The Breeding Tree

by J. Andersen

  “Make sure you hide it, or others will notice. Better to let them think we were in here doing something scandalous.” Raking both hands through his hair, he makes it stick up in all directions and untucks his shirt. “Messy enough to start some good rumors?”

  I laugh. “Definitely!” But when he reaches for the door, I pull him back, giggling. “Micah! You can’t go out there like that!” He laughs as I wrap the half-eaten scone in a napkin. I set it aside and do what I’ve been dying to do since I first saw him. I run my fingers through his dark hair, taming it back into place. It’s silky, and the waves wrap around my fingers as I tuck them behind his ears. My fingers slide down his jaw, tracing the scratchy stubble along his chin and stay there.

  His eyes turn turbulent as his gaze flits across my face. Without warning, his calloused palms cradle my cheeks, and before I can think to pull back, his lips are on mine. Soft and hungry.

  The kiss doesn’t last long, but it’s followed by more that linger on my tingling lips. They take my breath away. I’ve never been kissed like that before. A small peck on a first date I had to report to the database because my mother nagged me about every intimate detail, but nothing like this. I want to hide this kiss. Not report it to anyone, much less to The Institute’s database. I want this kiss to be just for me and Micah—a secret we share.

  Finally, he releases me from his grasp and steps back. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He presses his eyes shut and runs a thumb and forefinger across his eyebrows, relieving the stress that’s gathered there. “This isn’t why I brought you the treat.”

  “No. It’s fine,” I say, as the hot flush returns to my face. I look at my feet. He opens his eyes and meets my gaze. “Really.”

  “Apparently, there’s something about you I can’t stay away from.” His shoulders relax, and his lips pull back over his teeth. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me again, which would be okay with me, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry.”

  “Really, Micah, it’s okay. Better than okay.”

  “I’m glad.” He glances at his watch. “We should probably join the others before they start to wonder what we’re doing.”

  “You’re right,” I smooth my hair into place.

  How did I go from thinking he might be an Institute spy to making out in the storeroom in a matter of four days? I probably should still be careful, but any guy who manages to get his hands on illegal scones for me and kisses me like that is on my Oh my … Yes! list. And I won’t say a word to anyone.

  With the remnants of the scone tucked safely into Micah’s bag—I left mine in the classroom—we exit. I’m met by Taryn’s questioning grin. Micah busies himself with some administrative work as he stands near the door. Sitting down next to Taryn, I lean over and whisper. “He showed me some new instruments we’re going to use in the next few labs.” It’s a lame lie, but with my mind spinning and my lips still tingling from his kiss, it’s the best I can come up with.

  “I’m sure,” Taryn says, clearly doubting my explanation. She raises her eyebrows at me, and I return her look with a shy smile. “That’s what I thought!”

  Dang! “Don’t say anything, okay, T?”

  “I promise, I won’t say a word, as long as you give details.”

  “Not much to tell other than he’s the best kisser I’ve ever known.”

  She beams and pats my leg. “About freakin’ time.”

  “Taryn, we’ve gone out once, and it didn’t go well. A bit awkward, actually.”

  “That’s never stopped me. I don’t even have to date a guy to make out with him.” It’s true, and I know Taryn won’t say a word. She’s done much more than kissing without reporting it. I still can’t believe she’s never been caught.

  A few minutes later, Micah announces to the group, “Time to head back to the lab, people. The chemicals should’ve set by now.” He leads the way, with me in tow followed by the rest of my classmates. It’s then that my phone rings. Micah glances at me with a questioning look. I hold up my finger to indicate I’ll be a minute and step to the back of the group.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Kate?”

  I don’t recognize the voice. “Yes, who is this?”

  “It’s Saul. Remember, we went out with your friend Taryn the other night.”

  Right. Mr. Freaky Torture guy. Why is he calling me? “Um, Hi. How did you get this number?” I know I didn’t give it to him. Then I get nervous.

  “Soldiers have access to personal accounts. I looked it up.”

  Creepy.

  I need to bring this conversation to a close. Actually, I need to bring this whole relationship to a close. Make it clear I don’t want to see him again. “Oh. I see.” I’m trying to sound cheerful. “Look I have to get going. I’m in the middle of a lab.”

  “Sorry about that. I just wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn’t mean to scare you off.”

  Great. He’s apologizing. Now how do I let him down? “It’s okay. It was … nice to hang out.” It’s the only thing I can think of.

  “Will you let me make it up to you?”

  Umm, pass …

  “Saul … It’s not a great time for me right now. I’m swamped with my studies, and I’m in the lab all the time.”

  His voice loses its luster when he says, “In that case, I won’t call again.”

  “Saul … I’m s—” But it’s too late. He’s already hung up.

  When I reach the lab, everyone’s already at their stations working. I slip my coat on and find Micah standing over a microscope. He glances up. “You okay? You look upset.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Who was on the phone?”

  “No one. Wrong number.”

  His eyes meet mine, and I know he knows I’m lying. But thankfully, he doesn’t push it. “Take a look at this,” he says. And I do. Because I’ll do anything to rid Saul from my mind.

  FOURTEEN

  CAUGHT

  Code of Conduct and Ethics: The Institute—Sector 4, USA

  Section 3 Article 2.8: ID badges shall be carried at all times.

  “YOU UP FOR A walk later?”

  Since our kiss, I’ve barely seen Micah other than in class, so when he offers a walk during lunch on Thursday, I jump at the chance.

  “I’ll meet you outside the Education Department doors at noon,” he says.

  “Sure.”

  Noon rolls around, and he’s waiting for me on the front steps, leaning against the stone wall lining the sidewalk. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, and he’s missing his usual attire: a lab coat. With the top few buttons of his shirt undone and his dark, wavy hair curling around the base of his neck, I want to kiss him. But I don’t. Too many people would see.

  He smiles and nods his head toward the walkway. “Ready?”

  “Where’re we going?”

  “Nowhere in particular. Just thought you’d enjoy the outdoors for a little while.”

  We stroll toward the tree line along the far side of The Institute’s borders and travel up the sidewalk near where I take Gran on our special walks. Since Micah and I have been there once before, I wonder if we’re headed there again. But instead of leading me to the clearing, Micah enters the line of trees a little farther down.

  “Are you taking me to the Outer Lands?” I whisper. Excitement bubbles in my gut.

  Micah smiles. “Not quite, but you’ll be able to see it from where we walk.”

  He’s right. As we hike along the riverbank barely inside the trees, I can see the fencing in the distance. It’s as close as we can get to the Outer Lands without crossing boundaries. A tease. But being here in the forest with Micah excites me enough. I don’t need the rush of rebellion just now. This is my opportunity to get to know him more intimately. Well, not that intimately.

  A tree branch bends toward us in the wind, and Micah reache
s up to snap off a branch. He twists the leaves off as we walk farther. “So, tell me why you chose the Creation Department? Aren’t plants your thing?”

  “Plants? Um. No. Definitely not.” The sound of crowds rushing down the sidewalk just inside the tree-lined border distracts me. “I think I wanted something different from what my parents do. My mom’s a criminal interpreter. Working with criminals doesn’t interest me in the least. And my Dad works at the Data Collection Agency. That seemed a little mundane to do the rest of my life, so I sought out biology. I was pretty good at it, so here I am.”

  “Do you love it?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “Because even if The Institute chooses what we do, we should be able to love it,” he states matter-of-factly. “How sad if we were stuck in a job we hated, with no way out, you know?”

  “But The Institute doesn’t make mistakes, remember?”

  He drops the twig and takes my hand in his. “Yeah, I know.” There’s a distant look in his eyes, but it fades when he cradles my face, pulling it closer to his for a kiss.

  When I pull back, I see movement over Micah’s shoulder. Through the break in the trees, I recognize where we are. The building where Saul works. And leaning against the door is Saul, staring right at us.

  I drop Micah’s hand, and we cross out of the trees and into the sunlight, walking straight toward Saul. I would have liked to have crawled back into the brush of the forest, but addressing the issue might be the best way to handle this predicament.

  “Saul?”

  He’s not impressed with my attempt to make conversation. Maybe it’s because I blew him off on the phone not long ago. Sorry, but talking about how to put people in pain is not my idea of a love connection. Apparently, it is for Saul.

  “IDs, please.”

  Crap! There will be no talking ourselves out of this one. Micah draws his wallet out of his pocket and hands it over while I dig for mine. “We were just enjoying the warm air on our lunch break, Mr. …?” Micah says.

  “Goodman.”

  “Mr. Goodman. Spending all day in the Disposal Center makes the eyes go buggy after a while.”

  “Disposal Center?” Saul asks.

  I jump in. “Yes, Micah is in charge of teaching proper disposal techniques to residents like me.”

  Saul flips my ID over in his hands without even looking at it. He’s too busy examining me and Micah. Probably determining if we’re worth the hassle of all the paperwork he’d have to fill out in order to report us. His eyes shift from me to Micah. “Stick to the sidewalks next time.”

  “Absolutely, sir,” Micah replies.

  We take our IDs and rush across the fading grass around the building.

  “That was close,” I say when I know we’re out of hearing range. Why on earth would Saul let us go? Especially after I denied him a second date. He’s got to be irate with me, so there’s no reason to be nice and let me off the hook. It doesn’t make any sense.

  “Too close.” Micah slows our pace as we near the education building. “So, you know that guy?”

  My eyes roll back into my head. Like Micah didn’t already know. He saw me leave the diner with Saul that night. “Had a date once.”

  This piques Micah’s interest, and he stops in his tracks and turns, waiting for me to continue as if he hadn’t seen us that night. “Really? Now that is interesting.”

  I grab his wrist and give it a tug to keep him walking. “You don’t have to play dumb. I know you saw us. But don’t worry, it didn’t go well.”

  He concedes with a nod and lets his hand slide into mine, lacing our fingers together as we walk. “Like our first date?”

  The sensation warms me, but I try my hardest not to look at our intertwined fingers. For now, I’ll revel in his touch.

  “Worse. Much worse! Believe me; you don’t want to hear about it, and I don’t want to tell.”

  We’re almost to the front steps of the Education Department. “Thanks though,” I say.

  “For what?”

  “Saving my butt back there with Saul. If you hadn’t mentioned the disposal unit, I’m sure he would’ve written us up.” I avoid his eyes. “Saul doesn’t like me much anymore. We didn’t get off to a great start.”

  “Sometimes knowing what they want to hear is half the battle.” Micah grabs the door. “After you,” he says, stepping aside.

  FIFTEEN

  SECRETS

  EACH PASSING WEEK BRINGS with it more work. Between Professor Limbert and Professor Donovan, who’ve taken to asking me to assist them on just about any menial task, I’ve been swamped. So by the time I get out of labs, it’s dark again. It doesn’t help that the days are growing shorter and shorter. It’s not terribly cold yet. No snow or anything, but the crispness of autumn is in the night air. How did the summer pass so quickly? Swinging my coat over my shoulders, I button it tight and wrap the grass-colored scarf several times around my neck. Gran made it for me when her hands could still hold the yarn steady. The wrap is tattered and some strings are tied together by my amateur hands, but it still holds its original beauty.

  Apparently, my bundled look isn’t a clue to Professor Limbert that I want to head home.

  “Katherine,” he calls as I’m walking out the door. “Could you file these papers for me before you leave tonight? They’re the fetuses marked for disposal.”

  Sigh. Here we go again.

  “I’ve been called on an emergency and need to leave now. These need to be in by the end of the night.”

  I glance around the lab; Stewart Johns is hovering over a Petri dish. There’s no way Professor Limbert would ask him. He’d screw up the filing system for sure. I’m sure he can’t afford another demerit for disorganization. Other than him, the room is empty.

  Sigh again.

  “Sure, Professor. No problem.” Code of Conduct and Ethics: The Institute—Sector 4, USA Section 3 Article 4.2: An upstanding member of our community always volunteers for any task—or in my case, gets volunteered.

  He hands me a stack of files and zips his briefcase while rushing out the door. “Thanks, Katherine. I knew I could count on you.”

  Of course, it’s not just two or three files. No. He’s given me at least fifty. Great. I’ll be here for another hour. With a humph, I trudge down the hallway to the records room, yanking the scarf off my neck with one hand as I go. Code of Conduct and Ethics: The Institute—Sector 4, USA Section 3 Article 1.9: All work should be completed with a joyful, healthy attitude. Nonadherence to this ethic will result in weekly counseling. Screw the Code of Conduct. There’s no one around to notice my grousing anyway, so I head down to the filing room grumbling under my breath.

  The hallways are quiet tonight; though by nine o’clock, this part of The Institute is usually calm, all the students having already gone home to download and memorize the next day’s notes. Perhaps there’ll be a few stragglers finishing up a lab, but as I walk past a few doors, no one is in sight.

  The records room is just down the hallway from the lab, and as I lean my weight into the door, I notice the lab door is ajar. No lights are on, so I ignore it. I’ll make sure to close the door when I leave, but right now, I want to get these files put away as fast as possible.

  Slapping the pile of manila folders on the counter, I whip off my coat. The less cumbersome I feel, the faster I’ll work. The faster I work, the sooner I can get home and fall into bed.

  “Numerical order first,” I whisper to myself, but in the silence of the room, it sounds like a scream. Once I have them in order, I start filing. Having to document files takes longer than I anticipate. I have to record the fetus’s number and the number of the potential parents on a separate chart before I place the file in the cabinet. Ugh. What a pain. But after a few files, I start to get into the groove and move a little faster. Professor Limbert gave me an access code to the fetal database, so I don’t have to do everything by hand, which is good. It saves time.

  I’m nearly to the end of the p
ile with an hour and fifteen minutes under my belt—so much for a decent night’s sleep—when I spot something out of place.

  I’m writing the numbers on the chart without thinking. Fetus: 1298732. Mother: 1205901. Father: 1200743, and I’m about to squeeze the file into the cabinet when I stop short.

  Not believing, I check the numbers again. Mother: 1205901. Father: 1200743.

  No.

  It can’t be.

  Wrestling my ID card out of my bag, I triple check.

  It’s not possible. An unauthorized creation.

  It’s my ID number. I have a baby.

  One marked for disposal.

  SIXTEEN

  A GOVERNMENT COVER-UP

  Code of Conduct and Ethics: The Institute—Sector 4, USA

  Section 2 Article 3.5: Honesty is always best. Whether young or old, a demonstration of truth is expected.

  IN A DAZE, I file the last few papers for Professor Limbert. The feeling of dread is so overpowering, my only thought is how quickly I can get out of here and end this living nightmare.

  A baby.

  My baby.

  I shake the thought out of my head for a millisecond, but it sneaks back in, crushing all rational thought. I go through the motions of locking up in a zombified haze.

  Closing the drawer, I press the lock on the top of the cabinet, safely shutting away the secret forever. Gone. I can put it out of my mind, walk out of this room, and forget I ever saw it.

  I suck in a deep breath, attempting to stop the shaking that’s taken over my limbs, but it doesn’t work, and soon, I find myself on the floor, hugging my knees.