Genesis Lost - Books 1 - 6, page 8
“Meaning?” the councilman who had introduced himself as Jerome asked, his body stiff and his eyes cold.
“Page seventy-three. The statistics say that children and particularly boys born in the last thirty years mature almost half a foot shorter on average, than children born to the Clans. I attribute this to the early introduction of the water, which most likely stunts their physical development.”
“You hear that?” he snarled and flashed a smile even colder than his stare. “He attributes it to the early introduction. Those are some fancy words for a clansman.”
Ah! The familiar sound of passive aggression. I wanted to ram his forehead into the edge of the table. Too bad the Districts didn’t appreciate those kinds of problem-solving skills.
“Councilman Jerome, please contain yourself,” Makena said. “This is neither the place nor the time for aggression and snarky comments. We’ve come here to make peace for the sake of humanity.”
Jerome smacked his lips and splayed his hands out wide on the armrest of his chair. Then he averted his gaze, his jawline rigid and tense.
Makena gave a wave of her hand. “Please, continue.”
“Um…” I let my thumbs run along the edges of the report, shoving and pressing and lining them up. “I am suggesting to raise the age of mandatory consumption from eight to fourteen years.”
“Fourteen is way too late,” Oliver blurted. “By that time boys have started puberty and most girls would have menstruated. It is too much of a psychological strain to introduce it that late.”
“Twelve then.”
The council members exchanged a variety of glances, reaching from fearful to composed.
I tapped my finger against the report. “Where I come from we castrate most billies at the age of —”
“What are billies?” Makena asked.
“Sorry… male goats. We castrate them at the age of five weeks.”
Jerome piped up once more, shoving in his chair and thrusting his chest out. “Why are we talking about goats? I thought we assembled here to discuss how to save humanity, not some stinky animal.”
Makena’s lips parted once more, but I silenced her with a wave of my hand before the first word escaped. “There is a lot of twenty-first-century research out there that proves castrating a male animal will stunt their growth. And I am bringing it up to support my fear that the water is responsible for the difference in height among the children.”
“Children aren’t goats,” he snarled. “And we don’t castrate our boys, although I do think it’s what you should do with the ones at the Clans.”
Turmoil jumped from chair to chair, growing from whispers of an oncoming storm to full-blown gusts and gales. But it didn’t compare to the way my arms trembled.
Adrenaline flooded my veins.
I pushed myself up with a grunt. “What the council does to its population might not include a sharp set of knives, but yes, it’s damn close to hormonal castration and neutering.”
Makena and Oliver both fanned out their arms in a pacifying manner, calming the room one downward-motion at a time. Three minutes later, silence had returned to the glass-framed room. An uncomfortable one, but silence nonetheless.
Jerome and I both sat wordlessly in our chairs, arms crossed in front of our heaving chests.
It wouldn’t take another hint for me to understand that this man didn’t support the idea of a merge. Somehow, I couldn’t blame him. We were one meeting into the negotiations, and a merge already seemed impossible.
Oliver grabbed his pen and scribbled something into the book in front of him, bound in green and white stripes. Then he ran the metal cap along his teeth, his focus on his handwriting. “I suggest the council will have a vote on this one. How about we move on to something less… controversial?”
Councilwoman Beth raised a hand, with the other she clutched her clipboard against her chest. “How about the transitional community homes?”
“Transitional what?” I asked.
“Transitional community homes,” Oliver repeated. “Page 211 on the report.”
“Ehh…” I grabbed the report once more, each page flip turning my head foggier. “Sorry, but I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
A dull pain spread across the back of my head, and I could almost hear the slap of dad’s hand against my skull.
Instead of finishing the report last night, I had massaged Kenya’s ankle, hiding my massive erection behind her toes. But seriously, which man with a functioning cock between his legs could have blamed me?
Oliver sighed, the frustration audible on the hum of his breath. “Councilwoman Beth suggested transitional community homes where the single clansmen lived together while getting used to their new way of life. Without women.”
I felt how my brow rounded against my scalp. “So, you’re not really trying to merge them. You still want to keep them away from the women of the Districts.”
“Only when it comes to their living arrangements in the beginning,” Beth said in little more than a whisper. “They will be exposed to women whenever they are in public. We just… I thought it would be easier for them to have a retreat without this distraction at first, while they learn to manage the loss of their bodily desires.”
“If you were to consume the water,” Oliver quickly added. “But even without, some sort of transition would be helpful.”
“Makes sense.”
And it did. Humans are creatures of habit, everyone knew that. Even without the presence of lust and desire, it was likely that a clansman would approach a woman based on learned behavior. And in the unlikely event of convincing the council to stop the use of the water, easing our men into it was particularly important.
I nodded. “It’s a yes from me if we can agree that they will move to their permanent residencies no more than a year later.”
A gleaming smile moved onto Beth’s face. “Sounds reasonable to me. See, we’re making progress.”
The other council members mumbled their agreements, except for Jerome, who clenched his jaw and ground his teeth.
“Page 137,” Oliver said. “That’s pretty straightforward as well. We screen our young people based on their natural skill set and interests, helping them to find a suitable occupation.”
I nodded in agreement, but Oliver cleared his throat and continued while looking at the others for potential backup. “Due to the extensive combat training and survival skills of your people, we would like to assign most clansmen to scavenging, hunting, and defense groups.”
“My men won’t be used as cannon fodder, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” I said, clank-clank-clanking my fingernail against the glass. “This merge is to improve the lives of my people, not to send them toward danger again for the gain of the Districts.”
“There’s no them and Districts. We will all be the Districts, Nix. And their experience and knowledge of the surrounding area is invaluable to us as a whole.”
I pulled my shoulders back and straightened my spine. “Volunteers only. If you expect us to give up our freedom, then I need to make sure it’s worth it.”
“Worth it?” Beth asked. “Excuse me but, how long do you think you can find antibiotics inside the ruins of old hospitals and clinics? Do they even still work? What about vaccinations for your children? Proper medical equipment? Education?”
“We educate our children just fine, thank you.” The humidity of the room suddenly seemed unbearable, and I crammed in my chair, searching for a spot with more draft from the fan. We had run out of antibiotics around the same time Blake got injured. Scavenging for more wasn’t an option due to neighboring Clans fighting over resources. “I’ll have to think about it. Perhaps we can bring it up for discussion again the next time we meet.”
“Nix,” Makena said, “has Kenya already taken you to the insemination clinic?”
Oliver pulled a sheet from his paperwork. “Not yet. I had to move it by a few days due to the freezer malfunction. It should be fixed by now, so she can take him before our next meeting.”
Makena shoved toward the edge of her chair. “She should. The report is quite vague when it comes to the in vitro fertilization, leaving out things Nix should know.”
“Like what?” I asked, but Oliver’s lips had already parted.
“It’s a draining issue for sure, but we don’t have the technology to avoid it. Yet.”
“Nonetheless,” Makena said. “It’s an ethical question, and we need to be transparent enough to allow Nix to come to his own conclusion.”
Each time I opened my mouth, one of the council members spoke up. They babbled about waste, humanity, and choices, but nobody cared to explain what the fuss was about. With each interruption, anger shot through my veins and along my arms.
But only until I slammed my hand onto the table, making everyone shrink back and turn to look at me. “For fuck’s sake. The conclusion of what?”
Jerome’s ugly laugh hollered into the room, and he said, “Guess not even the son of a chieftain can control himself. My, my, what are we even doing sitting at the table with those people?”
“Jerome…” Oliver said in a warning tone.
Makena rose from her chair and pulled all eyes on her. “Nix, in vitro fertilization always results in more fertilized eggs than we need for impregnation. Since we only implant two eggs, the rest have to be…” her voice stalled and her chin sunk toward her collarbone. “We have to discard them. It’s the underlying wrong, but one we can’t avoid at this point.”
Oliver scoffed. “There’s no underlying wrong in making sure children are born healthy instead of being a medical burden to our society. We’re in a vulnerable state. There’s no room for sentiments when we’re literally fighting for the survival of our species.”
“It’s murder,” Makena shouted, turning the air inside the meeting room so thick, even the blades of the fan seemed to struggle as they cut through it.
For half a minute or more, she stood there with her eyes pressed together. All the while, my lungs compressed, and each breath turned into a struggle for oxygen.
Not because of the trashed embryos. But because of the way the other council members stared at Makena, their eyes narrowed, and their heads cocked.
“That’s a very moral-theological thing to say.” Oliver let his eyes wander from one member to the next, his hand repeatedly rubbing along his chin. Then they flicked back to Makena. “How about we end this meeting on the fact that we agreed on transitional community homes, and meet again in three days?”
Everyone gave a nod and rose, leaving Makena behind in her statue-like posture, the veins along her trembling fingers popped.
She didn’t shrink back when I walked over to her. “You’re okay, ma’am?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Her voice shook. So did her head as she picked up her papers and pressed them against her chest as if it would somehow anchor her before being swept away by her sorrows. “How is Kenya treating you? It’s particularly tough on her, I’m sure, but I hope she is helping you to prepare for our meetings?”
“She is,” I said almost automatically because my attention lay on something else entirely. “Why would it be so difficult for her, though, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She stared up at me, a tired smile caressing her mouth. “Her father was from one of the Clans. So was her mother.”
“Huh,” was all I could say, the gears inside my brain already turning and smoking the shit out of my skull. “It kinda explains where that fight comes from, I guess.”
“She never mentioned it?”
“No.” I think I might have shaken my head at that moment. The slow kind that makes it oh so obvious that someone was deep in thought. Kenya was a clanswoman — a tiny shred of information, sending waves of curiosity down my skin. “No… she never mentioned a word about it.”
And I wondered why.
Chapter 11
Kenya
Nix should have returned from the meeting an hour ago, but not a single noise came from behind his apartment door when I knocked. Just as I lifted my hand again, knuckles facing the wood, one of the other residents walked up beside me.
Edith grabbed the towel from her shoulder and wiped it across her sweaty forehead. “If you’re looking for the new guy, he’s downstairs in the gym.”
“He’s working out?”
“Well, he is now.” She swung the towel around her neck and parked her hands on her hips. “He’s a pretty nice guy. Funny accent, though. He was kind enough to pace me during my workout.”
“I see.”
She continued down the hall toward her apartment, while I headed for the stairs, a limp my constant companion. My ankle was still bruised, and walking was painful, but I held on to the rail and struggled myself down to the first floor and through the community area.
Even before I reached our little gym, I could tell I had found him. Moans sounded through the open door and into the hall, and a whiff of sweat and musk climbed into my nostrils.
Nix hung on a rod which belonged to one of the workout equipment, pulling himself up until his chin poked over the metal. Each time he lowered himself down, legs angled and crossed underneath him, he took a deep inhale.
Then he pulled himself back up, the muscles around his arms swelling and the veins protruding. A low, guttural moan followed, his face scrunched up.
He was naked, at least from his hips up, dangling there like the epitome of a man, his entire torso covered in ink. And just like that, my pulse quickened as it had yesterday on the couch, torturing me with an uncomfortable longing.
If my body had taught me anything these last three days, it was that I couldn’t trust it anymore. I couldn’t trust myself. Not around Nix.
“The meeting didn’t go well?” I asked and walked up to him, watching the fine pearls of sweat forming around his ripped stomach.
He stalled for a moment and gazed down at me from the edge of the rod. “Can’t say it did.”
“And now you’re working off the frustration?”
“Uh-huh…”
He fell back into his pull-up’s, moaning each time his body rose yet continuing without as much as a tremble in his arms. His eyes flicked toward me whenever his nose poked over the rod, and I didn’t mind it one bit.
I, too, allowed myself to let my eyes graze over his body, taking in his muscle-packed chest and the line of sparse hair that trailed down below his navel.
I took the strain off my ankle and sat down, the black rubber mat clinging to the back of my shorts. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Depends,” he said between moans. “I don’t mind filling you in on the details, but first I’d like to hear why you never mentioned your dad was a clansman. And your mother a —”
“Because it’s none of your business!”
My words had come out sharper than I intended, catapulted through my gritted teeth by the discomfort building up inside me.
The hope that he would never find out wasn’t a very realistic one to begin with, but I wasn’t ready to have this conversation. Not yet. Not with him.
He dropped himself to the ground and positioned his body in a silent plank, his focus on the hollows between the rubber underneath his eyes.
A heaviness settled on my body. Leaving me paralyzed. Vulnerable.
Two minutes later, Nix pushed himself back from his plank and sat down across from me, breath bursting in and out of his nostrils. “Are they still alive?”
Don’t answer. “My mom is.”
He took a deep breath, but it did nothing to prepare me for the question I realized had to come next. “And your dad?”
Memories tightened my chest.
Most of the time, I wondered if they were even real. After all, there is only so much a four-year-old might remember. Did he ever throw me in the air only to catch me seconds later? Did he ever wipe away my tears after I fell and scraped my hands?
A lump the size of a fist formed at the back of my throat. Despite the heat of the room, my limbs turned cold and numb, as if confronting the past sucked the blood right out of me.
My lips parted and pressed back together over and over again.
Then I shook my head.
Nix cupped my cheek. I had no idea how it happened or when exactly he had lifted his arm toward me. But it was there now, providing warmth where I was frozen.
He stroked his thumb across my skin and scooted closer. My body had gone from paralyzed to limp, turning soft and pliable with every inch he sneaked up.
This was all wrong. So wrong.
Hate. That’s what I was supposed to feel, but his closeness wreaked havoc on my logical thinking.
He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and placed one hand against the back of my head, pulling my face against the crook of his neck.
He hugged me like that for a long while, swaying his body gently from left to right and back again, as if I needed cradling. And perhaps I did.
“How?” he whispered.
That one word was enough to make tears well behind my eyes. Another blink and the first would roll. I pressed them shut and dug my face deeper into the side of his neck — the wrong direction, yet the only one I felt drawn to.
“My mom said dad tried to bring us to a safer Clan. It was winter.” My voice cracked. Each sob sent a tremble through my vocal cords. “I don’t know where they came from and I didn’t understand back then what they wanted from my mom. He fought them off. One fled. But his injuries… they were too severe.”
He hugged me tighter.
My body shook. Or perhaps his body did? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was I shouldn’t have been in the arms of this man, who wrapped me inside the safety of his guarding posture. Shielded. Sheltered.
“I’m sorry this happened to you.” His words vibrated against my face, which remained molded against his neck, and his breath turned shallow and paced.
I took in his masculine scent, earthy, mixed with the sweetness of his fresh sweat, and let my lips trail across his skin. Not because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t help myself. Neither could I help myself when I kissed him, right there above the side of his collarbone.
