The Trinity (Fall of Venus)

by Quinn, Daelynn

  I sit in bewilderment while Drake tells me the story of the fire. How could I not remember something as traumatic as that? Well, I suppose I do remember on some level, but obviously I repressed those memories. That explains everything. No, not everything, but it explains my radical fear of fire. And the boy with the candle. I can easily find significance for the other aspects of my nightmare. Evie being in danger; losing Marcus; my fear of the Trinity.

  “So . . . the fire really happened.”

  “Yeah. We all thought you’d forgotten about it.”

  “I did. Sort of. I guess it was still locked in there, in my subconscious mind.”

  “Hey, maybe you’ll stop having nightmares now that you know.”

  “I hope so.”

  An awkward silence haunts the surrounding air as I try to process what I just learned. Drake shifts uncomfortably, not wanting to leave me alone, but also not knowing what else to say.

  “Do you want some water?” he finally asks. I nod and Drake disappears into the living room.

  I take this rare opportunity of privacy to wipe off the remnants of sweat from my arms and neck with the already damp sheet, and then I use it to fan my slick legs. The air is cool and comfortable so I fold the sheet back over the bed and lay atop it.

  Drake comes back after a minute and hands me a glass, which splashes in my grasp. I’m still so shaken up I don’t think I’ll go back to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Evie and that snake wrapping around her tiny body. It looked like it was going to crush her into a pile of powdered bones

  “Drake?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Aren’t you worried about Evie?”

  “Of course I am. What kind of question is that?”

  “It’s just that you don’t talk about her. Ever.”

  Drake sighs deeply and sits back down on the edge of the bed by my feet. “It’s not something that’s easy for me to talk about, Pollen. I mean, how often do you talk about Lex?”

  “I don’t,” I murmur, lowering my gaze. “But he’s dead and gone. Evie isn’t. She still has a chance. We can still rescue her.”

  “And we will,” Drake declares. “I may not talk about her, but I have been thinking nonstop, trying to establish a strategy to rescue her and destroy the Trinity. It will happen, Pollen, believe me, or I will die trying.”

  “Me, too.” I smile, but Drake turns painfully toward me.

  “No, you won’t. You’ve got your own son to take care of. There are plenty of viable recruits here to help me out. I won’t put you in danger.”

  “You won’t stop me.”

  “I’m not discussing this.” Drake rises and begins padding toward the bedroom door.

  “Look,” I continue. “There’s nothing I can do for my son right now. Marcus left me. I can’t just sit back and wallow in my miseries. I’d be no use to anybody that way. I’m going to join the army as soon as Granby will let me. Then you won’t have a say in what I can and cannot do.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “Hey, dumbass. Who rescued you from Crimson?” I stand up and approach him, trying pathetically to make myself look taller.

  “Yeah, well you almost killed yourself doing it. You’re lucky we made it back when we did. We could have lost you and the baby.”

  “Well, you didn’t. I got your ass out of Crimson and I’ll get Evie too. With or without your blessing.”

  “Damn, I forgot what a hard head you were.”

  “Hard as diamonds, bro.” I playfully punch Drake’s shoulder. Normally he would return the punch, but he sees me as a delicate flower after the birth, so he simply furrows his brows at me.

  Drake shakes his head, a hint of a smile beginning to stretch across his lips.

  “Mom and dad would kill me if I let you do this.”

  “Mom and dad are gone. And I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

  Chapter 14

  “And how do you feel about that?”

  Dr. Nesbith shifts in his seat, crossing his left leg over his right, and leans his left elbow on the arm of his burgundy leather chair. My lack of emotion is working to my advantage now. This is the first session I’ve been to that I haven’t balled over an entire box of tissues. In fact not even a ripple of moisture taints my eyes. No redness in my nose. No quiver in my voice.

  “I’m okay with it. Siera is the only person Marcus really knows right now, after . . . the incident. And if spending time with her brings him comfort, then I’m happy.” The lie splits my teeth so eloquently; Dr. Nesbith is none the wiser. Truth be told, when I saw Marcus with Siera earlier this morning it took every ounce of restraint not to pounce on that bitch like a wolverine.

  “I know when his memories return, Marcus will accept me back into his life. There’s no point upsetting myself further by things I cannot change. I want to be well for my son.”

  “And how is your son doing?”

  “He’s hanging in there. He’s stronger than he looks.”

  “Does it upset you?”

  “I’d be lying if I said no.” But I’m going to lie anyway. “Of course I’m concerned. But I trust that he’s getting the best care possible. And I’m hopeful that he will make it through this.”

  “And what if he doesn’t?”

  I pause to gather my words. I’d be mortified, of course. Probably suicidal, especially if Marcus doesn’t come around. But I can’t tell him that. No. I have to join Granby’s army and the only way I will is for Nesbith to sign off on my successful treatment.

  “I’ve already made my peace with the possibility that he won’t survive. That’s why I haven’t named him yet.”

  “What about little Evie? Have you made peace with her abduction?”

  “Dr. Nesbith, can anyone ever make peace with the abduction of a child by evil, sadistic monsters? No, I have not made peace with that. But will I try to rescue her on my own? I’m not stupid, Dr. Nesbith. Yes, I’m stubborn and hardheaded, but I will not go running off on some ill-brained suicide mission. I respect General Granby’s expertise and fully intend to follow orders, when the time comes.”

  After jotting down some notes, Dr. Nesbith studies me. I continue breathing steadily, and meet his eyes with confidence. He writes something else on his pad.

  “Miss McRae, I must admit I’m impressed. You’ve come a long way in these past few weeks you’ve been seeing me.”

  “Thank you, sir. I feel much better since I’ve been coming here. I think you’ve really helped me work out my emotions.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll give Granby a call as soon as we’re done. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to come weekly anymore, however, please don’t hesitate to pay me a visit any time you feel the need to.”

  “I will, Dr. Nesbith. Thank you.” As I leave his office I hear Dr. Nesbith pick up the telephone on his desk to page Granby. I pump my fist triumphantly as I enter the corridor. I did it. Lied through my teeth, but it was convincing enough. Now I can make some real action happen.

  ***

  As I round the corner in the infirmary my feet abruptly stop and I almost tumble over myself. Marcus stands just outside the glass, gazing down at our baby. The camouflage uniform suggests he’s on his lunch break from training. I duck behind the corner to avoid being seen, but I can’t keep myself from peeking around the edge of the wall. His face is hard to read at this angle. It looks . . . apathetic.

  I wonder what he is thinking. Is he trying to remember? Does his heart flutter like mine should when he looks upon our child? Is he scrutinizing the baby’s features to find a resemblance—Marcus’s eyes or Glenn’s nose?

  He can feel my presence. I know because the electricity pulsing between us causes my limbs to quake. He looks sharply in my direction, but I can’t move fast enough to hide. So I just stand here, frozen as an ice sculpture at a sunset wedding, and stare. For a moment I let some feelings bubble up through the barricade of my guarded emotions. His icy blue eyes dissect me. I open my m
outh to speak but he abruptly shakes his head and turns on his heel. And then he is gone. The feelings drizzle back down through the crack in my steely fortification. I don’t know what I would have said anyway.

  I approach the glass where Marcus was standing. The glass is still warm where his hands rested. I place my own fingertips over the impressions his left and imagine we’re touching again. As I close my eyes, I hear the patter of footsteps behind me. My nerves are on edge and I swing around sharply to find Glenn on my trail, also donned head to toe in camouflage.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says.

  “It’s okay. I’m a little anxious. Marcus was just here.”

  “Oh.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say, shrugging it off. I haven’t seen Glenn since I woke up in the clinic after the birth. It’s strange, really. He seemed so much more concerned about my well being after the birth than the baby’s. Yet he’s been avoiding me ever since. There’s an uncomfortable distance between us that I just can’t comprehend. “Glenn, where have you been? Why haven’t you come to see me?”

  Glenn turns and leans his back against the glass, crossing his arms. “Why don’t you ask your brother?”

  “Oh.” It all makes sense now. Drake loathes Glenn so much; he’d do just about anything to keep him away from me. Of course he wouldn’t let Glenn anywhere near his apartment, where I am staying. He could have even made arrangements at the clinic to keep Glenn away while I was recovering too. I’ve got to speak with Drake about being so damn overprotective.

  “Sorry. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Good,” Glenn says. “I’ve missed you.”

  “You’ll be seeing more of me soon. I’ve been released from Dr. Nesbith’s care. I’m joining the army as soon as I see General Granby.”

  “What?” Glenn snaps. He pushes off the wall with his heel. I cower as he yells in my face. “No, Pollen! You can’t!”

  “Shh!” I glance back at the baby, hoping we haven’t disturbed him. His arms and legs jerk sharply at the noise and then his tiny body relaxes. I turn back to Glenn and attempt to puncture him with the iron in my eyes. “Well, I guess there’s one thing you and Drake have in common.”

  “And he’s right, damn it!” Glenn shouts in a whisper. “You’re not putting yourself at risk Pollen. I won’t allow it.”

  I lurch forward, returning his hostility.

  “And who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?” Glenn backs down, but only slightly. “You don’t own me. Drake doesn’t own me. Nobody does. I’m sick to death of everyone here treating me like a helpless little child!”

  That put him in his place. Glenn’s reticence slices right through the taut rope of tension between us, bringing me a sense of renewed confidence.

  “What if something happens to you? Who’s going to take care of little Arlo?”

  “Little who?” I gape.

  Glenn softens a bit and his lips curl up. “Well, since he doesn’t have a name yet, I’ve been calling him that. After my dad—Arlo Mallek.”

  I giggle through my hardness. “I’m not naming him Arlo.”

  “What about a middle name?”

  “Well . . . okay. But only if he is yours.” Glenn smiles triumphantly. There is not a shred of doubt in his mind who the baby’s father is. And there’s only an ounce of hope in mine. A sacred ounce of hope that I hold dearly in my heart and will never let go. Maybe that’s the real reason I’m delaying the paternity test.

  “Seriously, Polly. If you join the army, you know that you won’t be able to get rid of me. If this war does happen I’ll be no more than two steps behind you at any time.”

  “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to put up with your annoying shadow.”

  Glenn shakes his head again.

  “You really are stubborn. You know that?”

  “It’s about time you accepted it.” I smile.

  We both turn to gaze down at the scrawny infant who resembles a mutant cross between a human and octopus with all of those tubes protruding from every orifice. Even the cloth diaper he’s wearing covers over half of his delicate body. Yet, even through all of that, he is still the most beautiful thing I’ve laid eyes on.

  “Do you think he’ll make it?” I ask impassively, staring at the tube stemming from his parted lips. His skin is pale, but not as gray as it was the last time I visited him.

  “Yeah. He’ll make it. He’s tough, just like his mama.” Glenn rubs my shoulders, which are thick and hard as a knotted rope.

  I snort. “You didn’t always see me as ‘tough’.”

  Glenn smirks. “Well, I was wrong in so many ways. I like the ‘tough’ you, even though you’re a pain in the ass. It’s kind of . . . sexy.”

  I turn away to hide my blush. “Glenn, don’t say things like that. You know—”

  “Yeah, I know. But I’m just being honest. Your strength could conquer the world, Polly. I really do like you this way. Attitude and all.”

  I push away from the window, having seen my fill of my helpless, fragile little glass child.

  “When are you due back at training?”

  Glenn reaches into his pocket and pulls out his watch. It’s old and tattered and the leather band is nearly torn off on one side. He never wears it though. He can’t while he’s training anyway. “About twenty minutes.”

  “I’m going to see Granby now.”

  Chapter 15

  (Marcus)

  Could this little guy be mine? Are all babies this small? It’s been so long since I’ve seen one, but he seems smaller than I remember. Ben, my old superintendent had a kid, but his was grossly large for his age. Ben used to brag to no end about having the biggest baby around. It’s a source of pride for most men, I think, having their wives push out ten-pound babies. But this little guy looks lucky to be even two pounds.

  His color is almost alien with scribbles of blue from the veins showing throw his translucent skin. There’s hardly a strand of hair on his head and those rare moments when his eyes open they are a murky dark blue. But all babies have blue eyes. That’s what I’ve always heard. Still, I can’t let him go. I want him to be mine. It would be the miracle I’ve always hoped for but gave up so long ago.

  Some bizarre magnetism draws my sight away from the precious life in front of me. My limbs stiffen when I see her. I have to blink a few times to be sure I’m not hallucinating. She is as still as stone—her face gaping as if she’d been caught in public with no clothes on. Part of me wants to go to her. Why? After what she did I shouldn’t have any feelings left for her. But somehow I do. I have to go before I fall to pieces. She begins to speak, but can’t stay to hear it. I shake my head and jerk away before she can see the mask fall apart. She can’t know that I feel anything.

  Don’t turn around Marcus. I wait until I turn the corner and descend the hallway to look back. I heave a sigh of relief when I see she isn’t following me. Why has she got this grip on me?

  ***

  I drop my lunch on the counter of the empty shell of an apartment I’m living in. As small as it is, it seems colossal with nobody else living here. I should be used to it. I’ve lived alone with my mother for two years—well before the virus, that is. There’s a loneliness that fills this room. Is it Pollen? Have we become that close that even without my memories life seems empty without her? Damn I wish they would come back. The infinitesimal memories I have had have all been negative. There’s got to be some good memories too.

  I trudge over to the closed door on the right side of the room. Evie’s door. I don’t remember what Evie looks like, but the smell of her bedroom erects feelings of joy deep inside my chest. I try to come in here at least once every day. One quick whiff of the sweet scent seems to dissolve my depressed emotions. Today, the depression is putting up a decent fight.

  I shut the door quickly when I hear a tapping in the kitchen. Siera is leaning against the counter, her fiery hair coasting down her shoulder in sweeping tendrils. Her black blouse hug
s her curves and lacy white skirt shows off her sculpted legs—a bit too short for a woman placed in the preschool for her duties. I forgot how beautiful she was. On the outside anyway.

  “Your door was open,” she says. “I thought we were going to meet for lunch today.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m not really hungry.” I look down at the plate of skirt steak and mashed potatoes and my stomach lurches. Siera dips her finger in the potatoes and sucks it between her lips in a move that is probably meant to be seductive. She couldn’t make it any less obvious that she wants me back. If I were myself again, I might want her too. But ever since this thing happened with my memories, I can’t seem to think straight and Siera is merely a distraction. Still, I don’t want to be vicious to her. She is really the only person I know here. I’m truly trying to be friends with her again despite my odious feelings toward her.

  “So, what’s up?” she asks. Siera follows me to the couch where I plop down, spreading my arms across the arm and the back.

  “I saw Pollen today.”

  She sighs exasperatingly. “You still haven’t let her go.”

  “How can I? I can’t help it. I still have feelings for her. I can’t get her out of my head.”

  “After what she did to you? Marcus, even I never did that to you. It’s time to move on. She’s not worth it.” I don’t know why, but those words sting me, and make me feel defensive.

  “You don’t know her, Siera.”

  “Apparently neither do you!” she snaps. “Marcus, trust me. She doesn’t deserve you. And she doesn’t know you like I do.” Siera shimmies closer to me on the couch and rubs my forearm. Her fingers are cold and hard, as if they were made of stone—just like her heart. “Give me another chance, baby. I won’t break your heart again.”