by K. A. Gandy
“Glitch, if all these women aren’t married, is there any record of who the babies’ fathers are, or how long they've been where they are?” I ask.
“I haven't found that information yet because it’s probably stored in a separate database. You know, they rarely store top-secret stuff all together like it’s wrapped in a bow. But I can do some more digging.” He takes the tablet back out of my cold fingers, and immediately starts tapping out notes, like we aren’t even there.
“Take a load off, man. Want some coffee?” Patrick points him towards the couch.
“Yeah, coffee’s great,” he mumbles, already lost in his hacking efforts.
I frown and follow Patrick into the kitchen, where he’s already starting a fresh pot of coffee. “Patrick, I have a really bad feeling about this. There’s no good reason to have all these women hidden away.”
He presses brew on the pot and turns to face me. “I agree, Sadie, but we’re getting closer to figuring this out. All we can do is keep searching and try to figure out where they are.”
“Patrick, there are over twenty-five tri-states. Even if most groups are on the smaller side, that’s a lot of women. Who’s hiding them? Are they being treated well? Are they going to get to go home once their pregnancies progress past the first trimester, like a normal pregnancy in the marriage program?” My mind is running a thousand miles a minute.
“I wish I knew,” he says and pulls me against his chest. I breathe in his comforting scent, and send up a silent prayer for answers, soon. This is all turning out to be much more than picking the right honeymoon destination.
✽✽✽
The next day, after Glitch snuck back out of the resort grounds to do more research in the closest town, we meet Nell and Atlas by the final trail head for the marked hiking trails at our resort. After this, we’re going to start branching out further into the woods towards the coordinate given to us by Atlas’s employee with the drone. So far, no trail has had any unmarked side paths, or anything indicating there’s traffic towards that portion of the woods.
Once we’re far enough into the trail that no one could overhear, we catch them up on what Glitch shared last night, before he spent three hours working on our couch and passed out, still clutching his tablet.
“I’m sorry, but if there’s another branch of the program that is this big, how has word not gotten out? Wouldn’t their families tell, or wouldn’t it be obvious when they go home with a couple of kids but without a husband? Although, I guess they could set them up as divorcées,” Nell muses.
Atlas is quiet, the only sign he’s unhappy with this information is the ticking muscle in his jaw, visible even under his five o’clock shadow.
We all walk in silence for a while, pondering the potential ramifications of this information. Eventually, Atlas stops walking.
“Right there.” He points, but all I see is more trees and underbrush.
“What is it?” Nell asks, wrapping her hands around his bicep and trying to get even with where he’s pointing.
“It’s another trail. It doesn’t connect to this one, but there’s a definite break in the underbrush.”
“That’s not a game path, either,” Patrick agrees. “It looks like it’s a gap barely wide enough for an ATV. Maybe for guard shifts?”
“Let’s go check it out.” Atlas shrugs off his pack and hands it to Nell, and Patrick hands his to me. They wade into the scrub, and I don’t envy them the scratched-up shins they’re going to have after this. Nell and I look at each other nervously, despite the fact that the area is deserted apart from the four of us.
After they make it through the scrub, they find what must be the break in the woods. It doesn’t look too different to me, but I’m no expert. They continue walking out of sight, and we can no longer hear the sounds of their footfalls.
“We should set up our lunch, so at least we’re doing something other than just standing here,” Nell suggests.
“We should have gone with them,” I mutter, but open the pack in my hands and pull out the picnic blanket. I blush at the sight of it, but quickly shake it off.
“So, did you two have fun hiking by yourselves last week?” she asks in a bland tone, and I try not to choke on air. Thankfully she doesn’t notice. “Because frankly, I enjoyed a few days of hanging out at the cabin and doing nothing. Well, mostly nothing,” she amends and gives me a wink.
“I don’t want the details!” I rush to interrupt, which makes her laugh.
“You are such a prude. But don’t worry, I wasn’t going to give you the nitty gritty.” She waggles her eyebrows at me, and hands me a bottle of water before sitting cross-legged on the blanket.
“Thanks.” I hand her a sandwich and a fruit cup.
We sit and munch, scanning the woods for our men. As the time goes on, my unease grows at the separation. What if something happens to them, or they get caught? We’d be stuck sitting here biding our time all afternoon, no idea when to expect them back. Next time, we’re all going. Waiting around like this is for the birds.
Finally, when the sun is directly overhead, we hear the sound of footsteps approaching from the direction they’d gone. Nell and I stay seated, but keep our eyes trained on that spot in the woods where they’d vanished. I let out a huge sigh when I see Patrick round a corner in the path, and a moment later Atlas appears behind him. Nell and I exchange relieved glances.
“Well, neither of them look like they got shot, so that’s a good sign,” Nell says, her light tone not in line with the seriousness of our worries.
It takes a few minutes, but the men tromp back through the thick brush and flop down on the picnic blanket with us.
“Well, what did you find?” I ask, unable to wait a second longer.
Patrick shakes his head. “Just a guard shack, I’m afraid.”
“Ugh, you guys were gone for at least two hours, and the only thing over there is a guard shack?” Nell complains, and my disappointment echoes hers.
“So it’s another dead end?” I ask. Where the heck are these women?
“I wouldn’t call it a dead end. We were able to observe some of the guard patterns for a short span, and there is definitely activity on the other side of the guard shack,” Atlas says.
“Yeah, we saw them taking a trail on the other side, which doesn’t lead to anything on the map. We’re getting close, I can feel it. They have to be over there.” Patrick adds as he takes the sandwich I offer him.
“So, what now? Do we hike past the guard area and try to find the trail?” The idea is daunting, but I don’t see what other option we have.
“Can I request an option where we don’t spend all day freezing our butts off in the woods? It’s getting a lot colder, and I’m sick of all this hiking. Blah blah, nature—it all looks the same at this point,” Nell cuts in.
“Actually, I had an idea,” Patrick says with a smile. “We’re going to ask for some ATVs. The guards had a few, and we think we could make it through the brush with one. It’s going to be a lot faster and we’ll cover more ground.”
“I’m not complaining, because my blisters have blisters at this point. But how exactly does the guards having ATVs help us get them?” Nell points at the four of us.
“We’re just going to suggest a new activity to the program director,” Atlas says nonchalantly and takes a huge bite of his sandwich.
Monarch
Atlas and Patrick pulled some strings with the program director, which I suspect might have involved Atlas volunteering to donate the ATVs for the new activity. He approved it, no questions asked, but the ATVs are taking a few days to get shipped here. In the meantime, we’re trying to recoup from our nearly two solid weeks of hiking. The rest is nice, but worry for Josephine and all the other women on that list keeps niggling at the back of my mind, and I find myself more and more restless as the days pass.
The increasing cold combined with that restlessness is what’s driving us to loiter in the guest house today, waiting for Nell,
Atlas, Emmett, and Carolina to play a card tournament with us. The staff have put out a nice spread of finger foods, which I'm enjoying heartily, much to Patrick’s amusement.
“I don’t know how you eat that stuff. It doesn’t have any resemblance to real meat,” he says, and wrinkles his nose at my selection of sausages stuffed into bacon, bread, and shaped into balls.
“You don’t have to understand it. You clearly have no appreciation for life’s delicacies,” I say with a smug smirk.
He chuckles and gives me a kiss on the head, and slides his hand into the back of my jeans pocket. “You’re kind of weird, but you’re my kind of weird,” he says.
Now it’s my turn to scrunch up my nose at him. “I’m not sure if I should be offended or happy about that,” I say before popping another sausage-wrapped-in-bacon into my mouth happily.
“What’s up, newlyweds!” Emmett sounds jazzed as he and Carolina make their way in. High fives are exchanged all around before they grab some snacks of their own.
Atlas and Nell arrive a moment later, and we all settle down to play some cards. Emmett is the most serious I’ve seen him, as he explains the rules to us. Most of it goes over my head, having never been much of a card player. But I’ve got snacks and friends, so I don’t mind losing for the cause.
After three rounds of being the first to lose, I make my way back to the buffet for seconds. Seeing that everyone else has started a fourth round, I ask one of the ever-present staff, Jerome, if he would set up a movie for us in the conference room. I give Patrick a quick wave, which he sort of acknowledges through his intense focus on his hand, and follow Jerome across the hall to see what our options are. I choose an action and adventure flick, and Jerome shows me how to turn on the movie with a built-in panel in the wall—when everyone is tired of their cards. While I’m waiting, I switch on a Christmas movie. I know it’s early, but who’s going to stop me?
I’m really invested in the plucky heroine’s quest for Christmas love ten minutes later when the screen cuts out.
“Shoot, what happened to my movie?” I ask no one in particular, right as Candy Thomas from NAA One takes over the screen. “Aw, come on! I need to know what happens to Raquel!” I grouch, but quickly fall silent at the familiar blonde anchor’s announcement.
“We’re coming to you live this evening, pausing your regularly scheduled programming with breaking news across the entire North American Alliance.” Candy pauses for effect and looks gravely at the camera before speaking again. I cross the room to turn up the volume on the wall panel.
“Today, at 8:40 p.m., the justices across the North American Alliance have voted to uphold the bill enacting a monarchy. Prime Minister Royce has simultaneously accepted the nomination to become the first ever king in the history of the NAA. We’re expecting a live update from newly appointed King Royce any minute now.”
My jaw drops, and my head spins with this news. I have to go get Patrick. I race across the hall, back to where the others are still engrossed in their cards, blissfully unaware of what’s unfolding outside these cloistered walls.
“Patrick, can you come here, please? It’s urgent.” Something in my tone must convey my inner turmoil, because he pushes back his chair in a heartbeat.
“What’s wrong, are you okay? Are you sick?” He puts his hands on my shoulders.
“No, I’m fine. Come with me.” I grab his hand and haul him to the conference room, where the news anchor has disappeared, and a press conference is starting. The podium is empty, but people are filling up the stage in anticipation of the speech that’s about to begin.
“Oh, God. Is it the vote? Do they have the results already?” He grips the back of one of the chairs, knuckles white.
“Yes, they did,” I say softly. I know I need to tell him, but how do you break that kind of life-altering news? I hadn’t thought that far ahead when I ran to get him. “Patrick, the vote. They—”
He tears his gaze away from the screen, and as soon as he takes in my expression, he knows. The color drains from his face. “It’s done. They passed it.” His voice drops low, anguished.
Nell’s head pops around the door frame. “I don’t want to intrude; just wanted to make sure everything is okay? We’re all worried.”
“We’re fine, thanks for checking on us, Nell.” I give her my most reassuring smile.
“Uh-huh. Are you pregnant? Puking? Lose a limb?” she rattles off.
“No to all. Can you give us a few minutes, please? We’re fine.” I make a shooing gesture.
She shakes her head but backs out of the door and shuts it behind her.
“I’m sorry, Patrick. I know this is not how you wanted things to go.” I scoot myself under his arm, and wrap him up in a hug. We stay like that, him hugging me back tightly, until a stately woman with cinnamon hair streaked with silver walks out, her smile beaming warmly from ear to ear, followed closely by the prime minister, his father.
“That’s my mom,” he says, voice hardly above a whisper as his father takes the podium.
“Good evening, citizens of the NAA. I stand before you this evening both humbled and honored, as your representatives, as a nation, have once again put such faith in my capabilities as a leader, and my family’s commitment to keeping this country strong, and growing—now and for future generations.” He pauses, and looks into the camera as if he’s looking directly into my eyes. He portrays sincerity and humility in equal measure, and it’s no surprise to anyone why he was chosen. “I know this will be a time of great transition, but I urge you all to continue in hope for what’s to come. We will come together as a nation, as a people, and continue to fight the detrimental effects of the Sterilization Vector on our great lands. Together, we will continue to rebuild, and our children’s children will inherit our vision. Thank you all. Good night.” He raises a hand in a gesture, and the press begins to vie for his attention, but he merely waves, and my prim, suited mother-in-law gives a soft wave to the crowd before taking his arm and together they exit the stage.
The news anchor pops back into the frame, but I go and turn the panel off. We’ve seen enough.
Returning to Patrick, I take in his stiff posture. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, and keeps staring with a blank expression at the darkened screen. I can tell this is going to take a while to sink in, so I hug him again and settle in to wait.
✽✽✽
The next morning, we’re startled awake by another unexpected knock at our cottage door. I rub my bleary eyes, and see that it’s only seven a.m. “Who in the world is knocking at this hour? Don’t they know people need sleep?” I say, and pull my pillow over my head to block out the intrusion.
Patrick chuckles, and tickles my knee before he goes to answer the door. Morning people, ugh.
I hear voices muffled by my pillow, before the bed dips and Patrick climbs back in and pulls me into his side. Grudgingly, I lower my pillow, and see that he’s holding an envelope.
“Who’s it from?”
He slides out a letter and quickly scans it. His hand lowers, and a neutral expression crosses his face. “It’s from my mom.” He slips it into my hand.
Patrick,
I trust you’ve heard the news regarding the recent change to our family’s status. As such, we ask that you please keep a low profile until an appropriate security detail can be put in place for you. We will have it arranged as promptly as possible.
Yours,
Deb
“Is this the first time you’ve heard from her since we got matched?” I ask, stunned by the lack of affection in the missive.
He nods.
“That’s it? It’s so cold. She doesn’t even sign it Mom, just Deb?” I scan the letter again, searching for any sign of warmth. Heck, not even a congrats on the marriage? “She didn’t say congratulations, or ask how you were.” My annoyance at my new mother-in-law builds. She has to know Patrick is unhappy about the news, and yet there’s nothing in there to try to comfort him, or even acknowledg
e his feelings. Rude.
“That’s her. Brisk and to the point.” He takes the letter back and tosses it onto his bedside table. “I think I need a run this morning. Will you be okay here on your own if I go out and clear my head?” He gives me a lackluster smile, nothing like his usual boundless cheer, and I hate to see how hard he’s hit by this whole situation.
“Of course. I’ll have breakfast ready when you get back.” I pucker my lips, and he leans over and kisses me, but it’s brief, with none of the usual heat I’ve come to expect between us these days.
Patrick’s only been gone on his run five minutes when an excited pounding comes at the door. Assuming it’s Glitch with some update for us, I hurry over only to find a windswept Nell.
“Sadie! We heard the news. So, you and Patrick are officially royal now. How does it feel? Do you get a tiara? Are you carrying a royal heir yet?” She gestures with wild enthusiasm at my unchanged midsection.
“Would you hush and get in here?” I grab her by the arm and haul her into the house. She doesn’t protest, just walks right in, and sits on a bar stool. I look around, but thankfully our cottages are all well-spaced, and there’s no one in sight to have overheard her.
“Have you got any cookies? Yours are way better than the ones in the guest house.”
I shake my head at her presumption but pull a few cookies I’d baked yesterday out and put them on a plate for her.
She takes a huge bite before continuing. “So, I take it that you two weren’t happy about the royal news last night?” A crumb falls out of her mouth and lands on the counter.
“No, not so much. Neither of us wants to be royal, or political. We just want . . . normalcy.” I sigh. “But, I think that ship has sailed.” I watch in morbid fascination as she grabs the errant piece of cookie with her thumb and pops it back into her mouth.
“Yeah, that’s not really an option anymore. But, hey, why be normal when you can be a princess? You are a princess now, right?”
I don’t answer, instead I cross to the fridge and pull out a bottle of milk and pour it into a short glass for her. Handing her the glass, I drum my fingers on the countertop restlessly. “It’s all too fresh, Nell. I don’t know anything yet, and I am worried about Patrick. He didn’t take the news well at all—you should have seen him last night. It was the first time I’ve ever seen him look rattled.”
