Folsom

by Tarryn Fisher

  “Thank you, thank you,” she says so that only I can hear.

  I lift an arm and wrap it around her back, breathing in the scent of her hair. When I open my eyes, I immediately see Gwen. She’s standing stoically in the crowd watching me. Her eyes are the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. Despite my own.

  Her name is Audrin and she’s twenty-four years old. We are to be taken to a room somewhere in the building. I’m guessing it’s used just for this purpose. Before we go upstairs, Robin finds me in the crowd and discreetly palms me a little blue pill.

  “I heard you had an exciting afternoon getting drunk,” she says. Her face is stern, but Robin could never be truly mad at me.

  I shrug. “You took the day off. I didn’t have a babysitter.”

  She frowns at me. “It won’t happen again. For either of us,” she says sternly. “You know how they get. You could have been mobbed.”

  “Almost was,” I toss over my shoulder. “See you later.”

  I pop the pill in my mouth and swallow it dry. Once we are alone in the room, Audrin looks ready to faint.

  “Have something to drink,” I tell her, motioning over to the bar. “Take a bath to relax if you like, we have some time.” The bathtub was the first thing she noticed when we walked into the room, exclaiming about the size.

  “Are you sure?” she asks shyly. “You don’t mind?”

  I shake my head. I don’t blame her. I’ve seen the way some of the lower ends of the Regions are forced to live. Entire families crammed into tiny, one-bedroom apartments, sharing a bathroom with everyone else on the floor.

  “I’ll make myself a drink. Go ahead.”

  While Audrin runs the water, I fill my glass with bourbon and sit on the bed. I’ve had a buzz from the time I woke up until now. Robin would be pissed if she knew how much I’ve been drinking. My arms feel stiff and there’s a dull ache in my head. I find some aspirin in a gift basket on the table and pop a few into my mouth. I’m already getting hard, I can feel it. The longer you’re on the pills, the less time they take to work. I wonder if Gwen left after I came upstairs. Would she ride home with her mother and sister, or would she find her own way? If I’ve learned anything about Sophia thus far, it would be likely that she’d close out the party downstairs, being the last to leave.

  When Audrin emerges from the bathroom a while later, she’s wearing a silky white robe and the expression of someone who looks like they want to throw up.

  “You don’t have to be nervous,” I tell her. How many times have I said that to a woman? I motion for her to sit next to me on the bed and she does, perching herself on the edge while I’m stretched out next to her. I kiss her softly at first, and she kisses me back, moaning softly into my mouth.

  “Will it hurt?” she asks, looking at me with innocent eyes.

  “Yes,” I say. “But not much.”

  She nods, her expression determined. I unbuckle my belt and lower my pants while still spread out on the bed. My dick springs free and I pull her on top of me.

  “Lower yourself onto it,” I tell her.

  She straddles me, doing as she’s told, slipping the robe off her shoulders. She makes a tiny noise as I break through her and settle inside her warmth. Moving her hips, I lean back and close my eyes as she rocks on top of me. Her hands press into my chest and she starts moving on her own. It doesn’t take me long. I pull her down hard on my dick and explode inside of her.

  Afterward, I tell her to lie on her back while I get up to take a piss. It’s when I’m in front of the toilet, dick in hand, that the pain shoots through my chest. I groan and lean my forearm against the wall, rubbing the spot. It’s unbearable. I bend lower, squeezing my eyes closed. And then everything goes black.

  TEN

  GWEN

  When Folsom invited me to come, it never crossed my mind that he’d be gone most of the time having sex with one of the lottery winners. I don’t know what I thought—maybe that he’d find me after the formalities were out of the way and we could resume the push and pull that I’ve quickly become addicted to, or maybe I was holding out hope that he’d finish the blaze of his hands across my body that he’d started in the car. Both are so far-fetched it isn’t even funny. I’ve been listening to too many stories at work, getting my head filled with romantic notions that died along with the last batch of men. I look around at the crazed women of all ages, all eagerly awaiting another glimpse of Folsom. He’ll probably have sex with someone else before the night is over and it won’t be me. I had my chance.

  I find my mother in the crowd, standing next to Governor Petite. I make my way to her, barely avoiding getting doused with wine by one of Sophia’s friends. I narrow my eyes at the girls surrounding Sophia. They’re the last people I want to see right now.

  I put my hand on my mom’s elbow.

  “Are you okay, love?” she asks, leaning into my ear.

  “I’m not feeling so well. Do you think I could take your car?”

  She feels my face, checking to see if I’m fevered, but her eyes center on mine. I look away when I see the flash of pity there.

  “Oh sweetheart,” she says, arms going around me.

  “Mother, please, don’t.” I pull away. I’ll never hold it together if she hugs me right now.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  She reaches into her clutch and gives me the chip for the car. She leads the way and when we get to the parking lot, I see Folsom’s driver standing by the car near the entrance. She tips her head at me as I hurry past.

  “Will you be okay to drive?” My mother fusses over my dress as the chip hovers by our car. The door opens and I get in quickly.

  “Of course I will,” I tell her. “Don’t worry.”

  As soon as she backs up, I shut the door and get the hell out of there. Once home, I can’t get out of my dress fast enough. I’ll keep him on my skin a little longer. Tomorrow I’ll have to wash all of him away. I crawl into my bed and lay on the pillow he used. That’s when the tears come.

  It’s still dark when I get up early the next morning, taking something for my headache and showering quickly. By some sort of miracle, I make it out of the house without seeing anyone, not even Phoebe, who usually seems to sense when I’m awake before I make a peep. I make the twenty-minute drive to work on autopilot, my thoughts still full of the day before. I wonder how long the party went. I heard my mom come in but never heard Sophia. I try to avoid thinking about Folsom, but he’s all my mind sees.

  Genome Y is located near the lighthouse at Fort Story, once a beautiful naval base that overlooks the Chesapeake Bay. A few of the original buildings are left and have been lovingly tended to and restored. Genome Y is the only new building and of the same design favored for the past thirty years, only bigger; six small glass domes connect to one larger dome that hangs over the water.

  The sun is just coming up as I make the final approach to the gate and see a long line of cars. Reporters are camped out near the gate. Officers are standing guard and one of them directs me through the women. Another guard lets me in the gate. One reporter tries to get through the gate and the officers swarm around her.

  My heart is pumping with adrenaline as I hurriedly park. I groan. I should’ve had coffee before I got here. I can’t imagine what has caused all this commotion. All was quiet yesterday and we’re not that close to a breakthrough that it would happen overnight, not without me anyway.

  Two of the guards I normally only see outside the gate are stationed by the door.

  Our central receptionists, Jade and Himari, are both facing their screens, buzzing excitedly. Himari’s eyes widen and she waves when she sees me.

  “Can you believe this?” she mouths.

  I hold my hand out and shake my head.

  “We’ll be holding a press conference when we hear more from the medical team,” she says, and the Silverbook moves to the dock. “It took you long enough to get here!” She stands up and walks toward me, her long, black hair swishing in time with
her steps. “Corinne has been checking every ten minutes for the last hour and a half to see if you’re here yet.”

  “What is going on?”

  She stops and puts her hand on my arm, halting my steps. “You don’t know?” She shakes her head and nudges me to keep moving. “Corinne will fill you in. I have to get everything ready for the press conference, like, yesterday. How was he, though? That’s what I’m dying to know. Did he ride you like a horse and then seem worn out?” She grasps my arm. “I hope it worked.”

  I scowl at her. “What are you talking about?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine, keep it to yourself. I will get it out of you.” She motions toward Corinne’s office and backs away, pointing at me. “Lunch. You can’t avoid this. I’m living vicariously through you.”

  My mouth hangs open. I want to go back and restart this day—I’m so confused—when Corinne walks out of her office.

  “Thank God you’re here. The team is here and we’ll need you to do the MRI soon.” She ushers me past the first two domes and I pause. I typically only work in domes one and two.

  “I came in early and didn’t expect to see so many people here.” I barely get the words out when I realize she isn’t listening.

  We walk past domes three and four, and around dome five I see women in blue lab coats that I’ve never seen.

  “Who are they?” I whisper.

  I glance through the open door past them and see a boy. He looks young, a teenager, maybe fifteen or sixteen at most. He’s in bed hooked up to our largest diagnostics machine. He glances up at me and I falter in mid-step. He’s beautiful and afraid. I move toward his door, eager to put him at ease, and Corinne stops me.

  “Not him,” she says.

  She motions down the hall toward the last dome of the building. I’ve never been in dome six, but I’ve heard the stories. It’s where the most deaths have occurred, where the hardest procedures are conducted. Maybe I haven’t been aware of it since I didn’t know anyone was in dome five either, but to my knowledge, dome six hasn’t been occupied since I came to work at the main branch five years ago.

  Dread begins to fully set in, my concern for the boy pushed aside. There’s only one man in the Red Region and it can’t be good if he’s here. I rush toward the next dome and ignore protocol, moving past the doctors attending him.

  Folsom lies in the bed, all the color and life I saw in him yesterday now a dulled grey. His skin is damp, his hair wet with perspiration, and every orifice is filled with a tube. Electrodes line his chest. I move to his side, shaky but determined.

  “What happened to him?” My voice breaks on the last word, but I look around, demanding an answer.

  The doctor closest to me gives me a fleeting glance before turning back to him, tearing off the printout of his heart activity. She takes a long look and then speaks.

  “Mr. Donahue suffered a heart attack sometime early this morning. We’re not certain of the exact time because Lottery 607 failed to alert anyone until at least two hours after it happened, maybe longer.” She purses her lips and flips through the printout. “I suppose she was right to be afraid—she’ll serve time for withholding.”

  I cover my mouth with my hands and pace the length of the corridor, occasionally glancing into his room. I’m overreacting. I know I’m overreacting. I barely know this man, so why do I feel so sick? The End Men represent hope to all of the Regions, I reassure myself. Of course I’m upset. It makes complete sense. And he isn’t just any End Man—he’s the original, the turning point in which we placed our hope. There are news crews outside and the entire nation is on alert. I calm my breathing and press a hand to the glass that separates me from Folsom. It is our civic duty to care about him: Folsom Donahue is our future. Yes, that is all. My Silverbook hovers and I glance at it distractedly. I turned it on vibrate after I missed Corinne’s messages, but when I see who’s messaging me, I immediately switch it back to idle. Sophia is frantic, wanting me to sneak her into the lab so she can see Folsom. I roll my eyes. She’s acting like…she’s acting like…me. Corinne comes marching down the corridor at that moment and I turn to face her.

  “Most of the staff are busy here with him,” she says, jerking her head toward Folsom’s bed. “I need you somewhere else.” We start walking in stride and I resist the urge to look back at him one last time.

  “Right,” I say. “Where do you need me?”

  She stops abruptly and turns to face me, looking around quickly to make sure no one can hear her.

  “This is highly confidential. We have not made the information public…”

  I blink at her, unsure of where she’s going with this.

  “One of Folsom’s sons is here, the oldest boy…”

  I think of the boy I saw this morning and stare at her in shock. The hair, the jaw, the naturally wounded-looking eyes…I’d seen them before on Folsom’s face. In all the commotion I’d forgotten about him.

  “One of the five?” I ask, breathless.

  She nods. “He was the first male birth the Regions had in twenty years. His mother won’t let us even see him until he comes of age.” She pauses. “And even then she’s tried to hide him. We had to go in and remove him from the home.”

  “You kidnapped him?” I ask in disbelief. “He’s just a kid.”

  Corinne shoots me an annoyed look, and when she speaks again, her voice is cold. “Gwen, in case you haven’t noticed, men have been nearly extinct for the last fifty years. If we don’t do something, we’ll follow right behind them. The End Men…this boy…they’re our last hope. We’ve brought him here to learn more about why this has happened. He’s less than three years away from joining the End Men himself. We need this time with him. Run the tests.” She shoves a stack of papers into my hands and frowns at me. “Can I count on you to do this?”

  I nod, though my insides are churning and I want to be sick. She starts to walk away.

  “Corinne,” I call. “What’s his name?”

  “Laticus,” she calls over her shoulder. “Laticus Donahue.”

  ELEVEN

  FOLSOM

  I wake up alone and in a white room. I’m tied down. No, I’m attached. Machines beep incessantly behind my shoulders, cords and tubes needling into my skin. I can feel the pump, pump, pump of the liquids, the cold chill as they creep through my veins. I try to remember how I got here, but whatever they’re feeding me through these tubes has made my brain languid. How did you get here, I ask myself, but my thoughts have no cohesion. Then I see Gwen’s face; she materializes from a door. At first I think I’m dreaming because she looks like a floating head, but then I realize she’s wearing all white and blending in with the walls.

  “What happened?” I ask. Fuck, I still sound drunk. Her lips tighten into a stiff line.

  “The doctor will be here in a minute to talk to you.” She looks over her shoulder then leans over me and quietly says, “You had a heart attack, Folsom.”

  I try to sit up, but she places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me back down. “Don’t you dare,” she warns. “Idiot man.”

  I smile at that one. So rarely do women insult me. What a treat. And then I remember the lottery and the girl. We’d gone up to the room. Had I fucked her? Yes, I recall something about that. I’d gone to take a leak and then…nothing.

  “The girl,” I ask. “Is she okay?”

  “What girl?” Gwen snaps. Suddenly her facial expression changes. “Oh,” she says. “She’s in a bit of trouble. She didn’t call for help right away.”

  “She was probably scared,” I say. The door opens and a woman with grey hair walks in frowning.

  “Folsom,” she says. “You gave us quite the scare. I’m Doctor Hunley.”

  “Sorry to give you trouble, doc. That’s what men do.”

  She glances at me from where she’s examining one of the machines, not sure how to take me.

  “A joke, doctor,” I say, leaning my head back against the pillows and closing my eyes. There’s nothing
worse than someone not getting your humor.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Glad to see you’re well enough to joke.”

  “I feel like shit actually. Can I have something to drink?”

  She nods to Gwen, tells her to bring me water. I’d meant an actual drink—the type grownups use to deal with difficult life situations. Apparently, I’m not funny anymore.

  “You had an ST-segment elevation myocardial infarction—or in layman’s terms, a heart attack. We’ve been notified that you take medication to help you perform your duties.” She pauses to look at me over the file she’s holding. I nod slowly, confirming my little blue pills, and she continues. “Combined with daily alcohol usage and a history of high blood pressure, it most likely contributed to a blockage in your arteries.”

  Gwen walks back into the room carrying a pitcher of water and a glass. She sets them down on a table and wheels it over to me. I make a face to let her know that’s not the kind of drink I want, and she rolls her eyes. I notice that she looks worried and for a minute I wonder if she’s worried about me. No, I remind myself, none of them are worried about me as a person. They’re worried about me as an End Man. I return my attention to the doctor who is talking about my recovery.

  “I can’t stop taking the pills,” I interrupt. “If you want me to impregnate three women a day, the pills are necessary.”

  “Mr. Donahue, I don’t think you understand the gravity of this situation. Your life is at risk. If you continue to live the lifestyle you have been living, I guarantee you’ll have another heart attack, and next time we may not be as successful in saving your life.”

  “My life is less important than that of the well-being of society, is it not? In fact, my life becomes completely useless to all twelve of the Regions if I cannot produce children. But go ahead, check with your superiors and see what they say. I guarantee you they won’t advise taking me off the pills.” I settle back against the pillows and accept the glass Gwen holds out to me. As far as I’m concerned the conversation is over. The Regions would never so much as allow a leave of absence. They’ll expect me to be back on my feet and fulfilling my duties in less than a week.