Genesis Lost - Books 1 - 6, page 5
Kenya pointed down the road. “It’s only three blocks that way. Try to look normal. I would prefer nobody saw what the council is forcing me to do here.”
“Whatever you say.”
I followed behind her, taking one big step after another where she took three hurried ones. It was clear she tried to bring as much distance between us as she could manage. But I ran six miles each morning back home, so she managed rather poorly.
“What are those?” I asked and pointed at the small patches of dirt we found at each block, fenced with white pickets and trellises leaning against the walls.
“Community gardens. It’s a new project they’ll start this fall, where people can come each day and get fresh fruits and vegetables.”
“And who works them? Who weeds the flower beds and harvests the veggies?”
She gave me a confused glance. “We all do, of course.”
“Communism-much?”
“We aren’t communists,” she snarled. “The Districts have a democratic structure like the United States used to.”
“Okay, let’s see. They put me up in a community home. You’ve got community gardens. Anything else that starts with community?”
“We have community hubs.”
I shrugged. “Like I said. Communists. And you’ve got the oppressive government to vouch for it.”
I watched her ignite, stepping on the brakes and plunging her hands against her slim waist. “Our government is not oppressive.”
“They’re oppressing your sexuality.”
“And the sexuality of the men!” Something other than feistiness powered the strength in her tone now. Insecurity? Fear, perhaps? “Do you wanna hear why the Districts have so many women compared to the Clans?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” I gazed around and pointed at a guy half my size, reminding me of the pot-belly I raised when I was ten. “Because it sure as hell isn’t because your men are more handsome than us.”
“Handsome?” The way she gaped at me and tapped her foot against the concrete left no doubt, I had found her button. And totally pushed it. “Is everything a joke to you, Nix? Women fled to the Districts because it’s the only safe place for us to be. It’s getting harder and harder for me to believe that someone who doesn’t understand that and even jokes about it, is supposed to become a chieftain.”
Ouch. Saying her statement didn’t hurt would have been a lie. Nobody was happy about me becoming a chieftain. Not Blake. Not me. Fuck. And definitely not dad. For a long while, I followed Kenya in silence, letting myself fall behind to the distance she felt comfortable with — which must have been at least thirty feet.
They had just opened up the museum, a building with massively high ceilings, the large hallway lined with black and white marble columns. I’ve been to a few museums before, back when we still left our territory to scavenge the now-abandoned cities for medical supplies, old machinery and the occasional twenty-first-century treat that had decent shelf-life.
Framed artwork hung along the walls. Arched double-doors stood open and invited everyone to step into the exhibitions, separated by areas of life.
The more people came, the louder their whispers grew, quietly discussing the child-sized mannequins hooked up to a bunch of tubes inside a staged hospital room. I pointed at the plaque in front of the metal barrier and read it out loud. “Quick fact. Almost twelve-million people died each year due to lack of funds for medical care.”
“Do you have medical care for all your people?” Kenya asked, letting her hand glide along the brushed aluminum of the barrier.
“We manage with what we have, but there’s always room for improvement. If we agree on the merge, I hope things will get better for us since you have the labs to manufacture antibiotics.”
“Huh.” That was all she said. Then she left the exhibition and waited for me in the hall.
We worked ourselves through different exhibitions, which pretty much all had the same message: the twenty-first-century fucked it all up. Followed by clansmen as a close second.
Propaganda lined the walls, talking about overpopulation, pollution, and the failed medical system. Each corner praised artificial insemination and condemned unregulated procreation. A fancy word for fucking.
When I walked through the next door, Kenya remained outside in the hall, her shoulders drooped, and her gaze lost in the filthy fibers of the black and white checkered carpet. “You’re not coming?”
She dismissed me with a wave. “You go ahead. I’ll wait out here for you.”
I shrugged and walked back inside, following the red guide-arrows on the ground.
The moment I set eyes on the first mannequins, I understood why she didn’t come. Hell, suddenly I didn’t even want to be in here.
Each breath scraped my throat as if I had shards of glass for breakfast. Right in front of me, the lifelike models stabbed knives, cut throats, and dragged women by their hair. Whoever created this exhibition understood how to stage drama.
Fake blood veined through artificial snow. Children cowered over their dead parents. A man fought off another, while a woman dragged her exhausted body over the muck and dirt.
A chill needled my spine.
Inside I wanted to scream. Let everyone know that this wasn’t us. Wasn’t me. But on the outside? On the outside, I stayed as quiet as all the others around me, because I realized each of these scenes had some truth to it. Each scene also had a little bit of me in it, and that truth paralyzed me down to the marrow inside my bones.
I swallowed. Twice. Three times. Then I turned around and walked back into the hall, grunting a “We’re done” at Kenya and stomped toward the exit.
She hurried behind me, shouting, “It’s difficult to be confronted with the truth, isn’t it?”
I stopped so hard and swung around so fast, she bumped into my chest and shuffled back a few steps, her hands flailing for balance. “That is your truth. Not mine. It’s a bunch of propaganda, though I can’t say I’m surprised.”
She stabbed the air with her finger pointing back at the exhibition. “So you’re saying that kind of stuff never happened? And isn’t still happening?”
“I didn’t say that.” I raked the few strands of hair out of my face which had gone astray. “All I’m saying is that we are not all like that.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that? Believe that you’re different and harmless?”
And just like that, she had found my button.
All my life, I cramped those kind of pictures in the far back of my mind. It’s what kept me sane. But this woman just wouldn’t let it go. She made it all push back in front of me, a memory that wasn’t even my own, yet painted in vivid colors and so fucking painful.
“Oh no, I’m not harmless. I am as dangerous as any other clansman out there. Perhaps even more.” I took a step toward her. Then another. Then another. Until she retreated, inching her back against the marble wall. “We are all dangerous. Your government made us dangerous the moment they accidentally killed off all the women because they wanted to get a handle on the overpopulation.”
I leaned myself with one arm against the wall, towering over her and not feeling a bit sorry about the dread in her eyes. The concern. I continued in a mere whisper. “And guess what. Every guy around you here in the Districts is just as dangerous. Do you never wonder which one of them might force himself on you if he didn’t drink that water? Never crossed your mind? The difference between them and me. Between me and what those mannequins resemble, is that I can control myself.”
I could. Well, maybe not at that moment. But that evil inside me my father left behind? I had it under control.
“I’m going to scream if you don’t back away from me right now.”
Her chest rose and fell in loud, rapid puffs, making her will to fight spike behind her eyes once more, and turning her lips pinker and more inviting than was good for me.
I shook my head. “We both know you won’t scream.”
“What makes you so sure about that?”
“Because a scream would have been your first reaction. But you’re only half as intimidated as you’re acting. Wanna hear why?”
“Why?”
I tapped my fingertip against her collarbone. “Because deep inside, you already know that I won’t harm you, or I would have done it already. Right here is probably the safest place for you in this entire world.”
“Because I look like a dude?”
“What?” I shrunk back a bit, an uncomfortable kind of warmth spreading into my limbs. If I hadn't known better, I would have said her face carried tension. The kind that grabs you when you’re restless and insecure, begging for reassurance. The thing was, this woman shouldn’t have wanted it. Not from a man. Not from me.
“No, not because you look like a dude,” I went on. “I already told you you’re a stunning woman, Kenya.” I allowed my eyes to wander across her body. Caress those breasts with my gaze. Yeah, I wanted her. Or any woman, really.
I ignored the painful boner which pressed against the zipper of my jeans. “You are not safe because I wouldn’t want you. You’re safe because I know you don’t want me.”
Chapter 7
Kenya
Nix flipped through the pages of an old magazine, ignoring how the two receptionists held their heads together. They covered their whispers with their hands and threw him curious glances. From time to time, the isolated giggle hollered through the waiting room.
I sat down on the chair next to him and let out a sigh. “I gotta say, I’m a bit surprised.”
“That I can read?”
“No, it’s not quite that bad,” I said, shaking my head at the boyish smirk on his face. “Seems like some people wouldn’t mind your Clan merging with the Districts.”
He said nothing. Just flipped a page and kept on reading, but it’s not like I could have blamed him.
The way we had butted heads yesterday at the museum forced us both into retreat. There was no way either of us could keep up the constant arguments for two entire months.
I had no choice but to play along with this as best as I could manage.
The flower bouquet on the glass table in front scented the small room, and I allowed myself to sink deeper into the cushion. “Do you actually want this merge for your Clan?”
He lowered the magazine onto his lap and stared at me for a moment. “I want better access to medicine, education, and stuff like that. We all want peace. But I won’t give up on what we stand for to get it.”
“And what do you stand for?”
His face disappeared back behind the magazine. “Not what you believe, that’s for sure, which I bet starts with the letter R.”
“Enlighten me then.”
Nix put the magazine back on the table, shoved in his chair and turned to look at me. “We want to live the way nature intended us to, Kenya. The goal for any clansman is to find a wife, marry, and have children. Everyone knows we’ve got our problems, but most of our men are putting their lives on the line to protect the few women we got.”
“Because they’re weak and outnumbered.”
“You don’t get it.” His voice had taken on a gentle tone, but his eyes just stared at the armrest, lost and unfocused. “We don’t protect them because they’re weak. We protect them because, regardless of their numbers, they’re the most precious thing to us. They carry our sons and daughters. They are calm where we are impulsive. They offer us a place to be weak.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Guess it’s not something you would ever understand.”
Something about his words churned the insides of my stomach. “Why not?”
“Don’t get me wrong, Kenya. You’re smart, I give you that. But when it comes to the bond between a man and a woman, you have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
“My parents were married,” it blurted out of me, and I immediately regretted it when his eyes came back into focus.
“I didn’t know that.” He stroked his hair back, then smoothed his beard between his palms. “This is probably the first time you mentioned your family. But still, your parent’s experience isn’t yours. So… sorry, but you still got no clue. Makes me realize you were probably a poor choice of a mediator.”
“Trust me, I didn’t want to be your mediator.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
One of the receptionists walked up to us, straightening her skirt before she gifted Nix an overly-sweet smile. “Another five minutes and the council will be ready to receive you.”
Nix gave a quick nod, his eyes glued to the receptionists behind as she swayed her hips from left to right and back behind the counter.
I leaned into him and gave a tug on his arm. “Just out of curiosity, why do you think I make a bad mediator?”
His eyes trailed up his arm and stalled where my skin touched his, staring at it for an overlong moment. “Shit. This is way harder than I expected,” he mumbled and ripped his arm out from beneath my hand. “What was your question again?”
“Ehh… I asked why you think I’m a bad mediator.”
“Not bad.” He crossed one leg over the other. Then dropped it. Then crossed it over the other again. “Just not equipped for it. I mean, you clearly believe that none of our men can control their desires. But you have never experienced just how strong those desires can be.”
“And just because they’re strong justifies —”
“Never-mind.” He swung his magazine up in an immediate peace offering. “Forget I mentioned it.”
“Are you saying that I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I didn’t drink the water?”
“I’m not saying anything about this anymore. Probably should have kept my mouth shut to begin with.”
“No, honestly, Nix.” I let my hand dart for his arm again, but he pushed himself up as soon as the corners of his eyes had detected the hint of the motion. “I know for a fact that I could control it.”
“You think.”
“Huh?”
He tapped his finger against his temple. “You think you could control it. But you can’t know, because you’ve never been in the situation, have you?”
My head turned dizzy at his words. Not because they were so terribly complicated but because, somehow, what he said actually made sense. Nix understood what it felt like to desire to be with a woman. He knew what it felt like not to have his desire met. Me? I had no grasp of the actual issue because any image of being close to a man left me cold. Indifferent. Unfeeling…
“Nix,” the receptionist called from behind her desk. “They’re ready for you now.”
I got up from the chair, a tingle spreading across my cheeks. And heat. The uncomfortable kind that made your fingers twitch, because you wanted to scratch it away so bad.
I hated the fact that Nix had a point. “I’ll stop at a friend’s place and be back in time. Only five blocks from here along the main road.”
“What color?” Nix asked and gestured the receptionist to give him a minute.
“What do you mean?”
“The house. What color is it?”
“Um… yellow, with blue shutters. Why?”
He shrugged. “Guess it’s a habit of mine. Whenever my sister goes somewhere, I ask her for a description of the location, in case I need to track her down.”
“You have a sister?” I asked, but Nix had already turned around, following the receptionist into the meeting room.
I grabbed my stuff and headed toward the staircase, but the other lady leaned over the counter and said, “he’s a handsome man, don’t you agree?”
Those blue eyes of his now gleamed behind a wall of glass, where he shook hands and introduced himself to our council. Maybe he was handsome when he didn’t slam his fist into walls inches away from my face. Not that it mattered. He was dangerous. His words.
I struggled a smile onto my face. “I guess so.” Then I hurried down the stairs and left the building, following the main street five blocks down to Esther’s house.
The messages I had sent to her remained unanswered. An odd thing, considering we had been friends for over eight years now. But the moment I turned onto her driveway, I could tell this friendship no longer existed. That fact, along with the massive hole in their backyard, made a chill creep up my spine.
Big and small tire prints had shredded the lawn and deep grooves, pooled with water, had formed along the gravel. I went up the stairs beside the three-bay garage first and grabbed for the handle. Locked.
Through the window above, the room behind was clean. No, not clean. Purged. The walls had been painted, removing all traces of poster nails, furniture outlines and that slice of pizza I once threw at her but had hit the wall instead. Not even cans of paint had been left behind.
The chill now penetrated my spine, turning my body stiff. Rigid. Where did she go? And why didn’t she answer any of my messages?
I walked down the stairs, one deliberate, stiff step at a time. The closer I came to her parent’s house, the more my feet dragged across the once perfectly-manicured lawn. I don’t remember touching the handle of the front door. But it fell open with a never-ending creak, echoing from the empty rooms behind it and needling my brain.
Any proof that I ever had a friend named Esther had been eradicated. Painted over. Deep-cleaned. Uprooted like the old carpet in the living room, which now sported brand new tiles. This house was as clean of dirt as it was of memories.
But there was something else in there, too. Something dark. Nothing but a nuance or a mood, clinging to those walls underneath all that fresh white paint. At that moment, the chill from earlier had penetrated my marrow, freezing my bones and joints and muscles in a state of unexplained anxiety.
I leaned against the wall, my back slowly but steadily slipping toward the ground, until the cold stone tiles sent shivers across my skin. This made no sense. Not to me.
How long I sat there, I couldn’t say. It must have been a while, though, because Nix’s voice eventually shouted from somewhere in the front of the house. He called out my name, over and over, his voice coated with an extra layer of concern each time my name left his lips.
