Page 2 of Brood (After the End #5)

Bella runs over and kneels on the other side of Vanessa, but there’s nothing else we can do. I’m still working on the chest compressions when the medics arrive. I back away to watch them work.

In another minute, someone else runs into the kitchen, pushing me out of the way to get to Vanessa.

It’s the chief of facilities, Vanessa’s spouse. His name is Will. I’ve never said a word to him, but I’ve known who he is for most of my life. He doesn’t talk a lot, but when he does, people listen.

He crouches and reaches for one of her hands. He’s got thick, unruly dark hair and an equally rumpled beard that’s got a lot of premature gray in it. His expression is as stoic as normal, but I can sense emotion shuddering beneath the surface.

He’s scared.

And he should be.

Vanessa is having a heart attack. It’s been a long time since anyone has survived one.

* * *

When I return to the kitchen at four for my short afternoon shift, I hear the news.

Vanessa died.

I’m not surprised, but I’m upset. It makes me want to cry even though I was never particularly attached to her.

She was older. I never worked with her closely until recently, and she was my supervisor.

But I liked her. I enjoyed working for her, and earlier today she told me my protein sandwich was the best she ever tasted.

She shouldn’t have died like that.

My good mood from the morning has transformed into a bleak heaviness. Barbara, the coordinator of morale, would tell me that’s why I need to learn how to stabilize my mood. Highs will always lead to these kinds of lows, and those lows will affect my work and my behavior.

I’ve never been able to take her advice.

Sometimes life is good, and sometimes it’s terrible.

How can I not feel it?

I’m quieter than normal as I tweak the stew recipe for dinner, but everyone else in the kitchen is quiet too. After my shift is over and I’ve eaten, I’m ready to head back to my quarters and go to bed early, but a messenger is waiting to tell me that the Council of Chiefs wants to meet with me.

With me.

The only time I’ve ever met with them was when I completed my final internship and was posted in the kitchen crew, and that was merely a brief, standard interview to usher me into worker status.

My stomach is a tense ball of nerves as I follow the messenger to the council room and walk in.

There are sixteen council chiefs seated around a horseshoe-shaped table. Chief Rosamund—a slim, attractive woman with salt-and-pepper hair and brown skin—is chair and has the central seat. She’s almost sixty, one of the oldest people in the Refuge.

“Come in, Cadence. No need to lurk in the doorway.”

I didn’t realize I was lurking. Obediently, I move closer to the table. There’s no empty chair in the room, so I stand awkwardly, trying very hard to hide my trembling.

“It’s okay,” Chief Rosamund says. “You’re not in trouble.”

I let out a breath, although I couldn’t think of a single rule I might have broken to warrant being called in like this. I don’t know what to say, so I clasp my hands behind my back and wait.

“We understand you’ll be twenty-one on Friday and are preparing for a spousal ceremony.”

That’s a strange way to put it, but I don’t have a chance to process her choice of articles. “Yes. With Danny.”

She glances down at her tablet as if she’s reviewing information presented there. “Your physical exams have been promising. Your hormones and egg production are better than we usually see anymore.”

My nerves break with a flicker of pleasure. “I hope so. I’m ready to have as many babies as I’m allowed.”

“You’ll be allowed as many as your body can handle. Our numbers get fewer every year. That’s why it’s essential to make the absolute best spousal matches—to give us every chance of replenishing our population and perpetuating the human race without dangerous mutations.”

“Of course. Danny and I were tested, and our genes were approved as a match.”

There were only two thousand people in the Refuge when the bunker doors were locked two hundred years ago to escape the ravages of the War.

The initiative was funded by a wealthy, forward-thinking, and altruistic recluse committed to the survival of the human race.

They say only the smartest and healthiest candidates were chosen by the original council to give us the best chance of thriving down here.

The two thousand were split between two levels. That should have been a large enough population for genetic variety, but that first generation was able to produce very few babies. So numbers declined quickly.

For the first hundred years, the council didn’t supervise marriage and breeding, but people too closely related started pairing up, so it eventually became necessary to assert more control over the process to preserve the quality of our genes and produce the healthiest babies.

“We’ve already seen far too many aberrations. Your hair, for instance.”

Fighting a surge of defensiveness, I raise a hand to touch my long, loose braid.

My eyes, eyelashes, and eyebrows are brown like most of the others my age, and my skin is a rosy beige, but my hair is white.

It’s not platinum blond like we’ll occasionally see.

It’s fully, undeniably white. It’s been that color since birth.

It’s always bothered me to be so different from everyone else, but I’ve mostly grown used to it now. Danny has always said he doesn’t mind that it’s such a strange color.

“I understand.” I still have no idea why she’s rehashing a situation that’s been obvious my entire life.

“Your match with Danny is tolerable, but we’ll always choose the best genetic pairings available.”

I stare at her, my churning nerves clenching into a heavy knot.

“And there is now a better available match for you.”

The room blurs around me. I twist my hands together more tightly.

This is happening. They’re not going to let me marry Danny as has been intended all our lives. They’ve found someone else for me.

Three days from my twenty-first birthday.

“Wh-who is available?” I manage to ask into the tense silence.

Chief Rosamund’s eyes slide to her right. The eyes of the other chiefs all shift in the same direction.

Toward Chief Will.

Chief Will.

Who is seated motionless, as hard and unrevealing as the statues we studied in our classics unit.

“But…” It feels like I’m strangling on the shock. “But Vanessa just…she died this morning!” I liked her. I’m already missing her. Her death should matter more than this.

“Yes.” This time, it’s Chief Brody speaking. He’s in charge of Security. A tall, silver-haired man with dead eyes and an icy voice. “It was a tragedy. Despite the fact that she was never able to produce offspring, she will be missed.”

The words make me want to clench my fists, but I resist the defensiveness. Brody’s spouse died last year, but as a couple, they managed to have three babies—more than anyone else currently alive. Maybe he knows what he’s talking about.

He continues: “But we’re talking about our survival. We can’t indulge in mourning periods. Your genes are an ideal match for Chief Will’s, and you’ll be of age on Friday.”

Chief Rosamund nods.

I search the faces at the table for an expression of sympathy or reluctance, and there are none. None. They’re in agreement on this. And they don’t care that I’ve spent years expecting and dreaming of Danny as my spouse.

My gaze lands on Chief Will’s face. He’s looking at me, but it’s still impossible to read what he’s thinking.

His jaw looks tense beneath his thick beard, and his posture is stiffly upright.

But he’s always been cold and uptight, so those clues provide no insight into his state of mind.

He meets my gaze and holds it unwaveringly.

It’s a long time—too long—before I can wrench my eyes away from his to look back at Chief Rosamund. “What about Danny?”

“We will speak with him. We’ve found him another good match on Level Two. Tara will be of age in five months, so he won’t have long to wait.”

“Level Two?” I cough to clear my throat. “Will he move, then?”

“That hasn’t been decided yet. She might move up here with us. But that’s not the issue today. We need your agreement to marry Chief Will so we can proceed with plans for Friday.”

“So he…” I shoot another quick look at the man’s impenetrable expression. “He wants to…”

His spouse died ten hours ago.

“He has agreed. We need your agreement as well.”

I know exactly what will happen if I don’t agree.

I’ll be labeled uncooperative. I’ll lose my advanced position on the kitchen crew.

I’ll no longer receive special privileges.

The good name and reputation I’ve made for myself for working hard, following the rules, and behaving with sense and sobriety will be irrevocably tarnished.

I can’t do it.

I won’t.

“I agree.” It doesn’t sound like my voice, although the words come out of my throat.

“Excellent.” Chief Rosamund smiles at me. The other chiefs nod or murmur approvingly.

I’ve done the right thing. There’s no reason for me to feel sick.

Chief Will still hasn’t smiled. Hasn’t shifted his position. Hasn’t blinked.

I can’t tell if he’s angry or sad or excited or utterly bored with these proceedings. I’ve always known exactly what Danny is thinking, but Chief Will is reinforced concrete. Stark, unknowable, and unrelenting.

“We will miss Vanessa, of course, but we’re all pleased this has worked out. We have no doubt you’ll be productive as spouses.”

I have no idea what to say. I nod.

“Thank you, Cadence. You’re dismissed.”

I blink, then look at Chief Will, but he’s still doing nothing but staring at me. Flustered and confused and too upset to wrap my mind around what’s happening, I nod again.

Before I walk out of the room, I manage a mumbled “thank you.”

Thank you.

For doing this to me.

For forcing me to marry an unpleasant man who’s basically a stranger.

For completely blowing up the rest of my life.

* * *