The next day over breakfast I ask my sister to accompany me to our childhood home to pick up some odds and ends.
“Why? You can send someone to get what you need, or you can order it new.” She’s eating her usual breakfast of grapes and yogurt smothered in honey, her face resting on her hand. She’s never been a morning person and this ritual of fruit and sourness is something she’s done since she was a child. It takes me back to those early days when we were still friends.
“I miss home,” I say. “Besides, I don’t want people rifling through my things, you know how people steal…” This is a sore spot for Sophia, who complains to my mother every week about her things mysteriously going missing. I know I’ve hit the jackpot when her eyes light up.
“All right,” she says slowly. “I guess I could grab some things too.” I smile at her as sweetly as I can, my cheeks aching from the effort. We leave with one of the governor’s escorts around noon. The air is humid, clinging. I fall into the backseat already needing a nap. That is what pregnancy is: napping, and eating, and throwing up. The house is a ten-minute drive from the Governor’s Mansion; I open my window so the air can blow on my face. For the first five minutes, neither Sophia nor I say a word to each other, both staring out of our respective windows.
“I heard that Langley didn’t get pregnant.”
Her head swivels around to look at me, and then she slowly looks away.
“You heard right.”
“She must be pissed that you’re pregnant and she’s not.” I look over at her this time and find her looking down at her stomach. She is carrying smaller than I am, probably due to the fact that she hardly eats. She stares at it like she’s never seen it before—an alien attached to her waist—and then reluctantly she shakes her head.
“She isn’t happy about it,” Sophia says. “She tried with Jackal too…a few years ago.” She chews on her lip like she’s said too much. I nod sympathetically.
“She’s not been as lucky as us. It’s no wonder she’s hanging around you all the time.”
Sophia shakes her head. “That’s not the reason Langley is always there.”
“No?”
“She’s to be Pandora’s chief administrator.”
Well, there you go, just a little bit of poking and I got my answer.
I look at Sophia in alarm. “What happened to Damaris? She’s served with Pandora both terms.” I can’t believe I haven’t even thought of her until now. Timid and unassuming, Damaris is always tucked behind Pandora like an extra appendage. Except I can’t remember the last time I saw her.
Sophia shrugs. “She got pregnant this season right behind us and didn’t want to continue working. She transferred to the Green Region.”
Another Folsom baby. I put my hand on my stomach and Sophia’s eyes follow.
“That’s really strange, don’t you think?”
Each season with an End Man, all the successful lottery pregnancies move out of the Region and we get an influx of the other Regions’ lottery pregnancies in an effort to prevent incest. It’s rare for anyone in a powerful position to move out of a Region, though, especially while pregnant. The Region wants to hold onto all the babies.
“It’s what he does, Gwen. You know that,” she snaps, done with this conversation.
“That’s not what I meant…” I shake my head and try to not outwardly shudder in front of her.
It’s hard to think of Folsom having sex with beautiful women—any women, really—but Damaris…it’s really hard to imagine him having sex with a woman who never looks quite clean and has long hairs hanging out of her moles. I cringe at my naiveté—I thought the men were just sex machines who were constantly turned on by the act of sex itself, no matter what the women were like. I remember my shock about the pills—the thought that they relied on pills had never crossed my mind. Hot and ready. That’s how I perceived the End Men. But that’s how we were taught to perceive men—the reason we are in this mess in the first place. For thousands of years, we were held beneath their thumbs and now we’re liberated from them, while also desperately needing them. So stupid.
I put it out of my mind. I can’t go down that train of thought today. Thoughts of Folsom and what he’s going through, how much I miss him, and humdrum thoughts about one useless topic after the next have derailed me for entire weeks at a time. My brain has been mush while I’ve been locked away. It’s time I pull out of this stupor. I can’t afford to waste any more time.
We pull into the long driveway, and just seeing our house ahead makes me feel more alive than I have in months. Phoebe answers the door and pulls me into a hug.
“I’ve missed you,” I tell her.
She holds my face in her hands and studies me like she’s checking to see how bruised my insides are.
“You look well,” she finally says. “I needed to see for myself. They’re saying all kinds of things, you know…” She cuts off when Sophia clears her throat.
The three of us go upstairs and they follow me to my room.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell them. “Where would I go? Can’t I have even a minute to myself?”
“I promised I’d not take my eyes off of you,” Sophia says.
My closet is inside of my bathroom. I pull a bag off a shelf and begin shoving things inside. Half of what I take wouldn’t fit anymore, but I’m not here for clothes. I pull several bras out and set it all in the bag. I move to the cosmetics and go so slowly that Sophia’s sighs get louder and louder. She plops down on the bed.
“Hurry up. God, you’re taking forever.”
“Feel free to go do something else,” I call over my shoulder.
She scowls, and to my shock, eventually stands up and moves to the door. She’s still wearing skintight dresses and from behind you can’t even tell she’s pregnant.
“We’re leaving in four minutes. I’m going to my bedroom for some shoes. If you do anything that gets me in trouble, I’ll make you suffer.”
I roll my eyes at her and turn back to the drawers.
The minute she’s out of the room I move to the mattress. My hand stretches so far under without feeling it that I begin to fear it’s been taken. Suddenly, my fingers touch the metal. I close my eyes for a second and instantly breathe easier. Tucking it under my shirt, I turn to Phoebe.
“They’re keeping me prisoner. I’m under constant surveillance, day and night.”
Her mouth drops open and she grasps my arm. “What can I do?”
“Tell the people who are with me that I’m being held against my will. Tell them Folsom is being harvested. Demand that I’m—” I hear Sophia at the door and pull away, holding up my bag. “Just a couple more things from the bathroom and I’ll be ready,” I tell her.
Phoebe hovers next to me, but I’m not able to say anything else. Sophia looks at us suspiciously but doesn’t speak either. We’re pulling out of there a few minutes later, and I try to enjoy the moment of freedom. I feel a small hope that hasn’t been there since Folsom went missing.
THIRTY
GWEN
A few mornings later, the sound of glass breaking wakes me up. I sit up and don’t see anything out of place, but there’s commotion in the library across the hall. Another shatter makes me jump and my mother comes through my door to make sure I’m okay.
“What’s going on?” I ask her, following her into the library. A window is broken, and a maid scurries into the room to clean up the shards of glass.
My mother doesn’t answer. She’s mostly stopped speaking to me; other than the customary “how are you?” and “did you sleep okay?” we aren’t diving into any real conversation. I walk to the next set of windows and see protestors lined against the gate, holding their signs high. The driveway isn’t as long as ours at home, so I can read most of the signs clearly.
Some are chanting, “Free Gwen, free Gwen, free Gwen!”
My mother grabs my arm and leads me back to my room. “Stay away from the window—you could get hurt!”
/>
“I’d rather be pelted with a rock than be a prisoner in this house one more day,” I respond.
“You know you’re not a prisoner here, Gwen…”
I turn and face her, hands on my hips. “Oh, I’m free to go then? Great, I’m leaving today.”
“When that baby is safely delivered, you can move out.” She smooths her hand down her skirt.
“I used to think you were doing all of this to give me the baby I’d always wanted…maybe even that you were with Pandora because of it…but I’m not so sure it hasn’t always been on your agenda to be exactly where you are right now. Maybe I was simply the pawn that helped you put the pieces in place. Sophia would’ve been glad to get you here, though. Never mind, I still don’t understand.”
Her lips press together and she shakes her head, moving toward the door. “Nonsense. Pandora mentioned it last night and I think it will be good for you: tonight we’ll go somewhere, get you out of the house for a little bit.”
“If I say no?” I’m merely testing her for sport at this point. Of course I’ll go anywhere just to be outside these four walls.
“You won’t,” she says, shutting the door behind her. She leans back in. “Oh, and your doctor’s appointment is in an hour. You should eat something before she gets here.”
Each appointment I’ve seen a different doctor, mostly doctors I’ve never met, but occasionally one I’ve seen through Genome Y, so I’m caught off guard when I walk into the living room and Doctor Hunley is admiring a piece of artwork with Pandora and my mother. She says hello but barely acknowledges me other than that. They talk about the colors a few more minutes and then she turns to me.
“We better get started. I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of time. I have another house visit after this,” she says with a smile. “Was the machine delivered?”
“It’s been taken to Gwen’s room,” my mother says.
“Excellent. Lead the way, Gwen.” Doctor Hunley motions me forward.
I take her to my room and am about to close the door when my mother steps forward to come in too. Doctor Hunley holds up her hand.
“I’ll have you step in when I’m ready for the ultrasound.” She says it with such authority that my mom backs up and nods.
Once the door is closed, Doctor Hunley takes my hand. “We don’t have much time. I have a plan. How are you really?” she asks urgently.
“Sick with worry,” I whisper. “Have you heard anything?”
“Get undressed and follow my lead. Okay?”
I quickly undress and slip on the gown she hands me while she keeps talking under her breath.
“I’ve heard a few things. Just this week, one of my colleagues flew in from Canada and I think if anyone knows, it would be her. I’ll arrange a meeting with her. The Regions are fighting back, Gwen. Someone posted about you being kept here against your will and everyone is talking about it. A few of the vigilantes from the Black and Red Regions are talking about breaking you and Laticus out, if something doesn’t change quickly. If Governor Petite knows what’s good for her, she will release you. Or risk being overthrown.” She grimaces. “She’s not doing it fast enough for my liking.”
I stare at her and hurry to lie down where she’s tapping on the bed. My hands tremble as I pull the covers.
“Okay, we’re ready,” she calls out to my mother.
She gives me one more glance and pats my hand reassuringly before my mother steps in.
Mother stands where she can watch the screen along with me. Doctor Hunley turns the machine on and makes sure her tools are in order. Once she’s ready, she looks at us and pulls the plastic gloves higher on her arm.
“You’d think technology would’ve advanced beyond this cold liquid…brace yourself,” Doctor Hunley says, getting the wand in place.
As soon as the baby fills the screen, she starts taking pictures and logging things into her Silverbook. I stare at the baby and listen to the sound of our heartbeats. This will never get old.
“Hmm…this is…troubling.” She frowns. “Are all your dates accurate?” She points to the screen and I nod, swallowing. Her concern is scaring me. I can’t tell if she’s pretending or if something really is wrong.
“The baby is not measuring what he should be for how far along you are, and I don’t want to alarm you, but we need to do some tests right away,” she says. She looks at my mother. “Can you make sure she comes in to see me this week?”
“Surely that’s not necessary!” My mom looks at the screen. “Does the baby look healthy? Why does it matter if the measurements aren’t quite matching up?”
Doctor Hunley shoots her a sharp look. “It could mean the baby has some health defects or that Gwen’s not getting the nourishment she should be getting.” She shakes her head. “You know what, no later than the day after tomorrow.” She looks at me. “Eight o’clock on Friday morning, yes?”
“I-yes,” I whisper.
“I assure you, we will keep a close eye on you,” she says.
My mom and I stare at each other, and I start to cry.
“What if something is wrong with my baby?” The tears pour down my face. I don’t know what’s happening right now, but the thought that something could go wrong with my pregnancy is a fear I face daily.
“Just let me clear this appointment with Pandora,” Mother says, clutching her handkerchief. She moves to the door.
In that moment I realize my mother is not who I thought she was. I wonder if she ever was.
The chants of the picketers down the street fill the air and I cry harder.
“I should’ve brought one of my more advanced machines.” Doctor Hunley holds my hand and pats it. “Try to be calm. We’ll find out more during our next visit.”
My mother runs out of the bedroom door and Doctor Hunley and I don’t speak at first. I think we’re both in shock over my mother’s reaction.
“Anything else I can do before Friday?” she asks.
“See that stack of books? The one on the bottom, flip open to the back and scan my notes…post it to every news outlet…please.”
She hurries to the desk and does what I’ve asked, moving back to me quickly when she hears Mother coming back.
“Pandora prefers that you come here.”
“Fine. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow,” Doctor Hunley replies, looking at me.
“Should we keep her on bed rest until then?” Mother asks.
“Feed this girl whatever she wants and get her in the sunshine. She’s as pale as a ghost. The vitamin D will do her good until we can run more tests. I’d like to draw blood…the needles didn’t get delivered with the machine, I noticed?” Doctor Hunley’s raised brow is very intimidating. If I hadn’t gotten to know her through caring for Folsom, I’d be terrified right now.
Mother stutters and makes an excuse to leave the room again.
I hear her telling Pandora about the appointment later that evening and Pandora tells her we’ll get a second opinion. Mother doesn’t say anything, but I hear her laughing about something a few minutes later.
The tears are legitimate. My mother’s rejection will be something I carry the rest of my life.
The big “outing” Pandora has planned doesn’t happen until the next morning and involves me walking on the front lawn and waving to the growing mass of people. I feel ridiculous, a growing clown on display. I haven’t had a haircut since before I met Folsom and my hair is out of control. I don’t like my clothes. The boots he made me are starting to feel tight. And I can’t just go shopping for whatever I need…the seclusion is getting to me.
It does feel good to be outside. I step closer to the gate and Pandora puts her arm on mine.
“No, no, we’re not talking to them. If you’re going to be part of my family, you need to remember your place.” She grins, gripping my arm until her knuckles turn white.
“Get your hands off of me, Pandora.” I scowl at her and she grips me harder. “Let go and I won’t scream for help.”
>
“Where do you get your fire, little Gwen? Certainly not from your mother. She is so easy to keep under my thumb.” Pandora smiles and waves and ignores some of the boos from the people. “It will be fun taming you.” She turns and the gleam in her eyes is terrifying. “Okay, that should be long enough to satisfy them that you’re alive and well.”
I really don’t expect to be allowed to see the doctor, but she is even bolder than I knew and shows up Friday and every few days after that with her equipment to do scans of the baby. With her comes news of what she calls the Rise of the Women, whispered in my ear as my mother waits outside the room.
“It’s in every Region, Gwen,” she tells me. “People are stirring and speaking out. A woman was arrested last week for starting a fire in the Blue Region on their governor’s front lawn.”
“Folsom…?” The same question I ask with every visit.
It gets the same answer. She shakes her head, unable to meet my eyes. “We’re looking for him. But we have little resources, few options.”
I nod. I know this, but every minute of every day I’m plagued with thoughts of Folsom. Worried sick. Thoughts of him lying in bed after his heart attack, skin grey, looking weak—make it hard to breathe. If he died, would they tell us? The Regions would grieve…riot perhaps. The Society and President would be blamed. They’d keep his death a secret for as long as they could. I shake the thoughts from my mind. I can’t think about that. Folsom is stubborn…strong. He knows how to survive.
THIRTY-ONE
GWEN
Folsom’s tongue works its way down my neck, to the nipples he’s so fond of, down my stomach, dragging slowly, leisurely, to the spot that aches for him. I whimper and he…