First (8 page)

The Right Decision

Socrates

“S
ocrates, are you awake?” Maggie’s
voice winds its way into my painkiller-induced haze. How many had I taken? Two? Three. Ellie would kill me if she knew, but sometimes, the pain is just so bad, I can’t take it anymore. How am I supposed to last six months like this?

“Maggie?” I scrub the weariness from my eyes and roll forward in my chair. Even though it’s dulled, the pain hovers in the back of my mind, waiting for me to lower my guard. Ben lifts his head from his pillow on the floor but drops it when he realizes it’s only our housekeeper.

In the doorway to my study, Maggie shifts from side to side, her blue robe tied crookedly and her feet tucked into worn slippers.

“What is it?”

“You have a visitor.” She looks nervous, and that never happens. Maggie is as unflappable as the red mountains surrounding my home.

I glance at the antique grandfather clock on the wall. 10:42 p.m. “At this hour?” She shrugs. “Who is it?”

Maggie straightens her robe and combs her fingers through her hair. “The President.”

“Here? What in the world for?” I push myself to my feet, knees creaking, back protesting, and I wince. “I haven’t seen Andrew in ages.”

“Sir, he’s waiting,” she pleads. I roll my neck to crack it, grab my cane, pull myself to my feet, and limp toward her. Ben pulls himself to his feet, stretches, and joins me.

“What does he want?”

Maggie shrugs. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t say.”

“Well, where is he, woman?” I look around my study. “Is he coming here?”

She shakes her head. “No, he’s waiting in the library.” She holds the door open for me and I hobble down the hall.

The formerly towheaded boy with a gap-toothed smile and a love of soccer who turned into the President of the United States sips a brandy as he gazes out my floor-to-ceiling windows into the clear Santa Fe night sky. When he turns around, I see that the crooked smile is still the same, as are his father’s nose, his wide brown eyes, and thick, calloused hands. Lines bracket his mouth and eyes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Socrates, my friend. I’m sorry to be calling on you so late. I hope you don’t mind, but I helped myself to a drink.” Tossing back the rest of his drink, he pulls me into a strong embrace.

I wince at the sudden pain, and Ben growls. The President of the United States releases me and looks down at my dog. “Sorry about that, buddy.” He digs in his pocket, pulls out what looks like an ancient strip of beef jerky, and tosses it to Ben.

Having found a new best friend, Ben accepts his treat and hops on the couch to chew on it in peace. I shake my head. “Some guard dog you are,” I grumble and head over to the bar. Andrew follows me and sets his glass on the table. I grab the bottle of brandy and pour myself a snifter before tipping the bottle toward his. He nods, and I refill his glass. After resealing the bottle, I settle myself on one of the old brown leather recliners and take a sip.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” I raise my eyebrows at Andrew’s wrinkled gray pinstriped suit, loosened tie, and mussed up hair.

“You always did get right to the point.” He chuckles and takes another mouthful of brandy, swishing it around his mouth before swallowing. “It’s this damn bill.”

“The Free America Act?”

He laughs, a harsh, hollow sound. Ben raises his head from the couch and lets out a low woof. “What else?”

“I thought you supported it?”

He stares into his glass, swirling the amber liquid. “I do. But I think you and I are the only ones.” He clenches his fingers around the glass, then forces himself to release it and lays his palm flat on the dark wood bar. The lines around his eyes deepen, and his eyes lose their focus.

“You know that’s not true.” My lips twist into a faint smile. “At least half the country is on our side.”

He barks out a laugh. “Yes, but they don’t get to vote.”

“Is that what this is about? Your reelection?” Disgust fills me. This isn’t the Andrew I know. His father, Anthony, would never have stood for a son who kowtows.

His eyes shoot up to meet mine, and an alcohol-induced flush colors his neck. “I can’t deny that, though I hope you know I’d do the right thing, regardless of whether or not it cost me the presidency.”

I try to tamp down the censure rising in my voice. “Of course you would. I completely support you. Your father taught you well.”

He throws back the rest of his drink and nods at the bottle for another. “If only he were here. He’d do a damn better job of this than I am.”

I put my hand on his and squeeze it. “But he’s not, and I think you’re doing just fine.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Veronica threatened to leave me.” Ahh, the real reason for his discontent.

“I’m so sorry.” Sympathy fills my voice. I know that kind of heartbreak all too well.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Me, too. And it’s because of this bill, Socrates. That’s why she’s leaving me. She doesn’t think it should pass or that the Texans should be freed.”

“That wasn’t her platform when you were both elected. I thought you both supported it.”

“Apparently she changed her mind.”

“Huh. Well, I guess, as the vice-president, her personal views really don’t come into play unless something tragic happens to her presidential husband.” I down the rest of my drink. “Are you backing out?”

“No!” He stands up, knocking the stool back. It crashes against the floor with a dull thud. He quickly rights it and sits down again. “It’s something my father always supported. I told him that, if it was the last thing I do as president, I’d get this damn bill passed.” His eyes glow, and he bangs his fist on the bar, rattling our glasses. Even now, through the low lights and brandy-infused heat, he even looks like his father. And here I thought the passion had been tempered in the generation since the former president was assassinated on his way to a speech on human rights. No one had been blamed, but the Lifers had taken credit.

I can see Andrew is thinking about his father, too, because his eyes take on a faraway look. He takes a deep breath and holds it. Then, in a quieter, younger-sounding voice, he says, “This is the right decision, isn’t it Socrates? I mean, things are pretty bad the way they are. We really shouldn’t keep on the same course we’ve been on for the last two hundred years, right?”

Agonized, he seems to beg me for reassurance, for support. Should I tell him about my own indecisions? That it was the love of a good woman, Eliot, that drove me to support this bill? That it wasn’t my own idea, my own passion, but hers? Hers and his father’s? No, Andrew needs to believe I want this with the same fire as he does.

“Of course it is, Andrew. Your father would be proud.”

Dead Girl

Mira

M
y bag of clothing sits
open on the bed. It’s only halfway filled, a sad reminder of how few possessions I own. Mr. Flannigan told me I would be getting all new clothing, that I don’t have to bring anything, but I want
my
things, the pieces of me that Socrates doesn’t own, doesn’t control. It’s almost like I’m being erased, that as soon as I leave this room, this apartment, this farm, it’ll be as though I never existed in the first place.

Tears burn my eyes, and I shut them, squeezing them tight. It won’t do me any good to cry. I have to meet Tan, and I don’t want him to see me like this. I want to be the strong, laughing girl he grew up with, the girl he petitioned the Chesanings to marry, not the one who’s already got her bag packed.

The moon glows huge and low in the sky as I cross the courtyard. In the distance, crickets and frogs sing a melody to which only they know the lyrics. In the forest, something howls, a lonely drawn-out sound that raises the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck. My footsteps clap against the hard-packed earth, and I try to keep to the shadows on the off chance someone else is outside. I need to meet Tanner, but there’s something else I need to do first.

In the barn, the steel walls shut out most of the nighttime noises. What remains barely filters through the cracked barn door. I can’t leave it open any more or turn on the lights. Someone would definitely notice that.

The horses shuffle in their stalls, then relax when they realize it’s me. Tinker nickers softly and pokes her velvety nose over the stall door, her white blaze glowing in the darkness. I ignore her and make my way over to the stall at the end. I may not be able to change my fate, but I can change someone else’s.

It’s much darker at this end of the barn. The pale sliver of light from the moon doesn’t reach nearly far enough, so when I reach the stall, I have to feel my way along the heavy, wooden door. My hand bumps against the latch, and I fumble around as I open it, trying to keep the old iron from clanging too heavily. Once that’s done and the door swings open, I slip inside, letting the darkness swallow me. It takes more time than I’d like for my eyes to adjust, but once they do, I can make out the long rectangular shape of the cage in the corner. Walking slowly over to it, I whisper, “Hey girl, pretty girl. It’s all right. I’m going to help you. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”

Is it even a girl? Oh well, it’s not as though the fox really understands what I’m saying, anyway. I crouch down. The metal bars are rusted, probably with sharp edges just waiting to rip into my fingers. There are no handles or ropes, and the crate looks about as old as Mr. Socrates. The last fox came in a plastic carrier with a nice, padded handle on top. Then again, that fox was raised by humans, docile and even wagging its tail for attention. It had no idea the horror that awaited it. This one hisses at me, angry and afraid. I don’t blame her. I’m sure I’d be just like that if I were in her position.

Here we go
. I reach forward and grab each side of the crate. The hiss changes into a rumbling growl that crescendos into a cat-like yowl. The cage is heavier than I’d expected, so it must be metal. The fox herself can’t weigh more than ten or fifteen pounds. I heft it up a few more inches, trying to get a closer look at her. Maybe she’ll recognize me and calm down. The fox yowls even louder
. Yeah, fat chance, Mira. She’s not a dog. She’s a wild animal.

“Shhh.” She doesn’t listen.
Come on, Mir, it’s not like she can understand you
. “I’m trying to save your life here.” I lug the cage out the back door and toward the edge of the forest as fast as I can. When the natural path shifts toward the playground, I hesitate.
No, her best shot is the forest.

As if sensing my plan, or maybe the scents of the forest, the fox quiets. “Just hold on,” I whisper, envisioning her dainty paws struggling to balance on the painfully sharp wire bottom. I move faster, panting, taking advantage of her quiet.

By the time we make it to the edge of the forest, I’m sweating enough for the hounds to track me instead of the fox. Breathing heavily, I set the cage down and brace my hands on the top of it so I can catch my breath. Startled by the sudden movement, the terrified creature screeches and leaps forward, nipping at my hand through the bars.

“Hey.” I jerk back from the sudden pain. When I tilt my hand toward the moonlight, the pale glow illuminates a rivulet of blood from where one of her teeth grazed me.
Great, that’s all I need.
With my luck, I’ll contract some sort of wild fox disease.

After wiping my hand on my pants, I glance around to make sure I’m still alone. All clear, but kind of creepy. The forest stretches above and beyond on either side, its once welcoming branches forbidding and sinister, definitely not a place I would want to go, but perfect for the razor-toothed little beast in the cage.

“Now don’t you bite me again.” I reach around for the latch in the shadowed light. I flip it, allowing the little metal door to swing open. For a few seconds, the fox crouches in the back corner. Her nose twitches, a delicate little movement. The breath I didn’t realize I was holding catches in my throat, and in one leap, she’s out and zipping through the grass. Then she’s gone, just another shadow hidden in the trees.

“Good luck,” I whisper. What would it be like to be that fox? To have freedom within your grasp when you thought everything was lost? Would I run? Free in a forest that wasn’t my own? Or would I stay, cowering in the corner, afraid to step one foot into the unknown?

Looking down at the cage, I decide to leave it there. I don’t have time to take it back to the barn before I meet Tanner anyway. I’ll just grab it on my way back.

The playground at night is still full of light, though it’s the ghostly kind that makes me think the little kids who are gone might still be around. One of the old, cracked wooden swings clanks against another, a light wind twisting the metal chains. I blink, and in that split second, I hear my sister laughing, that head-thrown-back, open-mouthed laugh only the young have, the one they let out before they realize even something as simple as a laugh should be toned down to a more socially acceptable silence. Within minutes, I weave my way to Rosie’s little cross. It’s even more forlorn in the moonlight. The wind picks up, tickling the hairs at the back of my neck
.
It almost feels as if I’m not alone out here. But that’s crazy, I tell myself.

I’m about to turn right back around when the brush rustles at the edge of the forest, and a human-shaped figure steps out. Whoever it is hesitates then heads toward me.

“Mira,” Tanner whispers as he pulls me into his arms. I feel myself stiffen. Something’s not right. “I’m so glad you came. I thought I’d lost you.” His words are laced in his breath, desperate, as if he can’t waste another second, even to breathe, without telling me how he feels. His passion overwhelms me. I should feel the same way, do the same things. I should be holding on to him with all my might, right? He rests his head on mine. “I just can’t.”

Unease makes me want to pull away, to ask him what he’ll do once I’m gone, but I’m afraid of the answer. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” I say, but the words almost feel hollow, like it’s expected that I say something like this. He presses his lips to mine, but even now, right before I leave, I can’t return it.

“No, you don’t understand. I
can’t
lose you.”

“I know. I love you, too.” I search his eyes.

“Do you really, Mir? What if this is it? What if this is the end for you, for
us
? I don’t know what I’d do without you. I wish I could make you understand how I feel.”

I can’t take it any longer. I’m sick of everyone treating me like a child, of Tan telling me I don’t understand, of my mom acting as though it’s so great that I’m going, that it’s such an honor. I’m tired of Mr. Flannigan treating me as if I don’t know how to tie my shoes or go to the bathroom by myself.

“Stop it, Tanner. Just stop it. I’m not a kid.” I push away from him and take a deep breath. “You think I don’t know that when I leave, we’re done?” My voice echoes in the sudden silence. Even the crickets are too frightened to keep chirping. Tears sting my eyes. “I know that. Why do you keep reminding me?” I bite my lower lip as a ripping pain wrenches my heart apart. Life without Tanner, my best friend… my almost husband… I can’t… I can’t deal with it right now… I turn away from him and stop. What should I do? Stay here, listen to how much he loves me? Or leave, go home and face those empty walls, the memories crammed into a half-full bag of old, worn-out hand-me-downs.

He grabs my arm and spins me around. “Wait, I’m sorry. Please, I have to talk to you.” He takes a deep breath. “I… I met someone.”

I look up at him in shock. He met someone? Already? A new girl? Someone prettier, nicer, less prone to getting in trouble? Someone safe? “I can’t believe this! It’s only been two days, and you’re already moving on to someone new? Who is it? Rasina? Cassity? Shauna?”

Anger chases away the concern on his features. “You have got to be kidding me. Do you really think I’d do that?” He shakes his head. “You and I belong together, even the Chesanings know that.” He takes me by the shoulders and stares into my eyes. “I don’t want anyone else. Not now, not ever.” He gives me that sweet, heartbreaking smile that melts all the other girls. “Silly girl, you’re the only one for me.”

“Who did you meet, then?”

“A man.” He lifts my chin so I’m looking into his eyes. “Someone from outside the farm, a Lifer.”

“Tanner, no! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

He drops his hold on me and shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter. I’m trying to save you.”

“Save me from what? Leaving the farm? I couldn’t bear it if they killed you for talking to a rebel.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He takes my hands in his and squeezes them, as if that might make me listen to him. “Listen to me! These men, your teacher and your First, they want to kill you.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true. You’ve got to believe me.” I shake my head, trying to pull my hands from his, but he won’t let go. “Dammit, Mira. This man, the one who came to the farm, he told me the truth.”

“What truth is that?” I finally jerk my hands free and put them on my hips, glaring up at him. “Seems like everyone has their own version of reality, and no one’s telling me anything or letting me think for myself. Tell me, Tanner, just like everyone else is quick to do: what should I believe?”

“You’ve known me your whole life. Why would you trust these people you’ve only known for a couple of days over me?”

“Wait a second
.
You say I shouldn’t believe Mr. Socrates or Mr. Flannigan because I’ve only known them for a couple days, but you believe this rebel guy you just met today?”

Tanner looks away, a muscle jumping in his set jaw. Finally he turns back to me. “I didn’t just meet him today. He came here before the First showed up.”

“How did they know Mr. Socrates would pick me? It doesn’t make any sense. Our farm is a good day’s travel from anywhere else.”

“My guess is they have people near all the farms, waiting for a First to name an Absolved.”

“So… what is he supposed to do?” Tanner is involved with these people? These Lifers? That’s not the Tanner I know. The man who always follows the rules, does his job, even if he hates it. I look around me, feeling naked and vulnerable, as if the world has dropped out from under me.

“He wants to meet you, of course.”

“What if I don’t want to meet him?”

Tanner rolls his eyes. “Stop being immature.”

“Fine.” I huff, almost stamping my feet like Max in a tantrum. “What’s his name?”

Tanner runs his hand through his hair and looks to both sides of us, as if making sure we’re alone. “Henri Lee.”

I shake my head. “I’ve never heard of him.”

Tanner raises his eyebrows. “Of course you haven’t. It’s not like we can watch the news here or see the protests, or even read about what’s going on around the rest of the world.”

“Shhh, keep your voice down.” Okay, now he’s making me paranoid.

“No one’s going to hear us, Mir. We’re alone out here.”

But Tan’s earlier warning runs through my head. “Please, just… keep your voice down.”

“Fine, whatever. As I was saying…” He lowers his voice. “Henri Lee is a Lifer, one of the largest groups of people rebelling against the government.”

“What are they rebelling against?”

Tanner lets out a hollow laugh. “Sometimes I forget how little you know. Unlike some of the other, smaller groups, the Lifers mostly protest Project ReGenesis.”

“Really? Why would they object to me being freed?”

“Umm, maybe because you’re still not going to be free?”

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him. What is he talking about? “But I’m Absolved.”

Tanner just shakes his head. “That’s just a different name for the same thing, Mira. And if what the rebels tell me is true…” He clamps his mouth shut, his eyes widening, like he almost caught himself saying something he shouldn’t.

“What? If what is true? Please tell me! What does this guy want from me?” Tanner looks like he’s swallowed something sour, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Fine, if you’re not going to tell me, I’m going back. I… I need to get some sleep.” I turn on my heels but only take a couple steps before Tanner’s hand wraps around my arm, stopping me. As I spin around, he pulls me against his chest with a soft “oompf.”

“Wait, please. I’m sorry.” Listening to the heavy thump of his heartbeat, I feel myself slowly fall into that comfortable contentment I always experience around him.

Shaking the foggy feeling from my head, I pull away, but he doesn’t let me go and keeps me cradled in his embrace. “I can’t do this, Tanner. Not right now.”

“Please wait.” Desperation fills his tone. “This man, Henri Lee, said he could help you escape. He’ll help us go where no one can find us. Not the Chesanings, not the government, not your precious First. No one. We’ll be safe. That’s what Lifers do. They try to rescue Seconds and help them make new lives for themselves.”