t think I would do it. I would be too afraid to break them.
As we leave, I whisper to Attie, “I see why you do it.”
She nods. “Every township should be set up like that. Babies are our most important resource in this day and age.”
I can’t wrap my head around why each township isn’t. She’s right. Post-Trident, babies and population growth comes first. There is such an emphasis on producing new life, so why wouldn’t we use the technology we obviously have to help achieve that goal? Is it really because the more travel there is between townships, the more chances there are for the drifters? What a sorry excuse for allowing innocent babies to die when there is the technology out there to save them.
Sometimes, I am proud of our government for what we have accomplished in the wake of a world pandemic. Other times, I am ashamed. This is the latter.
Later, we have a formal dinner with the Vegas leadership and council. I am feeling exhausted already from the travels and meeting and greeting so many people, but I try my best to be social and make rounds. I feel a surge of pride and confidence when I realize that when we are in Omaha, my parents will now be able to be a part of this meeting because I made it this far in the Culling.
By the time the night ends, I’m more than willing to head to bed. We have a plane to catch early in the morning to head to Galveston and repeat this process. I can already tell by the end of the tour I will be totally emotionally drained. Maybe if I felt like we were a shoe-in for the final three I would be more relaxed… but I don’t.
The perk that keeps popping to mind is I did see Renae today. That means I should get to see my other friends along the way too. So regardless of feeling like a sinking ship, I feel in relatively good spirits as Lyncoln walks me to my room.
Lyncoln’s room is right beside mine. I’m not sure if that’s because he likes being close in proximity to me or because he’s concerned for my safety, but either way, I’m glad he’s there.
“You did great today,” he says as he drops me off at the door.
“So did you. You can be quite the charmer, sir,” I smile.
“Well, I’m not sure how, but I seemed to have charmed you,” he says affectionately before giving me a kiss on the temple. “Get some sleep, gorgeous. Tomorrow we have Galveston. I love you. There’s no one else I would want to be doing this with.”
I am taken back for a second by his rare frankness with his feelings.
“I love you, Lyncoln. See you in the morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to have Frank dress you.” I hear him snort at my words I as I enter my room.
This room is half, if not smaller than half, of my room at Mile High in Denver, but I don’t mind. I don’t even mind that the bed isn’t insanely soft. I change into pajamas, comb out my hair, and fall asleep almost immediately.
****
The next morning, by 0500 hours, Frank is turning on my lights and getting to work. Soon I am wearing a tight, mint green colored pencil skirt with a white top that flares at the bottom. Frank called it a peplum top, whatever that means. He styles my hair back and I smile like a lunatic. He rarely puts my hair back, so he knows I’m excited.
“Shush, darling. I’m putting your lovely hair back because the humidity in Galveston will kill any styling I try to do,” Frank scolds me.
I pretend to pout. �
��Oh, here I thought for a second you took pity on me.”
“Never, darling. Never. Your brunette hair is too naturally lovely to ever be up. Except for today,” Frank says determinedly and Gertie and I both laugh. If I must be up so dang early, at least it’s entertaining with Frank and Gertie here.
Lyncoln shows up forty-five minutes later and is handed his suit for the day, a navy suit with a navy striped dress shirt and a mint green colored vest and tie. He quickly turns to leave and change into it. When he returns, I roll my eyes at him, letting him know how annoying it is he can sleep in later and take considerably less time to get ready.
He shrugs and grins. As usual, Frank asks if he can style his hair and Lyncoln tells him no. Then Frank actually asks if he can apply a bit of makeup to freshen him up and Lyncoln has a small outburst. Gertie and I are in a tizzy of giggles. Of course Frank knows Lyncoln would never wear makeup, he was just harassing him anyway.
“Careful,” Lyncoln warns, fake threatening me across the room, “I don’t like being made fun of.”
I giggle harder. “Lyncoln James Reed. Assassin for the State. Bad boy military man. His Achilles’ heel which will lead to his untimely downfall? Makeup.”
He shakes his head and tries hard not to join in our laughter.
Dressed up and ready to go to the airport for flight #2, I can’t help but think that it should be illegal for Lyncoln to wear anything navy. It makes the blue of his eyes explode. I think my hormones might explode having to stand by him looking like that all day.
****
At Galveston, we basically do our schedule from yesterday backward. We have a late brunch with the council and leadership, then tour some of the refineries and other resource facilities. I’m grateful for this switch as I feel confident I will have more to talk about when we meet the general population. My predominate thought about being in Galveston though is that there is just a whole lot of water everywhere! And it’s still really hot for being “fall”. As I look across the vastness of the water and the Ocean, I have all sorts of ideas about irrigation canals in Omaha. If only we had a large freshwater source instead of all this sea water. Once a farm girl, always a farm girl, I guess.
Later, as we stand at the podium at an old conference center in what was once the city of Houston, I feel at ease with the Galveston people more so than the Vegas people. Vegas people are very smart, very driven, and very focused on their focal resource of biomedical sciences. Although Galveston has people equally as smart, they seem more laid back and more like a community. They seem more like home. With that thought, the butterfly feeling in my stomach returns and I remember tomorrow I will be in Omaha.
I begin our speech and point out some of the things I’m impressed with in Galveston. I give them credit for being the home of our current President and also make a joke about Galveston being the birth place of one of the most animated Culling contestants there ever was, meaning Trent. Lyncoln finishes up after me and talks about the importance of the oil refineries so our nation continues to have fuel, and the significance of that across all the townships, making Galveston the most vital and underrated township. Hearing him speak, I decide they should step up safety precautions here if they haven’t already. Cutting off our fuel supply would definitely put a damper on things.
Afterward, we stay around to meet the people. Listening to them talk, it occurs to me that though the President has lived in Denver the last thirty or so years, I can tell his roots were here. His charm and the way he drawls out some words are very similar to the manner in which people speak and treat each other here. He is just friendlier than Denver people typically are. And being here I now understand he was raised in a community which was that way; he was raised here. Denver has an air of importance about it since it is both the military center and “capital” of our nation. I hope that if my family gets relocated to Denver, we keep our Omaha attitude and values like President Maxwell did with his Galveston ones.
Lyncoln is charming as ever while we mingle with people, which is great since Knox, being from Galveston, is making it difficult to get a lot of votes here. More people are waiting in line to meet him and Attie than there are in the rest of our lines combined. I find myself not even bothered though. As long as it isn’t Marisol who wins, I think any of the rest of us are perfectly capable of running the country.
I really hope my family can move to Denver though. Win or lose, as long as there is a drifter situation, I should be in Denver with Lyncoln. I just hope I don’t have to leave my family forever. It might break my heart to know I will never be able to see them. I can, of course, stay in touch with them, but that isn’t the same as spending time face-to-face.
Putting such thoughts out of my mind, I start to really enjoy myself as we meet more people. Part of the reason is I like Galveston, and the other part is the constant reminder that tomorrow is Omaha. Just the thought of seeing my family and friends, not to mention introducing them to Lyncoln, has me so excited I can barely contain myself.
I finish talking to a kind woman and her children when I feel myself being lifted into a huge bear hug. “Thanks for the call-out, sweetheart. I knew you wouldn’t forget me so easy,” Trent laughs and spins me around. A few people turn and watch us, smiling as they probably remember my comment about him from my speech.
“Hands. Off.” Lyncoln demands threateningly although he is having a hard time being serious and it’s obvious. He never did like me spending too much time with the ever-animated Trent, probably because he knows his charisma is through the roof.
He smiles, puts his hands in the air in surrender, and rolls his eyes dramatically. “I know. I know. She’s all yours, dude.”
“How are you?” I grab ahold of his arm, not wanting him to go anywhere. I’ve missed him!
After dealing with the Isabella ordeal, not being able to say goodbye to the other remaining couples was hard. And I cannot imagine being in his shoes. Making it so far in the Culling and starting to build a solid relationship with Morgan just to be sent home, and so shortly after what happened with Oliver. He, of course, knows all about the drifters too, but can’t say a word about it. I can’t even wrap my head around what all that must feel like. I know I would feel lonely, to say the least.
He shrugs. “I’m as good as can be, I guess. I worry a lot. I miss Morg.”
“Do you stay in contact with her?” I ask sympathetically. He is living out my worst fear with Lyncoln. I was always terrified I would be sent home, never to see him or Henry again.
“Yeah. We email when we can. It just sucks. She is about to turn 21 and then she will be on her last year before she has to get married. How’re we just supposed to change gears like that?” he asks honestly.
“I don’t like it either. I couldn’t imagine.” I shudder and Lyncoln’s hand finds the small of my back. “I wish there was something I could do,” I add honestly.
“Just win it all, sweetheart,” Trent says with a laugh and then whispers loud enough so that Lyncoln hears, “We all know you are the girl for this. But I mean, if you would have given me the time of day, this thing would already be over.” He grins, looking from one of us to the other, trying to get a rise out of Lyncoln.
Oh, Trent. Ever the flirt. Trent even told me he was interested in me at the beginning. I didn’t think anything of it because he is just a naturally flirty person. As his feelings grew for Morgan, we were able to transition into friends seamlessly. Now we will forever be in each other’s friend zone, and I love it that way. How can you not get along with a guy like Trent? I miss his lighthearted presence in the Culling more than he knows. More times than not, he made all those lunches and dinners bearable.
I tease, “You mean already over because we would have already won, or because Lyncoln would have already killed you?”
Lyncoln laughs and Trent slaps him on the back like he is choking. “Is that a laugh? A real laugh? From the serious and mysterious Lieutenant Commander Lyncoln Reed?”
Lyncoln rolls his
eyes but smiles.
“Reagan, whatever have you done to this man?” he jokes.
“Nothing,” I say with an embarrassed laugh.
As Trent turns to gesture his family over to meet us, Lyncoln whispers in my ear, “Everything.”
Sometimes that man can just melt me.
Trent turns more serious and looks to Lyncoln, showing the respect he has for him. “Before my family gets over here,” he briefly looks to our watches but Lyncoln gives him a nod to continue, “With what you said in your speech earlier, I have noticed an increase in guards and guard shifts recently. Anything I should be concerned about, or are you just increasing security everywhere?”
Of course, all sorts of people surround us, but someone would have to be specifically listening in and even then, wouldn’t know what Trent was referring to.
“Everywhere,” Lyncoln says shortly with a nod. “Given what you already know, I’m sure I could put in a suggestion to Taggert to have you get in on some shifts here if you want. I’m surprised he hasn’t thought of it already.”
This makes Trent’s whole face light up. “That would be great, man.” But then his face gets serious again before he adds, “And what the hell did she do to get to Henry?” He points to Marisol and Henry being grossly cuddly and talking to people. I wonder how it isn’t completely obvious to people how fake she is from the way she laughs to the arm around Henry.
Lyncoln and I just shake our heads in response to his question and apparently look defeated.
“Don’t worry. You guys have got this. I am a man of great influence,” he jokes as his similar looking brothers and parents come over to meet us.
If only that were the case. Why does this feel impossible? Vegas will go to Maverick and Attie. Galveston to Knox. Denver to Marisol and Henry. How can we win with those odds stacked against us? The more I focus on Marisol and Henry, the more I feel hopeless. We have to win. We have to get those guards off Ashton, Olivia, and Wyatt. We don’t really have any other option.
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 8
