Intrigue (Stories of Suspense)

by Aaron Patterson

  Dania knew Jasper would never agree to leaving the system, even if she begged him. So she said nothing about Sitara’s offer. But she still remembered the com ID and the code. Not a day had passed that she hadn’t thought of them, and every time it made her heart gallop a bit.

  Molly looked up from her row, and for a moment Dania had a wild thought that Molly knew what she’d been thinking. “You had any water lately? Where’s your canteen?” Molly asked, and walked along the row, searching. She found Dania’s dented water bottle and trotted to the scuffed steel water tank to fill it. Dania pushed a relieved breath through pursed lips and willed her thumping heart to calm.

  When Molly returned, Dania took a grateful pull of Grade A Purified. “Oh, that tastes like heaven.” She smiled at Molly, her lips wet. A contraction clamped her midsection and radiated pain clear into her upper thighs, and her smile dissolved into a grimace. “Not another…”

  Both women looked down as fluid spilled down the insides of Dania’s bare legs, darkening the gravel between her lab-issued poly clogs.

  ***

  “She hasn’t signed for Pre-IQ yet.” The data clerk stood next to the head of Dania’s bed, his tablet poised in front of him and his index finger impatient to tap information into it.

  The nurse, busy attaching contraction modulator pads to Dania’s belly, shook her head. “She’ll have to do it after,” she said, and acknowledged Dania with a brief, closed-lipped smile.

  The clerk sighed and the tablet sagged a few inches against his chest. He moved on to the next bed, where a woman in active labor emitted rhythmic huffs and grunts. Dania traced nervous patterns on the bed sheet with her fingers, and tried to ignore her neighbor. She realized she was tracing the numbers of Sitara’s com ID, and her heart seemed to dip in her chest. She flattened her hand on the sheet.

  “The modulator will control your contractions and keep them progressing,” the nurse said, and checked the readouts on the com station at the foot of Dania’s bed. “The little wire we taped to your spine will take care of about 90% of the pain when you start pushing, and you shouldn’t feel much discomfort before then. Looks like you’ve got seven hours, give or take maybe 30 minutes, until the baby’s born. Take little sips of water when you feel thirsty. I’ll come back soon to check on you.”

  The nurse left Dania alone, or as alone as one could be in a birthing center with nothing but opaque poly curtains separating a single row of beds. When she’d been admitted, she’d noticed most of the beds were empty, their curtain “doors” drawn back. Molly had told her that fewer and fewer couples were receiving approval on their conception applications, and approvals for second children had become extremely rare. Just not enough food to go around these days, let alone enough to feed lots of hungry new mouths. Dania and Jasper were lucky to get approved, Molly’d said.

  The next contraction began to build into a wave that paused at its apex, controlled by the modulator. Dania closed her eyes until it tapered. The pain would come later, she knew, but it wouldn’t be bad. Just enough to tell her what her body was doing, was how her cousin Anna had described it.

  How comforting it would be to have Anna here with her. The threat of tears prickled in Dania’s nose and eyes. How she wished Jasper was on the ground, here. Tears overflowed her lower lids and leaked down her cheeks. Now she’d done it. And she’d promised herself she wouldn’t get teary about giving birth alone. She knew better to than to expect any different. But she knew Jasper would give a week’s wage to be here. When the approval on their permit to conceive had come through, he’d grinned to split his face in half. Jasper was sure they’d get approved, and for a girl; he even had a girl’s name picked out. Sure enough, he’d been right.

  Once Dania’s anti-conception implant was deactivated and Jasper’s implant was programmed for sperm with X chromosomes, they’d set themselves to the task of getting Dania pregnant. They were lucky, and conceived two months after their permit approval. It was a miracle, really, that Dania’s cycle coincided with Jasper’s schedule. Artificial insemination was an option, of course—many couples with conception permits had the obstacle of long and frequent separations between partners—but Jasper wanted it to happen naturally. She was willing to humor him. For a time, anyway. Their permit was good for a year, and she’d promised to allow at least half of it to try natural conception before going to an insemination clinic.

  And now here she was, hours away from the birth of their daughter. She wiped her eyes with the back of her fist and pursed her lips in concentration as the next contraction strengthened.

  ***

  “Looks like it’s almost time to start pushing,” the nurse said, and gave Dania an encouraging smile and nod. “The baby’s in a good position, and all your signs look excellent. How’s the pain?”

  “I can manage it fine,” Dania said. The last several contractions had sharpened to a squeezing pain that made her clamp her teeth together and clutch the edge of the mattress. She felt a growing pressure low in her abdomen and knew the baby was ready to make her way out into the world.

  “Okay, let’s go ahead and bear down on the next one,” the nurse said. “I’ll stay here with you until the baby arrives, and the shift doctor will be along any minute.”

  Dania couldn’t answer, as another contraction consumed her. The com ID Sitara had made her memorize was sing-songing though her mind like a nursery rhyme.

  ***

  Drained as she’d never felt in her life, Dania reached for the oblong bundle swaddled in a cotton blanket. A nurse punched a tablet a few times, entering the time of the baby’s first feeding and diaper change, and then left.

  Dania nestled the baby against her chest, and stared into gray-blue eyes. She wondered how this one small face could seem almost too much to take in. Cheeks that rounded into nearly perfect circles, translucent nostrils delicate as new foliage, barely-articulated eyebrows. Dania searched her daughter’s face for features she could match to her own or Jasper’s. Perhaps those were Jasper’s round eyes and Dania’s own full bottom lip? She brushed her nose against the baby’s cheek and inhaled, and wished she could preserve this moment, stretch out this now and make it last for days.

  The poly curtain shifted, and a data clerk appeared next to the bed. Her stomach did a half-twist and her arms tightened around the baby. She tried to mentally shoo at the clerk, but after several seconds passed and he didn’t move, she dragged her eyes away from her daughter.

  “Ms. Hin,” he said. It wasn’t the same clerk as before, but it might as well have been. Similar build, same unflattering cropped hair. He—and his colleague from before—seemed equal parts boredom and business. The set of his mouth and the angle he held his tablet seemed to say that Dania was causing him considerable inconvenience. “I see we’ve performed all the required labs and vaccinations on the newborn, but you didn’t sign for Pre-IQ yet.”

  He held the tablet in front of her, ready for her thumbprint approval. Dania looked back down at her daughter and watched the baby’s eyelids flutter twice and then close. She repeated Sitara’s code silently.

  “I’m not signing.”

  The clerk made an annoyed sound deep in his throat. “Ma’am, you do know soon it will be required by law? If you don’t do it now, you’ll just have to come back later.”

  Dania didn’t respond, and after a few seconds she heard the plastic swish of the poly curtain that signaled the clerk’s departure. She rested her head back against the stack of pillows. She knew she didn’t have much time to decide. Dread balled in her stomach. But she was so tired. She’d rest just for a moment. Her eyelids fell shut, and in a dream of half-sleep she was slicing giant fruits for Jasper, who sat smiling at one end of a linen-covered banquet table.

  Some minutes later, she awoke to voices nearby.

  “…gotta be one of the lowest they’ve seen,” a male voice said, low, but not low enough.

  “Yeah, they might as well write ‘scrap sorter’ next to that baby’s Pre-IQ,”
another voice said, this one female, and then hummed a sound of disapproval.

  “Hey, somebody’s gotta do it. It’s not a bad job for a dub…”

  The voices faded as the orderlies wheeled their cart away. Dania looked down at her sleeping child.

  A dub. That was what they called babies who scored double digits on the Pre-IQ. Already in practice and soon to be law, dubs got the same basic education as everyone else, but couldn’t apply for grants to go on to the higher levels. Dania wondered if a dub born today could have any chance of a job as a planter.

  The poly curtain swished.

  “How are the mama and baby?” Dr. Zimmerstan, who’d come on shift many hours ago in the middle of Dania’s labor, turned to the foot of the bed to scan the com station’s monitors.

  Dania relaxed, relieved it wasn’t the data clerk again. “Oh, doing just fine. Little sore and tired.”

  The doctor tapped one of the com station’s tablets. “I’m upping your pain block slightly. There’s no need for you to be uncomfortable.” She pulled out the com station’s retractable chair and settled on it, facing Dania. Dr. Zimmerstan’s face was smooth and angular. Early 30s, Dania guessed. Despite the early hour and a long shift, the doctor’s eyes were bright and attentive. She’d changed into a clean white jacket since the birth, and she looked ready to put in another 12 hours.

  “She’s absolutely lovely,” the doctor said, gazing at the baby. “Have you given her a name?”

  “Idelisa,” Dania said, and smiled self-consciously at the sound of the name, which still felt unfamiliar on her tongue. “My partner picked it. It means ‘bounty.’ Do you have a child?”

  “A son, he’s four. He’ll start school in three weeks, I can hardly believe it.” Dr. Zimmerstan paused and shifted almost imperceptibly. “Do you have concerns or questions about the Pre-IQ test, Dania? It takes just a minute or two for the scans, and we can even do it while she’s sleeping. No more blood to draw. Really, she won’t feel a thing.”

  “Did your little boy have a Pre-IQ?” Dania asked.

  “Yes, the day he was born.”

  Dania sighed. She wanted to ask…she wasn’t sure what. She opened her mouth to speak, and the words caught at the back of her tongue and stuck there. She bit her lips as tears bubbled her vision. Dr. Zimmerstan sat, quiet, and waited.

  “I don’t want her life summed up by a number,” Dania said finally, a tremor edging her voice.

  The doctor nodded. “Yes, I know it seems that way. But the times are that we don’t have much choice in these things.” She pressed her lips into a line and looked at a spot on the floor. She seemed to be considering what to say next. “I understand your... worry. It’s probably true that your daughter’s score on this test will either close or open some doors for her.”

  Tears slipped down Dania’s cheeks and hung at her chin before falling to Idelisa’s blanket. The baby was asleep and still as a sculpture, except for the slight rise and fall of her abdomen.

  “But Dania,” the doctor continued, her voice firm but kind, “no matter what, this test doesn’t determine your daughter’s happiness. She’ll still be free to make many decisions and experience many things.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Dania said. But she didn’t believe it. She wasn’t stupid, she knew there was a fair chance her daughter was a dub. What kind of options would dubs have in 15 years?

  Dr. Zimmerstan smiled and rose. She patted Dania’s arm as she passed. “I’ll send the clerk over so you can sign for the test.”

  Too soon, Dania was pressing her thumb to the tablet, and a nurse was lifting Idelisa from her arms. “I’ll be back with her in 10 minutes, Ms. Hin.”

  Another nurse stepped near the bed and waved a small black remote over Dania’s left hip, and two short beeps indicated her anti-conception implant had been reactivated. The nurse left and the poly curtain fell closed, and Dania was alone.

  Connect with K.C. Neal online:

  Facebook: facebook.com/AuthorKCNeal

  Blog: www.kcneal.blogspot.com

  Twitter: @DigitalPalaver

  Email: kcneal.author@gmail.com

  Look for The Pyxis, the first novel in a new young adult series, Summer 2011.

  Ray Ellis

  Ray began his law enforcement career with the Orange County Sheriff's Department in Orange County, California. After working for a number of years in the maximum security facility, he transferred to patrol working along Orange County's coast as well as the inner canyons and barrios. After 8 years he moved to Idaho and continued his law enforcement career, serving as an instructor for the Idaho POST Council.

  Ray was first ordained into the ministry while living in Orange County and now serves as the Associate Pastor in his home church in Nampa, Idaho. A former United States Marine, he is a public speaker, communicating to groups of all sizes on the topics of community and personal safety. Since 1999 Ray has been a primary instructor for the Idaho POST Academy - Police Training Institution for Idaho- instructing on subjects of arrest control, cultural diversity and for the last five years exclusively on the topic of instructor development, where he teaches other officers to be POST certified instructors. He is currently serving as the lead sex crimes investigator for the agency where he works. He has been married to the same woman for 27 years and has three children; two sons and a daughter. Ray lives with his family in Idaho.

  “I”

  “And be not afraid of them that kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.”

  Jesus

  Matt 10:28 ASV

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I WAS FIVE YEARS old. I don’t even remember where the thought had come from, but there I was sneaking around back to see if I could catch Wanda in the outhouse before she pulled up her panties.”

  ***

  The darkness pressed in on me, heavy and liquid. Although I knew I was alone I could feel Him staring at me, watching me, His gaze penetrating the darkness as easily as if it had been noon. His eyes seeing me, knowing me; understanding my every thought even as it formed in my mind.

  The sound of dripping water echoed off of what sounded like a cavernous vault: Drip, drip, drip; teasing my thirst. My throat felt raw and parched. The stone slab I’d awaken on felt cold beneath me, but the surrounding air was hot, laced with a heavy sticky humidity, but no water pooled, no condensation dripped from the stone walls.

  Standing, I hit my head on the too low ceiling. I could not rise to my full height, but had to remain crouched over from the waist. The floor was covered with sharp stones that cut into my bare feet as I walked hunched over like Quasimodo, occasionally raking my head or shoulders on shards of protruding stone.

  Once again, the tormenting sound of water dripped somewhere unseen in the darkness, mocking me. Then the question I dreaded formed in my mind...was I to continue like this forever?

  ***

  I was six when my grand-mother told me the story of the Ten Commandments. I remember sitting on her knee in the darkened room watching the glow from the wood burning stove dance across the walls and high ceiling.

  Grand-Ma threw the remains of her water against the unpainted soot covered wall and pointed to the moist darkness, making its way towards the floor. “You see dhat son? Dhat’s how death came down out of heaven on the night of the first Passover. Like a cloud from God, death reached its fingers down into Egypt and killed all the first born chil’lun.” She spat a caramel colored stream of tobacco juice into the open fire before continuing. “All the first born whose mama’s and daddies didn’t paint the door jam with the blood.”

  I swallowed, as only a six year old could while hearing stories of judgment, and trying his best to act innocent all at the same time. “You think God’s gonna be pouring out death on us again, Gran-Ma?” I asked, feelings of desperation and fear growing in my anxious juvenile mind.

  She hugged me to herself, which smelled of Epson salt and snuff, before pu
tting me down. “Nahh, boy, that’s why God done sent down Jesus to die for us so’s we won’t have to die and go to hell.”

  At the mention of hell I stopped breathing. Everybody knew about hell.

  ***

  I found that my cell, for that’s what it was, was only about ten feet by six feet across. Yet after rising from the stone slab I could no longer find it and was forced to sit on the ragged floor. The shards and stones now cut into my butt as I tried to rest, too tired to continue standing in the half crouched position.

  The temperature had begun to change as well, alternating in an instant from being suffocatingly hot to bone jarring cold. Still the sound of dripping water continued.

  From somewhere in the darkness I began to hear voices. Voices familiar, but not. Then as if in a vision I saw myself, I was seven years old. “Come on,” I said to David, a neighborhood friend, “put it under your shirt while I keep a lookout.”

  A few minutes later Dave and I sat under the shade of a huge oak, enjoying the stolen fruits of our labor. He passed me a share of the honey-bun he’d stolen, while I passed him a bag of the plain potato chips I’d walked away with.

  Leaning back on our elbows we watched as fluffy white clouds floated by, and imagined strange and wonderful shapes bounding across the azure sky. “What do you think?” I asked into the comfortable silence.

  “I don’t know.” Dave began stuttering. “Maybe we shouldn’t aught to of stole this stuff.”

  “Not that, stupid,” I said. “Besides its too late now, we already ate most of it. I was talking about the clouds…. What shapes do you see?”