Reign: Populations Crumble, Book 3

by K. A. Gandy

  Calivada

  There is a new urgency in the air, and the breakfast platters are dropped without fanfare on the table after Helena announces we’re leaving in thirty minutes. Glitch is brought in and we all rise and hug him, after which he sits at the end of the table and sips a cup of coffee. He fills us in on his own abduction while we eat as much as we can hold, which unfortunately for me isn’t all that much before it’s time to leave for the next leg of our trip.

  Helena has barely risen from the table when something strikes me. “Wait! Helena, what happened to Peter? Glitch is here; the four of us are all here. Where’s Peter? Is he okay?”

  Her brow furrows for a moment in confusion, and she turns to Brock, who answers instead. “Peter, the police captain? I believe he was left incapacitated at the scene. Well, assuming he wasn’t dead,” he adds with a shrug, and I feel my insides start to boil, as I rise from the table.

  “What do you mean, assuming he wasn’t dead? How is that even a question?” My voice rises in pitch, and it sounds shrill even to me.

  “Listen, little girl, when we have a target to pull, that’s our main priority. I’m sorry if you got overly attached to your head of security, but based on your reaction it sounds like we did your husband a favor.” He takes a dismissive swig of his coffee, clearly considering the conversation closed.

  You arrogant son of a —

  My thoughts blur into an unintelligible haze of anger. Without a second thought, I pick up my almost-full glass of orange juice and toss it directly into his smug face.

  “That man you dismissed as just another NAA police captain was my brother and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat his life as collateral damage! Now, how the hell would he be dead, if one of your men wasn’t to blame?!”

  His face pure thunderclouds, Brock rises so slowly from his seat it feels like I’m watching an ancient mountain rise from the sea. By the time he straightens to his full height, my neck is craned back to look up at him, but I don’t care one whit, and I don’t back off.

  “How. Dare. You. You five troublemakers are here on our good graces, and you have the audacity to throw a drink in my face? I ought to load you all up and have Mav drop you in the swamp!” He yells so loudly that a flock of cranes takes flight from the nearest clump of trees.

  Patrick is on his feet in half a second, arm stretched in front of me in defense. “I think you need to calm down, Brock, and remember that you shouldn’t speak to my wife with anything less than respect.”

  Helena reaches up and places a hand on his broad shoulder, but his gaze never strays from mine, and the sneer on his lips tells me exactly what he thinks of me.

  I don’t care, you heartless bastard. I’m not scared of you.

  “I’m sure we can have one of our people follow up and get a status update on your brother, Sadie. That wasn’t in the file, so we weren’t aware of the familial connection.” Helena’s voice is even and diplomatic, but the truth is in Brock’s hate-filled eyes. These people may be temporary allies, but it’s not our best interest they’ve got at heart; it’s their own. And I won’t forget it.

  “Yes, Helena, please do. I think we’ll wait out front for our transport.” Atlas’s voice from my other shoulder startles me, but it’s reassuring to see him on his feet too, looking menacing at my right shoulder. A gaze around the end of the table shows Glitch and Nell right behind him, also up and looking affronted on my behalf.

  They may be new friends, but they’re real friends. I think to myself as we walk out the door. I can hear furious, hushed whispers behind us as we cross back into the kitchen, but I don’t care. My heart is heavy, wondering about Peter. Please be okay, Peter. I’ll never forgive myself if you aren’t.

  ✽✽✽

  The trip to the Resistance compound in Calivada was not a pleasant one. After our confrontation at the breakfast table, Brock apparently decided to be petty, and only have Mav fly us to the nearest way station. After she dropped the five of us off, we were met by a small white van, similar to the one that dropped off Glitch, and with none of the luxurious extras the NLC flaunted at every turn.

  The following hours were cramped, hot, and filled with stops to let Glitch out to vomit on the side of the road. Each time we stopped, my stomach tried to crawl up my throat in commiseration with his. As a result, I skipped lunch completely besides sipping a cold soda. Patrick looked concerned, but let it pass when I begged off.

  Now, finally, as the sun’s about to set, the driver lets us know that we’ll be pulling into the compound momentarily, and we’re all looking out the windows with renewed interest. We come around a bend and are greeted by a gate set in an over-large stone wall. It extends as far as the eye can see ahead of us, and I’m shocked by the sheer size of the thing.

  How is this here—and this huge—outside of NAA reach? It’s a question I’ll have to save for Patrick later. He didn’t seem thrilled to be with the Resistance, so I’m sure he’s got information on it, if I can stay awake long enough to hear it tonight.

  The van driver pulls up to a massive, camera-studded gate, lists his name and credentials, and removes his glasses for the nearest camera. A moment later we hear the whine of a motor and the gate inches backwards at a snail’s pace. Once it opens, the driver zips through and proceeds down a twisty driveway at a much too rapid clip. I try to focus on the clumps of sawgrass lining the driveway—and not my heaving stomach—but, after two minutes, my mouth starts to water unpleasantly and I can’t take it any more.

  “Stop the van, please! I’m going to be sick.” I yell before covering my mouth. My belly starts to heave before we’re fully stopped, and I yank the sliding door open and stumble out. I barely miss tripping into a large, sharp-leafed plant before I retch up the half sandwich I’d eaten at our last stop. The nausea is gone almost as fast as it appeared, and my awareness of my surroundings finally returns. Patrick’s warm hand on my back is both comforting and mortifying, given what he just witnessed. Before I can comment, he presses a napkin into my hand, and kisses me on the temple.

  “One second, Sadie. I’ll get you something to rinse your mouth out.” He half-jogs to the back of the van, and gets a water bottle and a lemon-lime soda from the cooler in the back. I can still see the last broken pieces of ice sliding free when he hands me the water.

  After a good swish, I feel much better, and thoroughly embarrassed by the audience for my moment of illness.

  “Better now?” Patrick asks with a smile, and I fall just a bit more in love with him as I take in the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, and the kindness in his gaze.

  I nod in response, and the burn of embarrassment in my cheeks starts to fade.

  “Good,” he says, brushing a piece of dark hair back from my face. “You look a little pale. What do you say we walk the rest of the way? We’re only about a half mile away, and the fresh air will probably feel better than getting back into the van. But, it’s up to you.”

  I can’t contain my shudder at the idea of getting back into the van. “Yes, a walk sounds great.”

  Without another word, he leads me gently by the hand to the driver’s door, whose window is rolled down. “We’ll walk the rest of the way. Which house is ours?”

  “You’re in 1712.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  With a wave, the driver speeds off into the falling night, and I’m grateful to be off the wild ride.

  We walk hand-in-hand, unhurried, down the gravel drive. For a moment it feels as if we’re any two people on a lover’s stroll. The breeze is balmy, the tang of salt in the air confirms my suspicion that we’ve come nearly to the Pacific Ocean and, just for now, it feels like everything is going to be okay.

  Eventually, Patrick breaks the silence. “Sadie, I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to feel . . . well, I don’t know. Pressured? Upset? I’m—actually, I’m not even sure how to ask, but—” He stops and runs a hand through his perfectly floppy hair.

  Rather than let him stew, I cu
t to the point I know he’s trying to make. “Patrick, I think I might be pregnant.”

  A surprising amount of fear at speaking the words aloud runs through my veins, spiking my heart rate. How is he going to react? Is he going to be happy? He didn’t look happy to be asking, I think warily, the thoughts bouncing in my head almost as quickly as my heart is pounding in my chest.

  He stops dead in his tracks, and turns to face me.

  “Do you really think so? I mean, there was that announcement right before we left, but we never found out what it was. It could have been anything, but we have no way of knowing now.”

  Here it is, the moment of truth. “Well, there’s no way to be sure, but I think it’s possible. We’d have to get a test to confirm it, but I’ve been feeling—”

  The rest of the sentence is lost to the fabric of his black t-shirt as he pulls me into a fierce hug. All I can do is hug him back, the lump in my throat preventing any further conversation. I don’t know how long we stay like that, clinging to each other for dear life on the side of the driveway, but it is an eternity and not long enough in the same heartbeat.

  When we were both ready, he slowly eases back from the hug, and reaches up to cup my chin in his hand, as if I am made of porcelain he is afraid to crack. One reverent swipe of his thumb across my cheek is followed by another. His deep blue eyes are shining when he finally speaks, “I love you so much, Sadie. You’re going to be a wonderful mother, and I can’t wait to raise this baby with you.”

  His words bring my tears on full force, and I struggle to hold them back so I can speak coherently what’s in my heart. “I love you too, Patrick. But I’m so scared. We’re not settled, we’re surrounded by people who want to use us for their own ends, and there’s no clear path in sight for us, for this baby.” My hands drop to my abdomen without thought, and in the back of my mind I’m amazed at how quickly the instinct has kicked in to protect this maybe-there baby of ours.

  His expression turns fierce, eyebrows drawn down. “Sadie, I promise you that I will not let anything happen to you, or our baby. We will figure this out—and if we can’t find a path forward, we’ll make our own. We can do this—together.”

  My heart clenches at his sincerity, and I crumple back into his chest. He wraps his arms around me, and holds me in his comforting embrace. Tomorrow, I’ll be strong. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out how to get a test and find out if my suspicions are right. Tomorrow, I’ll be the determined, take-no-prisoners woman who is being hunted by all and sundry. But today—today I’m just me, in this moment with my husband—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  ✽✽✽

  The next morning’s dawn finds us in a new house, in an over-large bed, in an unfamiliar room with orange walls. The glare of the new sun off of the orange paint is biting into my eyes when Patrick’s gentle shake rouses me.

  “Ugh.” I grumble, and roll to cover my head with the pillow.

  “Sadie, it’s time to wake up. Nell made breakfast, and our guards are supposed to give us a tour in half an hour.”

  “I don’t care about a tour.” His chuckle penetrates my pillow, and I’m annoyed. “Aren’t we supposed to be in hiding? Why are they parading us around?” I fire back the questions, but my ridiculously chipper husband doesn’t mind. Curse him and his eternal morning happiness.

  My pillow disappears, and I sit bolt upright, ready to give Patrick what-for, but I freeze, my stomach a churning mess of ick.

  “Sadie, are you all right?” Patrick asks, voice laced with concern. “You don’t look so good—”

  I don’t hear the rest of his sentence, as I bolt to the turquoise-walled bathroom and swing the door forcefully shut behind me. I barely make it to the toilet before the dry heaves start. And go on for what feels like ten years.

  Eventually my stomach sends the signal to my brain that it’s done heaving, and I sit back on my heels in misery. A timid knock at the door draws my attention. “Sadie, are you okay? Can I get you anything? Maybe some toast, or eggs? Orange juice?”

  Patrick’s helpful suggestions make my stomach squeeze in anticipation. Not the good kind. “No! No food. Do we have any of that lemon soda? Or ginger ale?” I slowly haul myself off the floor, wipe my face with a cool rag, and wash up. Feeling slightly more human, I pull open the door and Patrick nearly falls through the doorway, from his hovering. His handsome, tanned face is creased with worry.

  “Sadie, you need to eat something. And we really need to get our hands on a test.”

  I sigh, and lean my forehead against his shoulder. “Patrick, I love you, but it’s too early for this. I will take a piece of toast, and some lemon soda. The rest of it can wait.” Shuffling back over to the bed, I ignore his expression of protest and sink back to the mattress with a grateful sigh.

  “I think we can postpone the tour. I’ll be right back with the toast.” He kisses me gently on the forehead, and I thank my lucky stars that he’s a reasonable man.

  ✽✽✽

  The toast turns out to be not so bad, and lemon-lime soda, Lim-Eze, was clearly sent straight from heaven on a unicorn made of rainbows. Because after the first sip, I feel human again, and by the last sip, I’m back to my usual, cranky morning self.

  Good to the last drop. “We need to buy this stuff in bulk,” I say earnestly as I pass Patrick the empty can before we leave our room.

  Nell is waiting anxiously in the living room, and she doesn’t waste any time before blurting what she’s thinking. “Are you pregnant? Because Atlas is worried . . .” She thinks better of it, and bites her bottom lip.

  I fiddle anxiously with the end of my braid. Do I tell her my suspicion? We’re all living together, so if this morning is any indication of how things are going to go, it won’t be a secret for long. “Atlas is worried, what?” I counter, keeping things vague.

  “Atlas is worried that there isn’t enough security here if you’re pregnant. It would make you a much more valuable target to pretty much everyone who’s after you.”

  My stomach, happy for such a brief minute, feels like I swallowed a boulder instead of a piece of dry toast. “I don’t know, Nell.” I pause, swallow, and force myself to continue. “But, I think so.” I hate how small my voice sounds with the confession, but I don’t have it in me to say it any other way.

  Nell’s eyes well with instant tears, and I brace myself for a meltdown. Instead, she nearly knocks me over with the force of her unexpected hug. “That’s amazing, Sadie. I’m so happy for you.”

  I can’t help but smile, and squeeze her back equally hard. “Well, we don’t know anything for sure, yet. We need to find a way to confirm without telling everybody and their brother.”

  “We also now have a firm deadline for getting out of here. Nine weeks, give or take.” Atlas’s voice from their bedroom doorway startles Nell and me apart.

  “Why nine weeks?” Nell asks.

  “We need to be long gone before you start to show. The Resistance may be harboring us for now, but you’re carrying the heir to the entire NAA, and that’s a bargaining chip too good to pass up. We can keep the morning sickness under wraps under the guise of staying out of sight, but if anyone starts to suspect, we have to leave.”

  Patrick speaks up next. “I agree, but I’d feel more comfortable if we made that seven. Sadie’s going to need medical care, and that’s hard to arrange without clueing in the doctor.”

  “Guys, we still don’t know that I’m pregnant,” I point out, but nobody bats an eye at my weak assertion.

  “Didn’t you two take pregnancy classes at the NLC? Surely they taught you the signs,” Atlas says dryly, and it is with utter glee that I watch Nell march over to him with a hand on her hip and stare him down.

  “Atlas, so far I have taken you for a smart man. You could prove it to me by shutting up any time now.” Her voice brooks no argument, and I’m surprised to see him look abashed at the reprimand. I’m even more surprised when the mountain of a man doesn’t say another word. Instead, Nell tu
rns and takes over.

  “I’m sure they’ve got a pregnancy testing program. I’ll tell them I’m due for my testing cycle, and go from there. Nobody’s going to care if I’m pregnant, and it won’t put us in any danger.” She nods once, sharply, as if approving of her own plan, then turns back to me. “Are you ready for a quick tour?”

  “After you, boss-lady,” I say with a smile.

  She chuckles, but doesn’t argue as she leads the way out the front door of our shared home.

  A Princess in the Streets

  Nell is still smiling when she flings open the front door, startling the two loitering guards. They stiffen at our sudden appearance, and the dirty-blonde on the left raises his bushy eyebrow before commenting, “Someone under the weather this morning?” His eyes dart back and forth between the grinning Nell, and me where I stand behind her, fidgeting with the dark tendrils at the end of my braid. When neither of us comments after a lengthy pause, he shrugs and looks at his darker-complexioned cohort for direction.

  Mr. Tall and Dark wastes no time getting to brass tacks. “All right. Helena debriefed us this morning on the plan for your stay with us. For the time being, you four will be presented as a new quad from up around Manisas. The arrival of an already formed quad may raise a few eyebrows, but we're banking on the likelihood that curiosity is less dangerous to your cover than people trying to joining your relationship.” He taps his chin thoughtfully, as if that was all perfectly clear, before adding, “Although, they still may, given you have two women.”

  The nausea must be making me slow this morning, because Patrick beats me to the question at hand, “What’s a quad, exactly?”

  Bushy Brows sighs, and flops back against the column supporting our small paved porch. The impact from his meaty frame causes a slight tremor, and I distractedly look at the porch ceiling before focusing back on the more serious of our guards.

  “. . . essentially, the four of you together in a committed relationship.” He ticks off on his fingers as he explains. “Here we’ve got mostly quints, quads, triads, and standard couples—not many, but a few. And here and there, a bachelor who hasn’t committed to anyone yet. That’s how Glitch has been set up in the bachelor block of the compound.” He gives a vague wave over his left shoulder where more rows of small houses stretch uniformly towards the wall. “Most people come in as bachelors or couples, but they don’t stay that way for long.”