Luminary (8 page)
Carey bows his head. “They started with a hundred. But so many had severe mutations, only thirty made it to term.”
“It was when we saw those babies that we knew we had to leave.” Tears spring from Kristie’s eyes. “So much death, so much pain. A 70 percent fail rate. And they were thrilled.”
“We all knew a few places aboveground survived.” Carey places an arm around Kristie’s shoulders. “The bombs were pointed at the major cities across the world, and the effects would radiate far beyond. But there are places—places like this—far enough from any major city that they were not destroyed.”
“But how did you escape so soon after the War?” I think of all the precautions we took—forty years after the War had taken place.
“We escaped much like you did.” Carey stands and walks to a cabinet. He opens it and pulls out a suit—one exactly like ours but yellowed with age and dusty from disuse. “Three of us snuck old motorcycles down before the War for sentimental value. We rode those here. Somehow we managed to dig up enough gas from the rubble to keep them going.”
“The Designer was protecting you,” John says.
“Maybe.” Carey shrugs. “But whatever—or whoever—it was, we found our way here, to New Hope.”
“New Hope?” I like the way that sounds. I like the way it makes me feel.
“Yes,” Kristie says. “We helped the people here start over. We teach at the school. We raised our children here.”
“We even helped raise our grandchildren.” Carey winks.
“We tried to help make a place that will one day be able to combat what the Scientists in the State are creating. Not with war or anger, but with education and hard work.”
The room falls silent. There is much to consider. Fifteen Scientists. Loudin murdering whole countries and lying to his own. Seventy percent dead. New Hope.
I feel caught between two worlds. The State is even more terrible than I realized, and I am ashamed of it. But it is also home, all I have ever known. But I was an anomaly there.
Am I any less of an anomaly here?
I
have to get away. I walk out of the large building. Berk calls after me but I keep moving. I cannot think in there . . . I cannot listen to any more. My brain feels as if it is full of the ashy ground we passed as we traveled here.
I do not know where to go. I just walk. I keep my eyes down. I do not want to see these buildings, the pods. I do not want to see the people. And they do not want to see me. No one is out. They are all inside. I hear muffled voices and know they are close but frightened. Let them be frightened. I am frightened too.
I never really thought ahead to what this village might be like, what we would find here. I worried that the people might
be mutated. I worried that they might be violent. I worried that they wouldn’t exist. But never, in all my worrying and thinking, did I ever consider this. The Ten were Fifteen? And Dr. Loudin made the choice to attack countries around the world—some neutral—because he wanted to create a better world than the old one?
“Thalli,” John calls out. He is winded. I cannot believe he followed me. He needs to rest.
“Please, John.” I stop, but only because I want him to do the same. “I can’t go back there right now.”
“Neither can I.” John takes a deep breath.
I suddenly realize that this information is far more personal, far more painful, to him than it is to me. His son is one of the Ten. Even if Dr. Turner wasn’t privy to Dr. Loudin’s plans when he made them, Dr. Turner chose to abide by them once they were made. He was the head Geneticist. “Where are you going?”
I link an arm through John’s. “I don’t know.”
“May I come?”
I don’t answer. I just begin walking. He cannot go far, so I ask the Designer to help us find a place fast. I feel a little sick as I make the request. I have been so angry with him lately. So full of doubts. So focused on myself. What right have I to make any request?
“There.” John points to a strange-looking structure. Two large triangles made from cut trees support a post that looks weathered. From that post hang two objects. “Swings.”
“What?” I watch as John moves quicker.
“Swings.” John sits on one of the objects. It moves with him. He lifts his feet and smiles broadly. “We used to push our
children on these for hours. I built them a huge swing set in our backyard. Two swings, a slide, a fort, a climbing wall. It took me months. But the kids loved it. I was fixing it up before I came out to visit James. We were planning on our grandkids using it.”
John never got to see his grandchildren. He came out to visit Dr. Turner just before the Nuclear War hit, before his daughter had her first child. He spent the last forty years locked up in the State, a virtual prisoner, allowed only to speak to those scheduled for annihilation. He was seen as a danger to the citizens because of his faith.
“Sit.” John points to the object beside him. “It’s fun.”
I lower myself onto the narrow rectangular seat. The ropes holding it move and I almost fall. I hold on to them with both hands to make them stop moving and I sit. I move slowly at first—back and forth.
“Walk backward and then pick up your feet.”
I can imagine John saying this to his children. There is such joy in his eyes. I cannot refuse, despite my fear at the instability of this swing. I do as he says, holding on to the ropes with all my strength. My heart feels as if it has dropped into my stomach. But the sensation is exciting. Fun.
John laughs as I swing higher, following his instructions to “pump” my legs. I feel as if I could touch the sky with my feet. I lean back and close my eyes. The sensation is unlike anything I have ever experienced.
“You have missed out on so much.” John’s voice is sad. I am sure he is thinking about the world before the War.
“Why would Dr. Loudin do that?” I look at John, slowing my swing with my feet. “Was the world so terrible that it needed to be destroyed?”
“Have I ever told you about Noah?”
“I don’t think so.” Did John hear my question? I want to ask again but he begins speaking.
“In the Designer’s book, there is the story of a man named Noah.” John stands and stretches his arms over his head. “The world had become evil. People were ignoring the Designer, angering him. So he decided to destroy it. All of it. With a worldwide flood. Because Noah was a righteous man, the Designer spared him and his family.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It sounds terrible, yes,” John says. “But the Designer is the Designer. Everything he does is good. It is just.”
“You think Dr. Loudin was acting like the Designer?”
“I think Dr. Loudin believed he could be like the Designer.” John shakes his head. “James believed the same thing. That there is no Designer. That man is the highest power. They believed they knew what was best for the world. The Scientists were sure they knew how to re-create the world into a better place. Without emotion and religion and conflict.”
“But they did, didn’t they? With the exception of anomalies like me?”
John walks to me and places his soft hands on my face. “You are not an anomaly. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. And no, the Scientists did not create a better place. A world without the Designer is not better. It is a world without hope, without true joy, without love.”
I know John is right, but I still struggle with it. Feeling so much seems wrong. Doubting the Scientists seems wrong. It goes against all I have been taught.
I glance at John and notice he has closed his eyes, his lips
moving, eyebrows furrowed. John prays at all times. I wait as he finishes. He opens his eyes and lets out a deep sigh. “It is James. The Designer is impressing upon me to pray for him. God is not through with my son.”
I want to ask how he knows that, what he means, but John is looking at something else, something beyond me. I turn to see Berk limping toward us. “I think I’d better head back. I’ll see you later.”
I am suddenly sick to my stomach. I don’t know what to say to Berk. I am afraid of what he will say. Afraid to hear he has developed feelings for Rhen. Truthfully, he and Rhen are better suited for each other than he and I. She is logical, careful. And now she seems to be developing abnormal feelings. But not completely abnormal, like mine. She doesn’t lose control and cry or question or get angry. She is just softer and kinder. Berk deserves someone like her. She is better than me in every way.
John pauses to whisper something in Berk’s ear. Berk nods but he doesn’t smile. I cannot identify the look in his eyes, but I do not like it. It makes me uncomfortable. Nervous. He keeps walking toward me. I didn’t even notice when I stood and turned around. I cannot think clearly where Berk is concerned.
“Thalli.” He is standing in front of me, his gaze locked on mine. “It is time to talk.”
I
do not like the way he said that. His eyes weren’t soft. His voice wasn’t gentle. He seemed more like “Dr. Berk” than the Berk I have come to know.
“Can we walk a little?” His voice is higher pitched than normal. It is not the smooth melody of a trombone, but the pinched tone of a French horn. He is still limping, his leg not completely healed from the attack.
“Have you seen the healer yet?”
“Not yet.” He looks ahead, the silence between us almost tangible. He seems to know where we are going. His legs are longer than mine, so even with his injury, I struggle to keep up.
Now as I walk, I look everywhere. I need my mind to be occupied with something else—anything else.
I walk past a faded blue pod with pieces of cut trees on parts of the top. The window fabric is pulled back, and I see a living area with a variety of furniture. I stop to look closer. I cannot help myself. The fabrics remind me of John’s room: colorful, patterned, aged. Learning pads appear to be everywhere, but that cannot be. There is no technology here. No electricity. These pads are still. Just pictures. But pictures of what I assume are families. I am still uncomfortable with that thought. John told me about families, about marriage and children, but that is so different from the world of my experience.
Berk has not stopped, and when I look for him, I see he is far ahead. I jog to keep up with him. He doesn’t look back at me. I look beyond him and see a hill. It is similar to the hill we walked over to arrive here, but this one has blue flowers all over it and the grass is thicker.
Berk is at the top of the hill. He finally looks back and watches me as I climb to meet him.
“Where are we?” I am breathing heavily. The hill is steeper than I expected.
“Look.” Berk motions below. “A lake.”
I see water. A lot of water. “A lake.” It is beautiful. The sun reflects off the ripples created by the wind. Leaves drift onto the surface and float along. Birds are flying overhead and cows are drinking at its banks. I have never seen anything like it. It is so much bigger than the pond John swam in when we first arrived.
“Sit.”
I sink into the grass, enjoying the feel of it between my fingers.
“We haven’t spoken much lately.” Berk is still looking at the lake.
“You have been busy.” I shrug. “And hurt.”
“I am recovering well.” Berk states the obvious. Will our entire conversation be this uncomfortable?
We are silent. Again. I know what he wants to say. And I know why he cannot bring himself to say it. “Berk, it’s all right. You and Rhen. I understand.” I don’t know how I got those words out without crying, but I did.
“What?”
“I’ve seen you.” I turn and look at him. His green eyes are wide and I cannot look away. “You have feelings for her. And that’s all right. I understand.”
“I have feelings for Rhen?” Berk stands there, his jaw flexing. “And you
understand
?”
I stand and brush the grass from my fingers. Why is he angry? He should be relieved, not angry.
“Thalli.” Berk takes a step closer to me, places his hands on the sides of my face. I feel the heat from his touch, thawing what I thought was frozen. “How can you think that?”
I can’t think when Berk is touching me. I pull away, examine the grass. “You were with her all the time.”
“You almost died, Thalli.” Berk waves his arms. “Your body was still processing the toxins from the annihilation chamber. Your emotions were all over the place. We were trying to spare you needless stress.”
“You were trying to spare me?” I am not sure what in his last statement didn’t offend me. I feel my heart freezing again. “You almost died too, Berk. You were barely able to walk.”
“But my mind wasn’t compromised.”
“And mine was?” If he wants to see emotions out of control, he will see it. “Was it compromised when I saved your life? When I carried the chamber and helped John? Is that what you and Rhen were talking about? Poor, deluded Thalli. She spent too long in the annihilation chamber. Let’s ignore her so she doesn’t get upset and do something to endanger us all.”
Berk opens his mouth and closes it. His self-control, apparently, is also superior to mine.
“Say it, Berk.” I push his shoulders with my hands. “Go ahead.”
Berk takes a step back and shakes his head. He is leaving. I want to stop him. I want to apologize, to grab him and hold him and beg him to choose me over Rhen. But I do not. I cannot. I stand in place, watching Berk walk away, wishing he had left me in the State.
H
ey, new girl.” A boy about my age, with dark hair and eyes, olive complexion, tall, and very muscular, runs up to me, his white smile wide.
I have been in New Hope for three days. Carey and Kristie have given us rooms in what they call their home—part of the large structure we first saw when we arrived. Berk and John are on the opposite end as Rhen and me. They have been spending their days at the healer’s. John seems to be moving better, so I suppose it is working.
I have not spoken to Berk, have only seen him in passing. I have spent my days reading. I read the book by Dickens, a story
of a boy who loves a girl who treats him terribly and doesn’t love the girl who truly loves him. I am not sure if I feel more like the boy in the story, the terrible girl, or the good one.