“We are waiting too,” I admit.
“Your decision, I assume?” she asks with a look that has me giggling. Everyone knows Lyncoln is intense and… aggressive.
“Kind of. I mean, yes, that is what I want… I think… but he seems to be even more adamant about it than I am sometimes…” I shrug dramatically.
She smiles. “Is it a religious thing for either of you?” she asks, not a hint of judgement in her blue eyes.
Attie has asked me questions like this before and we know where each other’s’ beliefs lie even though talks of religion are far from the norm these days. Attie isn’t really a firm believer in anything, but she says there are too many miracles and things that happen when they medically or scientifically shouldn’t for her to not believe there is something more out there, a bigger power.
“Do I still believe in God? Yes. But, it isn’t just about not doing it until marriage because that’s what we should do.” I pause, thinking. “My mom always told me that if someone can’t love you, really love you, without sex, they will never love you with it. And I feel like it’s such a personal and passionate thing, it’s like giving over a piece of you. I just want it to mean something,” I shrug as I struggle to completely make sense of my own feelings on the matter. More than once Lyncoln has tested my resolve about this whole waiting business.
She nods. “Very well put. And for Lyncoln?”
“I haven’t asked,” I admit. “I don’t know what he really believes, but I know he is playing the part of a gentleman. He says that he wants everyone else to respect me as much as he does. So not even any sleepovers.”
She nods. “Interesting. That is odd with his bad-boy image and all,” she laughs.
I make a mental note to ask him later. Sometimes I feel like Lyncoln and I know each other better than we know ourselves, and then other times I am reminded that we have only known each other for a few short months. What are his beliefs? I don’t even know. I could tell you every political stance he has, but when it comes to religious beliefs, I don’t have a clue.
“How about Knox?” I ask.
“Oh, he would prefer to do it before, or even now, but he is just as nervous about it as I am, which honestly makes him even more endearing.” She pauses to grin, “As for religion and the whole ‘Is there a God?’ thing, he is in the same boat as me in that he doesn’t know what to think but hopes there is.” She pauses, “But, with sex in this day and age, it’s all about the population and the numbers. Sure, we promote marriages, but babies out of wedlock aren’t frowned upon. And the marriage law is in place solely to ensure the numbers grow. I agree with you though, it needs to be more meaningful than that. Creating a new human being, having a baby, should never be a chore and something you must do. It isn’t just biology, and it’s not just about the numbers. It’s way more than that. It’s the most beautiful form of art that we have.”
I nod, agreeing. The way Attie thinks about things and processes things is so poetic. I love these talks with her. I feel a sense of peace just listening to her speak.
And as far as religion goes, post-Trident, it was and is basically extinct. If there was a God, no matter which religion’s God, why didn’t he save his people? Why did he allow everything to be destroyed after promising not to? It took many, many years for some people to start getting past the bitterness of losing people they loved and start wondering why it was that as many people made it as they did, and why any of us survived at all when it looked like for a time none of us would.
We are far from the days of going to church on Sundays though. Churches are definitely extinct. My parents always read the Bible to us. When I was little we listened because of the entertaining stories, Noah and the ark, Jonah and the belly of the whale, and Mom’s personal favorite when Ashton and I didn’t get along was Joseph and his coat of many colors. It was a long, long time later that I realized there was more to the Bible than just far-fetched stories.
And there is so much good in the world, even when the world is in some of its darkest times, I can’t help but believe, hold on to that hope. Those Bible stories have probably impacted me more than I often stop to recognize. My faith may be fleeting and fickle at best, but it’s still there, beneath the surface, integral to the foundation of who I am, constantly helping my moral compass figure out right from wrong in this very, very gray world.
“Do you think it’s weird that we all coupled up so easily?” Attie asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Part of what took me forever and kept me dragging my feet about Knox was that I was wondering if I truly cared for him, or if the Culling, this situation, was forcing me into it.”
I think about that a moment. “Of the final four of us, three couples genuinely care for one another and will probably tie the knot one way or the other, and one is a totally fake relationship.” I process out loud. “And, of course, I have thought the same things, but I also know that all the personality tests and everything they put us through is designed to help speed along the dating process.”
She thinks about that a moment, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Yeah. They want a strong relationship in the Presidential Couple. It doesn’t have to be real, but that is ultimately what they want and in a short amount of time, too. Seems a bit far-fetched on the outside looking in.”
I nod in agreement. “Yep. But that’s the reason for all the fancy balls, projects, socials, and such. I wish the Culling was longer, and especially gave us more time at the point where we first combined with the boys, but I can’t complain too much because it did give me Lyncoln. It’s a crazy process, but in this Culling’s case, it seems to be working.” I stop and laugh, “Well 75% of the time anyway.”
“And speaking of the fake relationship, anything new on the Marisol and Henry front?” she asks.
“Not really. Although Henry does think her dad beats her,” I offer.
“Seriously?!” she asks outraged, sitting up at attention.
We can speak in confidence here. We don’t have our watches on, and my room is safe from Hadenfelt’s ears. I nod. “Although it doesn’t excuse her behavior, it might definitely explain why she is so darn cold. And… relentless.”
Attie nods.
An idea comes to mind, but I’m not sure how I feel about it.
“What?” she asks, probably seeing the weird look on my face.
“We should invite her over for a movie later,” I offer though it’s about the last thing I want to do.
“What?” she asks again, taken aback.
I smile. “A kind friend of mine once said to ‘kill them with kindness’.”
She shakes her head smiling at my reference to her. “Okay, but that was before her dad tried to kill you.” She pauses. “I can’t believe we are actually considering this. And not here. Her dad will think we are up to something. It has to be somewhere he can see and hear us.”
“Good call,” I offer.
****
Hours later, after checking in with Lyncoln and Knox, we change into our pajamas early and set up the lounge on our floor for a movie night. Sarge is filled in on our plans and can’t believe we are trying to befriend the enemy, but he helps us anyway being the good sport he is.
We walk down the hallway nervously and knock on Marisol’s door.
No answer.
We knock again.
No answer.
“Look, we know you are in there, Marisol, your guards are here,” I say loudly to her door.
She opens the door, as malicious as ever, and snaps, “What do you two want?”
Attie gives her a sweet smile. “We are going to watch a movie in the lounge on our floor and we were wondering if you wanted to join us?”
If Marisol is surprised she doesn’t show it. She rolls her eyes. “What? With Elizabeth gone you need a new replacement for the three musketeers?”
“You definitely can’t replace her.” I stare her down, setting her straight, smiling sardonically. “But we wanted to know if you wanted to hang
out with us anyway.”
“I have plans with Henry,” she responds, glaring at me with her chin in the air all snotty like.
I feel like she just made that up just to piss me off. Does she really have plans with Henry? Doubtful.
Don’t punch her. Don’t punch her. Don’t punch her.
I smile, though her cruel attitude towards our nice gesture is starting to tick me off. Why again are we trying to be nice? “Okay. That’s fine. Just thought we would check.”
As we walk down the hallway Attie whispers to me, “Some things never change.”
****
Surprisingly though, about thirty minutes into our movie, Marisol saunters down the hallway. She has her typical confident and haughty look on, but from her fidgeting on the balls of her feet, I think she is feeling uneasy. I don’t understand why because she has plenty of girlfriends and lots of them were in the Culling with her. So why is she so uncomfortable around us?
“Hey,” Attie smiles.
“My plans got switched to tomorrow,” she says with plenty of extra attitude. And if her nose was any farther in the air, it would probably hit the ceiling. “And I figure it will probably look good to the Board if I have some girl time.”
I try with all my might to not roll my eyes. Or deck her. Or pull her fake eyelashes off and stomp on them. “Well, grab some popcorn then. We just started so we can start it over for you,” I offer, ignoring the fact that she is only hanging out with us because of how it looks.
It’s always about the votes with this one.
Fortunately, the movie provides the opportunity to hang out with Marisol without having to actually hear her speak. I don’t even have to look at her either! Afterwards, she seems to have loosened up a bit though she didn’t find the funny parts nearly as humorous as Attie and I did.
“When you guys said a movie, I wasn’t thinking of an animated movie,” she says. I’m not sure if she is making fun of us or trying to be playful.
“What’s wrong with animated movies?” Attie asks.
“They’re the best,” I smile defensively.
Our conversations aren’t deep, but she seems a little more comfortable with us at the end of the night than she was earlier. It will be a long time though, if ever, until we can get her to tell us about her dad.
I always thought she was just a snake. Now I am starting to see that there may be more of a reason of why she is the way she is. And if her dad really is violent toward her, if I was in her shoes I would feel helpless and completely alone.
Darn it. It was easier to just hate her, no questions asked.
****
I’ve already fallen asleep by the time Lyncoln makes it to my room. He sets an alarm and lays beside me on top of the covers. He is behind me, resting his head on the top of my hair, with my back tucked into his chest, and my head under his chin.
“Hey,” I mumble sleepily.
“Hey, gorgeous. Go back to sleep.” I can feel his breath on my hair just before he starts combing his fingers through it.
“Tell me about your day first?” I ask, trying not to be bitter about being kept away from DIA.
He yawns. “Not very eventful. Just figuring out the best way into their compound.” I’m sure if I could see his face I would see just how tired he really is.
“Lync?” I ask, thinking of my conversation with Attie earlier.
“What, babe?”
I ask before I lose all courage, “Do you believe there is a God?”
“I didn’t for a very long time, no. Now I do. Have for a while. Why?” he asks surprised.
“Just wondering if that’s why you’re so sure we aren’t… crossing lines… until we are married,” I explain, half mumbling the words together still tired.
“Well. I mean, I didn’t believe in God for a long time. Did when I was little because my dad did. Then when he died I was sure that there was no God, and if there was I didn’t want anything to do with him.” He pauses to sigh. “But then in the military, I started to maybe think otherwise about five years ago. You would be surprised how many of us military guys believe in a higher power. You kind of have to when you do what we do. I’ve survived plenty of situations I shouldn’t have.” He’s quiet for so long I think he’s done speaking, but then he adds, “And then I met you.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask with a yawn, trying to keep up and still feeling a little groggy.
“I knew when I met you it confirmed there had to be a God,” he says almost emotionally and kisses my hair just above my ear. He then whispers, “You are my saving grace, Reagan Grace.”
“Oh,” is all I manage to say as I feel my eyes sting and burn.
“So I suppose that is part of the reason,” he continues simply, “but probably not the biggest reason. It’s part of it. Just not all of it.”
“So why then?” I ask softly.
“I have made so many mistakes in my life. I just want to do our relationship right. I want your mind and your soul before I have your body. I just want more with you,” he says softly. “You are the thing that feels most right in my life. Therefore, I want to do every part of us right.”
“Wow.” I catch my breath at his beautiful words.
He’s on a roll tonight. I’m having a hard time remembering why I was mad at being kept away from DIA today with all the smooth talking he is doing. It’s totally working.
“This is pretty heavy for pillow talk, gorgeous, and I am exhausted.” I hear him yawn again.
“Sorry,” I apologize and roll over to face him, cuddling into his chest. “Let’s go to sleep.”
It takes mere minutes for his body to relax and his breathing to get heavy. I lay there until the alarm goes off thinking about what he said. I reset the alarm for a few hours and let him stay longer.
I’m pretty sure he has all of me already.
Chapter 20
The next morning Lyncoln is gone and at DIA before sun up. I know because even as I ride over there with Attie at the ungodly hour of 0600, he has been long gone. Attie and I are both dressed in black gear, not because we have to, but because we are used to having to for sims and practicing at the shooting range. And because today seems important.
Although Attie and Knox will be at DIA the entire time, Attie will be doing her research as normal, keeping up appearances that no one really knows what is going on with Red Hawk. That and she’s told Knox and me that she can’t bear to be in the room if something were to go wrong. She’s a softie. She wants to be in the loop, but she doesn’t want to see it all go down. I can respect that.
We all have to keep working under the presumption that Hadenfelt is dirty and made some kind of a deal with the drifters. Henry, of course, knows all about Red Hawk. Marisol knows there is a secret mission called “Red Hawk” going on, but she doesn’t know what it’s about, nor does she think any of us, besides maybe Lyncoln, knows what is going on either. In reality, everyone but Marisol knows the basics. Or so we hope. Attie doing research and staying away should help the façade that no one is in on Red Hawk.
“Just think, in twelve hours, we should know more.”
Attie’s optimism at this time of day somewhat annoys me. Morning people. I just don’t get them. Until I have had my morning tea and been awake for no less than an hour, I can’t handle optimism. Or anything really.
“Good, bad, or ugly,” I point out.
She puts a hand on my shoulder and my annoyance with her fades. “It will work out, Reagan,” she smiles supportively.
“I sure hope so.”
After arriving, Jamie and I get to the Red Hawk command center, which is Taggert’s office since they don’t want Hadenfelt listening in and they only want certain people in on the mission. More people are crammed into his office than I thought possible. Instead of one large table in the middle of the room like there usually is, there are three rows of long, skinny tables. A man sits at each computer, with at least six computers in the room. At the front of the ro
om is one large screen showing a ton of different information, including some roughly drafted blueprints of the current drifter compound. It smells like military boots, paper, and a mod-podge of colognes mixing within the room. It’s a strange smell I think I may just remember forever. Like rubber and aftershave and school supplies all rolled into one weird combination.
Jaden is there, at one of the computers, typing furiously with a headset on. Taggert, Lyncoln, and Becker all have them too as they pace around and look at the big screen, going from person to person. It’s organized chaos and the mission hasn’t even really gotten underway.
Taggert, although seeming very busy, waves me over. He puts the microphone of his headset up and greets me, “Good morning, Ms. Scott. Today is the day. The team is running slightly ahead of schedule and should be there around 1200 hours. I had one of my men set up my personal desk for you so you can listen in without feeling like a bother, just as you requested.”
I feel relieved. Walking into this room as someone who hasn’t seen or been a part of a single mission before, I would love to let them work and not be in the way. I mean, I would love to stay in this room with them for the mission, but my sense of responsibility just cannot handle that. Lyncoln assumed I would want to be in the command center with him, and a part of me definitely wants to be, but the woman that cares for her friend in Samson could not bear to be there, all poised and graceful, should something go awry. Underneath it all, I’m just as big of a softie as Attie is.
I need to be somewhere I can ugly cry if I need to. I need to sit this one out. Emotionally, that is all I can handle right now. This is not my strength. This is Lyncoln’s strength. He needs to be in there doing his thing. Days ago, I told Lyncoln as much and requested to be here, but not in with the commanding of the mission. Kind of like the viewing room for interrogations. I want to see what’s going on and how they run the mission, but I don’t want a role in it. Or any bigger of a role than I already have.
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 28
