Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The hospital had a peculiar smell - a combination of antiseptic, laundry and overcooked food. It took me back to the day we’d met Jesse, although the circumstances couldn’t be more different now. I was no longer an intruder, as proven by the laminated photo I.D. clipped to the front pocket of my purple cotton scrubs. But still I jumped whenever I ran into a member of staff - a doctor, a nurse, a cleaning attendant - and had to remind myself that I had every right to be here now. I had a reason to walk through the hospital doors, the job title of ‘VOLUNTEER’, spelt in capital letters under my name on my photo I.D. - and even my own proximity access card: a small rectangular piece of plastic that, if held near certain doors, gave me access to areas marked as ‘Authorized Personnel Only’. 

I hurried down the long wide corridor of the ward to which I had been assigned for the morning: ICU - Intensive Care Unit. The patients staying were seriously ill, but my job was actually pretty easy. I helped the nurses bathe and clean patients, change bed sheets, things like that. Although most of the times the people I was helping were barely aware of my presence, I found it rewarding to know that I could somehow help alleviate the discomfort of a fellow human being, even if it was by just wiping their mouth, or plumping up a pillow. I couldn’t make their pain go away, but I knew all too well how much better it felt to be clean, warm and dry after the weeks I’d spent living in a tent; and I’d never forget the sight of my own brother, strapped down to a bed, wet and dirty, deprived of any human dignity. Sometimes, if a patient was being demanding, or if a relative complained that their loved one wasn’t attended to quickly enough, I’d think to myself, you have no idea how lucky you are. Just as well that my years of working with tantrum-prone officers had taught me to hold my tongue. 

I checked the blue sign on the wall - ICU 3 - that was where my shift started.  Just as I was about to flick my ID at the proximity sensor, a nurse slowly appeared through the double doors, her attention focused on her cellphone. 

“Is it ok to go in now?” I asked, trying to get her attention, so that I could get past her.

“Oh, hi!” she said, looking up. “Of course, yes.” 

She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear with an awkward smile, but didn’t move.

“Thanks.”

“It’s..Taylor, right?” she said, pointing at my I.D.

“Um, yes.”

The nurse nodded expectantly.

“I’m…I’ve got my schedule here if you want to check?” I said, taking out the folded piece of paper from my pocket. 

“No, no, it’s ok, I’ve seen you before.” she said, still smiling.

“Oh - okay.” 

I didn’t remember seeing her but there were so many of them - nurses, mainly female - and they all looked pretty much the same to me, in their dark blue scrubs. Most wore their hair in a tight ponytail. All of them walked around with an air of authority that reminded me of the soldiers we’d seen upon our arrival in the City. “You want to keep on the good side of the nurses”, Jesse had warned me on my first day. “They run the place.”

“So, is it ok if I go in now?” I said, awkwardly.

“Sure.” the nurse sighed. Her smile had gone. “Make sure you report to the nurses’ station when you’re done.” she said, and hurried off. 

Was I supposed to say something?

I had nagging feeling that I had done something wrong but it was hard to tell with the nursing staff. They largely ignored me, especially when I was wearing my uniform - the purple of my scrubs clearly highlighting my status at the bottom of the hospital hierarchy. Purple for volunteers, unpaid and therefore lower than the cleaning staff, whose uniforms were a very bright shade of pink. 

I didn’t mind my low rank - I was used to taking orders; the army-like structure of the Flock had been good training. I knew how to blend in and respect my superiors, and through years of processing I had learned how to give the appearance of a respectful, obedient ‘soldier’. 

The main difference was that the orders my superiors gave me at the hospital actually made sense. What I was doing was useful - it meant something. Even if I wasn’t getting paid, I enjoyed getting up in the morning with a clear purpose, knowing that my actions for the day would have a clear, immediate result, and that I was doing some good.

I volunteered two or three times a week, working around Jesse’s shifts so that I could get a ride to the hospital with him. I did whatever jobs I was given by the nurses - help patients wash themselves, serve meals, empty bedpans. I didn’t mind getting my hands dirty. It was better than whatever I had done before at the clubhouse, and I for the first time in my life, I felt that it was the actual work I did that, for a change, mattered. Not the end result, the tokens or the money that I’d received in exchange, and that had undeniably served a purpose.

It had only just occurred to me.

I’m doing this for myself.

Only a few weeks had passed since we’d got back to the City, exhausted from the long journey and unsettled by the turn of events that had forced us to abandon our search. We were all on edge, except for Zac, who had blissfully slept through most of the long drive home, waking up only for food and bathroom breaks. And once we were through our front door, he’d headed straight for our bedroom, picked up his guitar and started practising. As far as he was concerned, the search was over.

Someone else shared his view - Detective Weathers.

The following day he called Jesse, and after stressing the fact that he was using a prepaid cellphone, Weathers told him that things had taken a strange turn and that he had been offered a transfer to a remote precinct in a lakeside county in the former state of Canada. It was a choice between the transfer or early retirement, and Weathers said he had opted for the former, his dream of spending weekends fishing by a lake too hard to resist. Before hanging up, he’d warned Jesse to be careful. 

We spent several evenings talking through what had happened in San Diego, and Weather’s ominous warning. Nothing made much sense - someone had tried to put obstacles in front of us, stopping us in our tracks, that much was clear - but we couldn’t understand their motives. Why would anyone have any interest in us, what kind of threat could we represent in our current state to any CANAAN citizen, or institution? We had no money, no power, no connections. It made absolutely no sense. 

 We went through every possible theory that we could conjure, each one more unlikely than the previous. Eventually, we agreed on what seemed to be the most logical explanation: perhaps the CoR was trying to prevent us from reconnecting with what was left of our family. It could have been arranged by our mother, who was married to one of the highest ranking officers in the Compound, and no doubt had privileges that would allow her to reach out for contacts on the Outside.

She would have known that we had nobody out here, and that we might have tried to find our father. Maybe this was one last attempt to close all possible avenues for us to survive out here; maybe she thought this was a way to entice us back in. We talked and argued about it, night after night, until we exhausted every theory and every option. Letting go of him - of the idea of him -was hard -  especially since we had been so close, a click away from a sample of those very cells that made up our skin and bones, the genetic code that mapped every tiniest particle of our bodies.

But there was also another valid reason to quit the search: Jesse. He had a lot more to lose than we had, and although he never said it openly, I could tell that he was worried. The last thing I wanted was to be the cause of even more trouble - not after all he had done for us. He was our only friend, and the three of us all agreed that he mattered more than the remote possibility of meeting a father that, by now might not even want to know us.

So we abandoned our search, and all that there was left for us to do was to learn to live like Outsiders.

It had been Jesse’s idea to find me some voluntary work at the hospital. I’d asked him what qualifications were needed to become a nurse or a paramedic. I’d had no proper schooling outside the Compound classroom, so nursing school was as distant a dream for me as becoming the next president of CANAAN.  Jesse didn’t think the idea was completely impossible, and promised he’d find out about programmes that could get me a diploma of some sort, a qualification, by doing a job and studying at the same time. He suggested I volunteered a couple of times a week to get some experience to put on my resume - another important piece of paper that, unsurprisingly, my brothers and I didn’t have. I’d had plenty of work experience - my Club House job  entailed a lot more than just entertaining officers. Jesse, however, said that it was better to leave it out; “Hospitality Manager for in-house brothel with religious cult is not really going to help you get a job, Tay” he’d pointed out. I knew he was probably right, but it was disheartening to think that my life at the Compound didn’t count - as if, until now, I had never existed. 

It was hard to stay positive, to have hope that one day we could fit in. When Jesse told me that he’d got me an interview with the hospital volunteers co-ordinator, I was thrilled. “You do realise that you won’t get paid for it?” he’d said, surprised and amused at my reaction.

I didn’t care. All I wanted was to feel useful, and now that we were safe and Zac was healthy, there was nothing for me to do all day apart from keeping the apartment clean and tidy and taking care of the cooking. I did it because I wanted to, not because Jesse expected it - he’d said more than once that he would have hired a cleaner if he’d wanted one -  but I was the least I could do to give something back. And besides, I would have to earn a living, at some point. I’d spent all my life taking care of Zac and supporting my brothers, and I wasn’t used to depending on other people. That, however, seemed impossible in our current situation. “Let’s wait to see what happens after the elections” Jesse had reassured me. “If President Leclerc doesn’t get re-elected, the new one might abolish the quotas. It might become easier for you guys to get jobs. In the meantime, some work experience at the hospital would be a start.”

The elections were only a couple of weeks away when I first walked through the hospital doors alongside Jesse, ready to start my new job. This time I wasn’t a fugitive, a displaced person, or even a patient. Looking down at the laminated photo badge clipped to my uniform, for the first time since I could remember, I felt pride.

I’d been busy all morning, starting with bathing patients in ICU,  then over to a different ward to help with meals. Some patients were so sick and frail that reverted to behaving like helpless babies, and needed help with cutting their food or dipping a spoon in the bowl of whatever gloopy substance they were trying to eat. So I’d pick up their fork and stab one of the pieces I’d just cut for them, or scoop a small amount of food on a spoon, and then I’d hand it to them, wrapping the patient’s fingers around it if necessary, steadying their hand with mine as they tentatively took a bite. 

It must be mortifying to lose your independence to the point where the simple act of bringing food to your mouth is no longer possible. That’s why I tried to give the people I was there to help a chance to do something for themselves. It took a lot longer to get through mealtimes and my supervisor wasn’t too pleased, but once the patient had taken charge of his of her own spoon, and was all intent in polishing off their meal unassisted, there was nothing anyone could do to stop them.

It was different with the elderly. Sometimes they’d drop the cutlery onto the plate after a couple of attempts and give up. Today was no exception.

“You do it, sweetheart.” the woman said, leaning back on the high tower of pillows that propped her up. She couldn’t have weighed more than 90 lbs, and the hospital-issued bracelet was loose around her wrist.

I picked up the fork and leaned in closer.

“Are you sure? Because I’ll probably end up eating it myself.” I joked, pointing at the rather unappetising meal on the plastic tray. 

“You can’t be that desperate” she laughed.

The elderly woman was right. I wasn’t that desperate - not anymore. However, many of the patients were. Some would do anything to get admitted into hospital in the hope of a hot meal and a bed for the night. I could relate to that; only a few months before I’d been in that position, and I knew that back then I would have done the same, or worse, to get my hands on the grey piece of chicken and congealed vegetables sitting defiantly on the plastic tray in front of me. I shuddered, and tried to force the thought away, but it wasn’t easy. They were everywhere - the displaced. Young, mostly male, people like me and my brothers who had not been as lucky as us. They sat in the waiting areas, taking up every free chair and bench in every corridor and in every hallway, looking up with a tinge of hope whenever a member of staff walked by, waiting to be called. Waiting for a stranger to help.

After finishing meal duties, I went to collect my things from the volunteers’ staff room. I put my key into the locker and a coin clanged into the plastic receptacle that was built into the metal door. There were a lot of volunteers coming and going all the time, and our lockers had to be emptied it at the end of our shifts. Permanent staff had their own storage space, which needed no coin and even had their own small padlocks. As a doctor, Jesse could leave toiletries and a change of clothes at the hospital, and didn’t have to empty his locker when he left. Already I wondered if one day I’d have one too - another small slice of something permanent, somewhere that I didn’t have to vacate at the end of every working day. Jesse had taped photos to the inside door of his locker - snaps of him with people I didn’t recognise, pictures of Australia. One showed Jesse on a beach, wetsuit rolled down to his waist, the empty sleeves sticking out floppily by his hips. He looked so different with a surfboard tucked under his arm, squinting in the sun; he looked so young and carefree, so unlike the professional, committed doctor his patients saw every day.  It fascinated me to think that a camera could capture someone’s true essence in just a split second, and at the same time, it was a stark reminder that I didn’t have any photos of me and my brothers, of our mother, of our home at the Compound. Photography was only allowed for official CoR occasions, and I had never held a camera in my hands, let alone used one.  

Maybe our mother had some old photos from before we moved there, but I didn’t recall seemeding any. It wasn’t something I had ever given much thought to, but now that our past seemed so firmly behind us, I wished I had some permanent memories of it - of our childhood, of us three kicking a makeshift football in the dirt courtyard that had been our secret playground between lessons.

I wished I had a physical reminder of what we’d looked like, back then - of the self-contained little family we had become. And where my memory couldn’t help, I wished I had something to fill the blanks - a photo of Zac as an infant, of the trailer that Isaac had described, with the beaded curtain and the fake plastic Christmas tree.

I’ll ask Jesse to take some photos of us - I thought, as I took out my belongings from the locker and closed it again, leaving the key in the lock. I had a jacket; a wallet, with my official CANAAN i.d, some money, and a cellphone, which Jesse had insisted I started to carry around with me whenever I went out. He’d bought one for Isaac too, and had programmed all our numbers on single keys, so that even Zac could use it in an emergency. I wondered what kind of emergency Jesse was worrying about but I didn’t really want to question it too much. 

Everybody had cellphones at the hospital - the nurses were always glued to the small shiny screens, tapping things into them, laughing to themselves. Mine was a basic model, which I could use to make calls and send text messages. Jesse had showed me how to do it, so that I could reply to his messages - he texted me all the time, telling me funny things that his patients had done, or simply just to let me know how his day was going. Sometimes, he’d just text to say he was bored, although that tended to happen more when he was at the hospital on his own during a night shift and there were no emergencies. Only a couple of days before, he’d sent me a message in the middle of the night. 

“Nothing happening here. Going to chat to a comatose patient in ICU to kill some time.”

I’d laughed to myself, obviously not quietly enough as Zac stirred beside me, mumbling something in protest, then promptly falling asleep again before I could apologise. I put the phone on silent, leaving it on in case Jesse messaged me again.

 As I made my way to the E.R.’s cafeteria, where I was going to wait for Jesse to come off his shift, I couldn’t avoid walking through the main waiting room, which was really just a large hallway facing the main reception desk. The smell of sweat and unwashed bodies hit me before I had made it through the doors. I was getting used to bad smells in the hospital but this was different: it was the smell of the displaced, of the body heat of too many people in a packed mess tent at meal times. It was the smell of Blue City.

The second the the soupy, nauseating stench hit my nostrils, I was back at the camp. It was a smell that lingered in my memories more than any other, and sometimes I’d get phantom wafts of it, at random moments - in the middle of making dinner, or when I helped a patient get dressed. When I held Zac close to me before going to sleep.

Why is it that the memories you want to forget are the most stubborn, clinging to whatever recess of your mind they latched on to, always read to pounce on you, to ambush you when you least expect it. Memories I’d really like to forget. Shame, pain. 

I held my breath as I crossed the hallway, trying hard not to make eye contact with anybody - partly as I was worried that someone might recognise me from the camp but also because I felt guilty for having somehow managed to escape that fate. 

At least until now. 

We were still hanging from a thread, dependant on Jesse’s goodwill and knowing that it could just all end tomorrow. Every morning I’d wake up wondering why we were so lucky, what made us so special to deserve someone a friend like him, who just helped us without asking for anything back. It made no sense, and the longer I worked in the hospital, the more I asked myself why - it was obvious that nobody ever did something for nothing. The nurses got paid, the doctors got paid even more. Even the unpaid volunteers, like me, had something to gain: some wanted some experience in the hope to get a proper job down the line; some were on government training schemes, or were doing community service after breaking the law for minor offences. And even I, if I was honest with myself, was there because I needed to feel needed.

The fact that Jesse was giving food and shelter to three guys he was not related to, who would probably never be in a position to return a favour, let alone pay him back, sometimes seemed too good to be true. Unless - unless he got something out of it too, the question being, what?

I was glad to eventually retreat to the ER cafeteria and its lingering, comforting cooking smell, the product of the many different meals that were served round the clock to staff and patients. Sitting under the heated lamps along the counter were the day’s choices - scrambled eggs, sausages, some kind of pasta and meat dish. Salad, fries, boiled eggs. Cheesecake, chocolate mousse, fruit salad. Yoghurt in three flavours: strawberry, vanilla and plain. I found myself running through all the possible choices, eventually settling for just a coffee. I wasn’t hungry, and I didn’t want to spend money on food just because it was there.

Paying for things with actual money was still a novelty; having to pay for meals was even stranger. At the Compound we could buy food with tokens, but one meal a day was always provided. So this is the price to pay for freedom, I thought. You have to fend for yourself. Without money, I couldn’t see how anyone would survive on the Outside for more than a few weeks. It’s not as if one could just …hunt or fish, or pick fruit from trees. Under the appearance - or illusion - of freedom, there was an even bigger, more complex set of rules than what we had grown up with: you had to have identification, a social security number, a job to have money to buy food from supermarkets. There seemed to be little margin for failure; but maybe the prospect of ending up on the streets with the Displaced was enough motivation for an Outsider to abide by all those rules. 

Still. We’re better off here than at the Compound. No doubt about that.  

I headed for an empty table in a corner of the cafeteria and sat there waiting. It was my favourite table, with a view on the hospital car park through the glass floor-to-ceiling window that made up a whole side of the cafeteria; from there, I could see the large, film-thin TV screen that looked almost painted on the opposite wall. There were several TVs in the cafeteria, all set to the same news channel, all with the sound turned to ‘mute’ and the subtitles running across the bottom of the screen.

I enjoyed watching the news, something which amused Jesse and which prompted him to call me a ‘news junkie’. I wondered how could anyone not be interested in what was going on in the world, though. The news channels ran 24 hours a day, with non-stop bulletins on events that were happening right in that moment not just in CANAAN, but also abroad. Sometimes they even talked about Australia, and when that happened, I’d make a mental note of what was being said, or, if we were at home, I’d call Jesse over to watch.  He’d humour me, although he never really seemed to care much for what happened in his country. I couldn’t understand why. In his position, I would have wanted to know as much as I could.

A headline flashed across the screen:

PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE CHARLTON McALLISTER  RIDES NEW WAVE OF POPULARITY AS POLL NUMBERS SURGE

I felt a certain satisfaction in knowing who the candidate was; clearly my interest in current affairs was beginning to pay off. Although, I had to admit, the candidate’s face was actually plastered all over the City by now, so much so that Charlton McCallister looked almost familiar. Isaac insisted that he reminded him of someone from the Compound, which in my opinion showed just how effective the presidential campaign was. Thanks to his unstoppable publicity machine, by now I felt as if I didn’t just know Charlton McAllister, CANAAN presidential candidate, but also his press secretary, his campaign manager, even his wife and daughter, who often appeared at his side during photo opportunities, shaking hands, clapping enthusiastically at the end of his speeches. Mother and daughter looked remarkably alike, with the same blue eyes and the same immaculately styled blonde hair, which the daughter - whose name was Marcia - wore a bit longer than her mother’s; they flashed identical smiles that revealed perfect white teeth. 

I was hooked on all the excitement and media buzz of the presidential race. One night, when my brothers had gone to bed and Jesse was working, I stayed up to watch a televised debate between the two candidates. I couldn’t really tell the difference between McAllister’s policies and President Leclerc’s, save for the fact that the former pledged to remove the quotas as the first legislative move of his presidency. I thought that that could only be a good thing, although when I talked to Jesse about it, he said that it was too late, and that the quotas were not the only reason why things were so bad. It was all very complicated, which made me all the more determined to follow the news even more. I wanted to understand how the country was run, and my own ignorance frustrated me. There were plenty of ways to find out more -the TV, the daily newspapers that I could read on Jesse’s computer. I binged on it, trying to make sense of words and concepts that I knew nothing about, and inevitably, I’d end up feeling even more confused.

My cellphone buzzed, and the small screen lit up. It was a text from Jesse.

Almost done here unless someone else decides to get stabbed tonight. 

I tapped the screen with one finger, hunting for each key one by one, then hit ‘send’.

You could let somebody else patch them up for once?  

The screen lit up again:

Sure. Or I might let them bleed out.

I laughed to myself. Jesse hardly ever came off his shifts on time, as he didn’t like to hand a patient over to another doctor in the middle of treatment. I was used to having to wait for him by now, and came prepared - I always had a book in my bag, although, more often than not, I’d end up staring at the silent screen, captivated by the TV headlines and the bright yellow BREAKING NEWS banner scrolling at the bottom of the screen. 

I’d become engrossed in footage of a tornado that had devastated the former US state of Oklahoma, when Jesse appeared in front of me, his hands shoved inside his coat pockets. 

“Ready to go? Or you can stay here and watch TV if you like.” he said as if he didn’t care much either way. Jesse could say the funniest things and still keep a straight face. It threw me, initially, but I was used to it by now.

“Hi Jesse.” I glanced up, trying to think of a quick comeback. It was no use - humour was not my forte. I picked up my bag and took one last swig of my now lukewarm coffee.

 “I’m quite happy to go home.”

As I followed Jesse through the crowded waiting hall once again, I sensed the gaze of hungry, tired strangers follow me, and all of a sudden I felt exposed, as if all my thoughts and my past were flashing like headlines across invisible screens that everyone could read. I tried to suppress it but I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t shake the shame and guilt, for having been given a second chance. For not being one of them.  I’m sorry, I silently pleaded. I’m sorry.  

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Are you sure you boys don’t want anything else? Some more coffee? Another slice of pie?”

“We’re good, thank you” I said, as politely as I could. It was the fourth time that morning that Mrs Krasowski had come in to check on how the work was proceeding, offering coffee and home-made cherry pie. It wasn’t even yet lunchtime. “It was delicious, but I’m still full.” I apologised.

“Erm” Zac objected behind me. He was sitting crossed legged on the floor, guitar on his lap.

“What about you, sweetheart, would you like a bit more?” Mrs Krasowski said, latching on to my brother’s hesitation.

“Hmmm…. would that be ok?” Zac grinned, his cheeks reddening with the slightest tinge of embarrassment. He looked up at the woman, his chin tucked into his chest, until his gaze was firmly set somewhere roughly near her shoulder.

“Of course it is, honey, and would you like some ice cream with it too?” she said.

“Yes, please” was my brother’s prompt reply. We’d already had ice cream with the previous two helpings. Trust Zac to keep things consistent.

“And how about some coffee?” Mrs Krasowski asked, in a hopeful tone. 

“Hmmm…” Zac hesitated, cocking his head to one side slightly, obviously torn between the advantages of having a hot drink with his pie, and the not insignificant problem of not actually liking coffee very much.

“Hot chocolate? Would you like a hot chocolate instead?” Mrs Krasowski beamed, expectantly.

“Hot chocolate would be awesome.” 

“Right, I’ll be right back then!” she said. “And you definitely sure you don’t want anything else, sweetheart?” she added, turning to me. 

“No, honestly, I’m good, thank you Ma’am” I said, putting a hand in front of me as if to stop her from physically force-feeding me. 

As she hurried out of the room to get more pie for Zac, I stifled a laugh. I wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose, but my brother was systematically winning over the hearts and minds of all of our neighbours - especially female ones. I’d started to do odd jobs around the building after helping an elderly lady from the third floor whom I had bumped into on the stairs. She had mentioned a curtain rail that had collapsed and needed fixing, and I’d offered to help. It was an easy job, and I hadn’t even thought of asking for payment, but before I left, she’d insisted on giving me some money. I’d tried to refuse it, but she wouldn’t have any of it. 

“Nonsense. If you don’t need it, maybe you can buy something for your brother” she’d said, referring to Zac, who had sat there waiting for me while I worked. Over time, other tenants had begun to call on me whenever anything needed doing in their apartments - anything from putting up shelves to replacing a leaking tap.  I was glad to keep busy, not to mention being able to earn some money of my own. But I suspected that it wasn’t just my handyman skills that had made us so popular with the other tenants in the apartment block. They loved Zac. Especially women. They’d find any excuse to hover around him as I worked - offering food that he never refused, asking about his health, his eyesight, about our past. Zac had a knack for deflecting their questions without ever coming across as rude; he smiled a lot and filled his mouth with endless slices of pie, sandwiches, plates of cookies, bowls of ice cream. I didn’t understand why women had this irresistible urge to feed him - he had certainly packed a few pounds in the last few months, and was no longer the skinny, malnourished waif that we had broken out of the Detox Center. But still, our female neighbours seemed to think that my brother’s blindness could be healed by means of copious amount of food, and Zac was perfectly happy to go along with that school of thought.

As for me, I was just grateful to be able to work and take my brother along with me. I hadn’t forgotten what things were like at the Compound - how little time we all had to spend together back then. I’d always been the first one to leave in the morning, and of course, Taylor worked until late at the Club House most nights. We always tried to sit together, if not for a proper meal, at least for a cup of CoR-issued purifying tea, but those moments had to be carved out of our structured, regimented life with utmost precision.

At night time, my brothers always had the luxury of spending a few private, intimate moments together, and if they were too exhausted, if Taylor had come home too nauseated from an officer’s demands, they could still fall asleep in each other’s arms. That’s how I’d find them at dawn: a tangle of legs and arms, their sleep undisturbed even by my brothers’ respective snoring, which they could no longer hear. It was the only time in the day when Taylor looked at peace. 

 I’d never had enough time with to spend with my brothers. I had responsibilities, a job and the father-like role that I had never chosen, but  which I had come to accept over the years. If I had never quite resented it, I can’t say that I enjoyed it, either. And now that we were able to be together as a family, there was nothing I wanted more than spending as much time with them as I possibly could. Things were perfect, or so they seemed to me, anyway.

“I can’t believe you’re still hungry” I said to my brother, as I picked up the paint roller from the plastic tray on the floor in front of me. 

“I’m not. But that cherry pie is really good.” 

“Yeah but…you don’t have to eat all of it.” I protested. Sometimes I struggled to follow my brother’s logic.

“Why not? Who knows when I’m going to get to eat another piece of cherry pie? We could be back on the streets again tomorrow, for all we know.” he shrugged.

I stopped with the paint roller mid-air. Zac’s statement sounded flippant, but it hit a nerve. He was right - who knew what was in store for us? I tried not to think about it too much, but I was painfully conscious of the fact that we were still wholly dependant on the kindness of someone who was still, fundamentally, a stranger. What if Jesse suddenly decided that he’d had enough of supporting us? It was unlikely, but it was certainly possible. It was a thought that often kept me awake at night, and in my sleepless hours I would rack my brain trying to come up with possible solutions to problems that had yet to arise. How much money we’d need to save as a safety net if we were homeless again; what kind of places I could turn to for a job. Most importantly, what kind of job could I do where I could take Zac with me? As usual, Zac was the focus of my worries, and of Taylor’s. We both knew that, if according to CANAAN’s standards we were almost useless in terms of paid employment, Zac was beyond redundant. There was no work for him, and very little help from the government, as Jesse had found out when he’d called the CANAAN Department of Work and Welfare on our behalf. In order to get even the lowest amount of state financial aid, Zac would have had to qualify under an astonishing array of rules and regulations and criteria that were obviously not planned around someone who had been outside of the state machine since birth. He didn’t stand a chance. 

I looked at him scoff a third slice of pie, oblivious to the fact that his words had felt like a punch in the stomach, and knew that I’d give anything - anything -  to take that sense of uncertainty away from my little brother, to tell him that there would be plenty of pie later, tomorrow, next week. That there would always be enough food and a warm place to sleep. That we would never be that desperate again. That we would always, always be safe.

“We’re going to be ok, Zac.” I said, in the most convincing tone I could muster.

He turned his face to one side, as if he could really see his fingers lift lightly and then effortlessly find their way back onto the fretboard, like a perfectly choreographed dance.

“Zac? We’re going to be ok.”

“Yeah.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Boy, this pie is good, I thought, scraping the last traces of pastry from the plate. 

“Zac: just accept it. It’s gone” Isaac said, laughing.

“Hmm.” I put the plate down on the floor. Then, on second thoughts, I picked up the spoon again and put it back in my mouth, and proceeded to give it one final, thorough lick. 

“You know, I’m sure Mrs Krasowski would be happy to give you one more slice if you ask her.”

I took the spoon out of my mouth. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I dropped it back on the plate. It made a sad, metallic sound. An empty sound.

“What’s so ridiculous about it? You’ve already had three pieces, she clearly likes feeding you.” Isaac said, his voice covering the soft wet sound of the roller he was using to paint the wall.

“If I ask her, I’ll look greedy. It’s ok, I can wait until lunch time.”

“Oh, so you expect to have lunch as well, do you?” 

“If she’s making us lunch, I’m planning to eat it, yes.” I picked up my guitar again and picked at the strings. I was doing a good job at memorising chords and the position of my fingers. It really wasn’t that hard. 

“What if she doesn’t offer us lunch?” Isaac insisted. Sometimes he really seemed to enjoy being difficult. When I was younger, that kind of thing used to get on my nerves. Now I knew that he wasn’t totally serious. And even if he was…these days I was inclined to forgive him pretty much anything. Who would have thought.

“So?” Isaac asked me again, determined to follow his pedantic line of questioning right to the end.

“So what?” I pretended not to follow.

“What if there’s no lunch on offer?”

“If that’s the case, we just go downstairs, open the door, go into the kitchen, and you make me lunch.” I said flatly.

“Right. I see, you’ve got it all planned.”

“Yeah.”

The soft wet sound of the paint roller stopped abruptly.

“And have you got any particular request in mind? As we’re discussing it?”

“Well, I guess if you’re cooking I’ll just have to make do with scrambled eggs or something. But that’s ok, Taylor will be home in time for dinner and then we’ll get a proper meal.” I lowered my head to let my hair cover my face, so that Isaac wouldn’t see me laugh. 

“I’m suddenly getting the urge to paint your face cornflour blue. Would you like that, Zac?” 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

I heard my brother take a couple of steps towards me, and I could tell from the the smell of paint that he was still armed with the roller. Maybe he was going to paint me cornflour blue, after all.

“Ike, don’t…” I tucked my head into my chest, preparing myself for the attack. “…you’re going to get it all over my guitar, Ike, please!” I pleaded. I felt my brother’s hand on my head, and then he laughed and ruffled my hair. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to waste any of this beautiful cornflour blue paint on your ugly mug, Zac.” he chuckled. I knew he didn’t mean any of that. When we were alone, he always told me I was beautiful. I wasn’t so sure - I hadn’t seen my own face for a long time now, and anyway, even from what I remembered, it was nothing special. I had a really wide mouth, really fat, oversized lips and a crooked nose. Taylor was, without a doubt, the best looking one of the three, and that had only been a source of trouble. If he hadn’t been pretty, maybe they wouldn’t have forced him to work at the Club House. 

He did it for me.

I tried to push the thought out of my mind. It was in the past now, and things were better, at least for now. Focus on the good things, I told myself. 

I ran my fingers along the guitar’s neck until I found the right place, and began to play one of the three songs I had managed to learn from beginning to end. It was useful to have something to play from memory - to distract myself. I had used the same method to get through the worst times at the Detox Center, when I had to tell myself to breathe in and out, in and out, and then eventually my lungs would follow the lullaby in my head, and oxygen would flow.

Playing a song was much easier, and a lot more fun.

We were lucky with this job - Mrs  Krasowski didn’t mind me playing while Isaac worked. She said it was nice to hear it in the background, although I did wonder if she could hear it at all, as her TV was always so loud. I’d started to take my guitar with me one time when we had some work to do in an empty apartment; then it had become a habit, and I’d just take it with me anyway, and asked if it was ok if I played, quietly. Most people didn’t mind, and Isaac had said that sometimes they’d peer in and just listen. It couldn’t be because I was very good, so I figured that they just found it interesting to see me play, knowing that I was blind. Isaac said that they probably found me cute. I guess they felt pity towards me. Whatever the reason, that was okay with me, as long as I was allowed to tag along with Isaac, and practice my guitar if I felt like it. Sometimes I wasn’t in the mood, and I’d just sit on the floor, and Isaac and I would talk - about the Compound, about the people we knew there whom we’d left behind. Since that time when I’d got the electric shock at the motel, Isaac had stopped trying to bring up the Detox Center and the stuff that had happened while I was in there. I knew that he’d listen to me, if I wanted to talk, but I really didn’t fancy going over that subject again. Things were good now. I was happy being out working with my brother - well, being allowed to sit there while he worked. Holding a cup of hot chocolate while Isaac painted walls and put up shelves and hung pictures. One could say I felt content. Once I even fell asleep when Isaac was laying down a new floor - and that had now become one of his favourite stories, one which he couldn’t stop telling Taylor and Jesse at any given opportunity. “And I thought he’d gone quiet, and then I turned round and he’d curled up on a roll of underlay and was fast asleep! He’d gone to sleep while I was nailing down floorboards!”

I wanted to say to him, I’d take the banging of a hammer on floorboards than the silence of a cell in a place where nobody can or will hear you. But if I said that, I knew my brother would lose whatever peace he’d found in recent weeks. He didn’t need to be reminded that there had been things he’d been powerless to stop and I was determined to spare him any more pain, if I could help it. For once I was enjoying the fact that I was making him happy - in more than one way. 

---

 

We were home long before Jesse and Taylor were back from the hospital. Isaac showered and then filled the bath for me, leaving me in there to soak while I listened to music. I’d tried to pull him into the tub with me, we had enough time and anyway, I knew Taylor didn’t mind, but Isaac broke away from my kiss and whispered something about later. I could wait - I knew by now that my brother didn’t like to rush things. And Taylor would be back soon. A warm flush spread through my whole body at the thought of both my brothers, with me. There was nothing I wanted more. Some nights, when the time was right - when Taylor wasn’t too tired from the hospital, or if my brothers had a drink or two, they swooped down on me like birds of prey, and shared my body between themselves like the spoils of a war they’d both won. Those moments were like nothing else I’d ever experienced before, and like nothing an Outsider could ever understand. There was nothing quite like being the one person my brothers had always wanted, their most prized possession, their reward and their trophy. The eye of their own inner storms which I knew would never stop raging. Did that made me wicked, to lie with my brothers and share their love? Did the shameless, unbridled desire I felt for them taint the pure, brotherly love that had nourished us steadily over the years? Was I giving in to compulsion when I pushed my brothers into each other’s arms, was I wrong to demand things of them, a kiss, a touch, whatever they would consent to, pushing their boundaries further and further every time, because I knew that whatever I asked for, sooner or later, I’d get? 

I wanted my brothers to get as close to each other as they were with me. To close the circle. To know everything that was left to know. I knew that one day, soon, it would happen, that it was only a matter of time. It was okay. I could wait.

Chapter Text

The chirping of crickets brought me out of my sleep and shook me from whatever dream I was lost in. I reached for the cellphone on the bedside table next to me and felt for the large button in the middle of the keypad. The chirping stopped.

Five more minutes, I thought.

I closed my eyes again, and let my mind drift. That doesn’t sound like real crickets. The sound of crickets on dry summer nights at the Compound was the last thing I used to hear before forcing myself to go to sleep. And now, an electronic imitation of their relentless chirp chirp was the first thing I heard in the mornings. A strange symmetry. With my eyes still shut, I inched a little closer to Zac. He was wrapped inside a roll of duvet, the way I’d find him most mornings, even if it wasn’t cold in the apartment; he liked to bury himself under the warm, soft, comfy bedding. I slowly untucked the flap of duvet from under his body and inched closer, until my chest was pressed against his back and my knees were wedged behind the back of his. I wrapped my arms around his chest and that’s when I felt him stir, although I’d been as gentle as I could. Those moments, minuscule fragments of time interspaced between waking up and starting our day, were so precious; I couldn’t get enough of them, and I felt that deep down I deserved them to make up for all the years I had been waking up on the pull-out couch on my own, getting up before my brothers did, trying not to look at their knotted, sleeping bodies while I got ready for work.

“Hmmmike.” my brother mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Good morning.” I said, burying my face in his hair. The back of his neck was warm and damp with sweat, and so was the rest of his body, I realised when I felt the fabric of my t-shirt cling to his. He always overheated through the night, and yet there was no telling him that, considering how he liked to cocoon himself inside the covers, maybe he didn’t need to wear anything in bed. But my brother liked to be covered up, and reaching for his clothes was the first thing he always did after we’d made love.

“Where’s Tay?”

“I think he left earlier with Jesse.” I had a vague recollection of Taylor coming into the bedroom to say goodbye - something he did, without fail, whenever he left early in the morning. He’d always quickly lean in to kiss whatever part of Zac emerged from the duvet, and then he’d squeeze my shoulder, or run his fingertips on my hair and say ‘see you later’.

“I don’t want to get up.” Zac groaned.

“We have to. We have a busy day ahead.” I didn’t really fancy getting out of bed either, especially not now, as I was sure that Zac was slowly shifting backwards, pressing himself against me. He knew all the tricks to weaken my resolve - that was for sure. He knew how to play me - and how to get his own way, and more often than not I was more than willing to let myself be manipulated by his unsubtle methods. Over the years, Taylor had built a resistance to our little brother’s ways, but it was all pretty new to me and saying ‘no’ required a level of self-control I no longer possessed  - not since leaving the teaching of the Shepherd behind. There were things Zac wanted - things he wanted to see happen between me and Taylor. That much was clear; he pushed us into each other’s arms whenever he had an opportunity to do so, whenever the three of us had an intimate moment. It was strange and awkward and I wasn’t sure that neither Taylor nor I enjoyed it all that much, but it wasn’t even up for discussion - we could only ever go along with his whims, because the unspoken agreement was that the one, sole purpose of our respective lives was to make our youngest brother happy. So we put our own feelings aside, and the awkwardness of two brothers exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. It was easier for Taylor - he was used to doing things through gritted teeth. He accepted the fact that he was there to make other people’s happy, and that his body was there for the taking, for somebody else’s pleasure. I wasn’t even used to feeling wanted in the first place - whether it was by my brothers or anyone else. To know that Taylor was just complying certainly didn’t help me getting into it. But I didn’t want to not go along with it, either. Not just because it was what Zac wanted it - it was more than that. Zac has always been the glue that had kept us together, the motivation to keep going, and ultimately, he was the reason why we’d left the only life we knew behind. And now, somehow, I had a sense that, despite being the youngest, our brother knew where he was going with that, as if he was following some obscure scent he’d picked up along the way, a trace of something guiding him to an unknown destination the existence of which he was, however, absolutely certain - some place that could not be found by sight, only by some deep-rooted instinct lodged deep, deep into his consciousness.

We could only follow.

We were running late now. I’d promised one of the tenants upstairs that I’d take a look at the leaking radiator in her flat before she left for work - there would have been plenty of time had my younger brother not decided to spring a surprise attack on me, and had I not decided to completely and unashamedly give in to it. We barely had time to get in the shower and throw some clothes before we had to rush upstairs, and it was only by a stroke of luck than the leaking radiator only needed a little tightening of the valve, and that our job was done with only minutes to spare before our neighbour had to go out.

“I need some breakfast.” Zac said, once the door was firmly shut behind us again. “I don’t like to go out on an empty stomach.”

“We would have had plenty of time for breakfast if you hadn’t decided that you…”

I still found it hard to say anything too explicit about my relationship with my brother - as if talking about it in such terms reduced it to something purely physical and shameful - the way the Outsiders would have perceived it.

“…that you had other things in mind.” I finished my sentence.

“Well you didn’t exactly say no, did you?”

“Nope.” I sighed. Nothing I could argue against there.

“See? It wasn’t really my fault. Can you make me some breakfast now?” Zac asked, laying his open palms my chest, his fingers searching for buttons to undo.

I clasped one of his hands, squeezing his fingers inside mine.

“I can, but you have to stop doing this otherwise we’ll never get anything done, Zac. Which means you’ll have to go without breakfast, and possibly lunch.”

“That harsh.” he said, evaluating his choices. I could almost see the pictures that were forming in my brother’s head - a scale with breakfast on one side and sleeping with me on the other. Food was always going to win.

“Come on, I know what you want.” I said, turning him around and walking him to the kitchen. From his lack of protesting, I guessed I was right.

“Right, let’s see what we’ve got.”

“Can you make scrambled eggs?”

“I would if we had any eggs.” I said, looking inside the refrigerator. “Looks like we’ve run out.”

“Oh…that’s a shame. Well, never mind.” Zac said nonchalantly, his downcast eyes betraying his disappointment.

I knew that not giving my brother the breakfast he was looking forward to was not an option.

“We can go and buy some. There’s a store down the road. We have enough money.” I suggested.

“But…are we allowed to spend it?”

“Of course we are, Zac. We earned it, people paid us for our work.”

“People paid you for your work, actually.”

“Zac, do you really think that people in this building actually need their taps tightened and their walls painted every other day?” I said. “It’s you they want to see. They come and gawp while you’re playing and then they’re like isn’t he adorable…!” I laughed. Trust my little brother not to realise that he’s main attraction here.

“Hmm. They just feel sorry for me.”

“Maybe they do, but so what? They pay us, and we can do with the money.”

“Should we not give it to Jesse though? To pay him back for staying here.” Zac made a vague gesture at our comfortable surroundings. I laughed to myself at my brother’s naivety. We would have needed a lot more than the pocket money we were getting from those odd jobs to compensate Jesse for feeding us and giving us a place to live.

“He doesn’t want it, Zac. I’ve tried before. He said we can just buy some groceries when we need something.”

“All right, so maybe we get something else as well as eggs if we go out? Something he likes?”

“Sure, can you think of anything?” I said, taking our coats from the coat hanger by the door.

“He likes chocolate. Maybe we get the ingredients to make a chocolate cake.”

“Oh yeah? And who’s going to bake that?” I said, helping my brother into his coat.

“Taylor. He won’t mind doing it if it’s a surprise for Jesse. And then we can have some too.”

I couldn’t argue against my brother’s logic. I grabbed the house keys, picked up the cell phone from the small table in the hallway and opened the door.

“Wait.” I suddenly remembered the most important thing. “I think I’m going to need my wallet. Hold this.” I pushed the cellphone and house keys into my brother’s hands and ran into our bedroom. My wallet was still where I’d left it when I’d last taken it out of my pants pocket: on the bedside table.

I rushed out of the room and made for the door.

“Okay.” I said, taking the house keys from Zac’s hand. “Let’s go and get those eggs because I’m getting hungry too now.”

----

There was a convenience store at the end of the road and that’s as far as I was comfortable to venture out on my own - well, with Zac in tow. We’d been further out during our winter walks, of course, but I felt nervous straying too far from the safety of the apartment without Taylor. I don’t know what I’m worrying about - I thought to myself. Jesse always said that that neighbourhood was one of the safest in the city, and that the army’s checkpoint stopped the wandering Exodus to break the illusion of a community still untouched by the troubles that were on the news. But I found it hard not to think that - however safe the neighbourhood was - strange things had happened to us: like the man in the black coat who must have been sent to spy on us by the Flock. We hadn’t seen him since that day at the Census office, and we hoped that maybe by now they had given up on us. Realistically, what else could they do?

We bought what we needed and turned back. I still found it difficult to adjust to Zac’s slow, uncertain pace. It was hard to believe that he was the same person whom the Flock trainers used to reprimand for his inability to contain his energy. If, according to CoR protocol, a good member was to walk at brisk but controlled pace, Zac would inevitably break the rules and practically break into a run. Of course, running was frowned upon: it was for RTCs only. I’d lost track of the amount of times Zac had been given further training on his physical presence. Now, my brother shuffled uncertainly, unsure of his surroundings and untrusting of his own footing. There really was no need to grip my arm so tightly as we walked, but he always did, and more than once I’d later undressed to find faint but unmistakable bruises on my arm, where the round shape of his fingers had left a paw-like print on my skin. I wondered if he’d ever learn to walk on his own - with a cane, or one of those specially trained dogs that Jesse had told us about. But then again, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to trust a dog with my brother. It was a silly idea, in fact. Between me and Taylor, there would always be someone to take care of him.

He doesn’t need a stupid dog! - I found myself shaking my head at the idea and only then realised that I’d been wrapped up in thought since leaving the shop and that we were now almost home.

“Watch the step now, Zac.” I warned my brother, as I always did, as we approached the steps that lead to the front door. He stopped, releasing his grip on my arm slightly to allow me to reach inside my coat pocket for the house keys with my free hand, while I carried the grocery bag on the other, when someone behind me grabbed me by the shoulder. It startled me, and my fingers let go of the handles of the plastic bag, which fell on the floor, spilling its contents at my feet. Shit, the eggs - I thought, before I even realised what was going on.

“Wh-”

A male voice behind me cut me off.

“Isaac, Zac, would you like to come with us please.”

“What?” Zac said. I felt him try to jerk his other arm free. “Ike, what’s going on?”

I turned around. As I did that, the grip on my shoulder loosened, still not letting go completely. When I was face-to-face with the two men who had grabbed us, I instantly knew.

Flock people.

“What the heck are you doing? Let go of me −  and let go of my brother!”

“Please, Isaac, there is no need to shout. You need to come with us. Your brother is already there.”

“Taylor?” Zac asked, his voice strained with disbelief.

“What have you done to him?”

They can’t have Taylor. He’s at the hospital. He’s with Jesse, it makes no sense, they have security there - thoughts rushed into my head as that familiar knot in my guts made itself known again, followed by a rush of panic.

“He’s okay, he’s at our Satellite Center. He came out of his own will, and we’d appreciate it if you did the same without causing a scene.” the man in front of me said. That’s when I noticed the large black SUV waiting by the sidewalk. How did I not hear it approach?

“That’s bullshit! There’s no way Taylor would have gone anywhere with you!” Zac said.

“Please get in the car.” the man holding Zac began to move towards the vehicle.

“No!” Zac yelled. “Ike, do something!”

“Do you want to see your brother, yes or no?” someone said as the SUV door clicked open.

We both knew that voice, and for a moment we were both speechless at the unexpected appearance of  Lieutenant General Laurence DuVall, our mother’s husband, and second in command to Alexander ‘Alec’ Frobisher, ‘The General’ - the second Heir to the Shepherd and current leader of the Church.

Since our mother’s wedding to DuVall, we’d had little contact with either of them; she gradually disconnected from us, until the only times we saw her were at formal occasions, or by chance. Even then, she would barely acknowledge us. He was her new family - we were effectively redundant.

I stared at my mother’s husband, shell-shocked. He was wearing civilian clothes - visible under his unbuttoned coat - but still exuded that air of authority afforded to him by his rank, and fuelled by the subservience of subordinates.

There had to be a good reason for DuVall to be standing in front of us right now.

“If you’ve hurt our brother - ”

“We do not hurt anybody, especially our people.” he interrupted me, enunciating his last two words very slowly. “You don’t want to keep your brother - and your mother - waiting now, do you?”

“She’s here?” Zac asked DuVall, before turning to me. “Ike, is she here? Is she in the car? Can you see her?”

“Are you saying our mother is here? In the City?” I asked DuVall, ignoring my brother’s questions.

“You will see your mother today, if you get in the car.” he said, gesturing at the open car door with his open hand.

I glanced around us - the street was quiet. A woman carrying shopping bags walked past and shot us a curious glance, just as DuVall’s bodyguards casually let go of our arms. I peered into the car - I could make out a driver, possibly someone else on the front passenger seat, but it was hard to tell through the darkened windows. I had no doubt that they’d find a way to get us in that car, whether we liked it or not.

They said that Taylor is there. They could be lying…but if our mother’s there…maybe that’s why he decided to go. Maybe Jesse’s there, too.

I couldn’t ignore the possibility of our brother being in danger. And knowing him, given the chance, he would have taken the opportunity to see our mother, and try to talk things out with her. To get some closure.

“Zac, maybe we should go. If Taylor’s there -”

“But what if they’re lying, and he’s not there? We can’t trust them, after they’ve had us followed, and deleted our records and all that!”

“Actually, we’ve done nothing of that sort. Whatever you are referring to - it wasn’t us.” DuVall said.

“Why should we believe you?” Zac said.

“That wasn’t you?” I said. “Then who was it? How do you know we’re here?”

DuVall took a slow, controlled breath in. Everything always so controlled, so measured. Years of processing were behind that exemplary display of self-restraint.

“You have friends in high places. Or, shall I say, enemies.” he said, without betraying the tiniest emotion. “Friends of the CoR alerted us of your re-surfacing here. Your mother wants to see you. And we always try to retrieve our lost sheep, as I am sure you are aware”. He pressed his lips together into a thin smile and gestured to the inside of the car again,

I took my brother by the arm and stepped towards the car.

“Come on Zac, we need to find out what’s going on, once and for all.”

——

As the SUV drove us to the Satellite Center, I looked out of the passenger window, searching for landmarks, trying to work out which direction we were taking. I noticed DuVall say something to the driver through the car’s intercom. Seconds later, the windows gradually blackened, until I could no longer see outside.

“What did you do that for?” I asked. “Why all the secrecy?”

“We like to keep the location of our Satellite Centers strictly on a need-to-know basis.” he said. “You have no reason to worry.”

“What happened, Ike?” Zac said.

“They blackened out the windows so we can’t see where the fuck we’re going.”

“I see that you’ve already lost your ability to contain your emotions, Isaac.” my mother’s husband said, his lips curling a tiny fraction, barely noticeable but still conveying the utter contempt he felt towards me.

“But it’s not too late for re-training, should you wish to return to us.” he continued. “We can discuss your options once we are all - once our family, after all, we’re family, right? - is all reunited.” His gaze bore into mine as he spoke - unblinking, cold.

It suddenly struck me how, to our people, DuVall embodied the perfect specimen: emotionless, free of the ties of compassion and human connection that were only seen as a hindrance to the higher state of purity. I doubted that most low-level Flock members realised that, by surrendering their minds to a permanently unemotional, dispassionate state, they were turning themselves into easy prey for the controlling methods of their superiors.

Mind control was at the root of the Church’s methods; it was through calculated, cunning manipulation that families could be broken and that children could be disconnected from their own mothers. Sadly, behind closed doors and away from the motivational speeches given to new recruits, and as Taylor had experienced only too well, the repression of one’s human essence only encouraged the most uninhibited, depraved behaviour.

If DuVall thought that I, or my brothers, would ever go back to the Church, he thought wrong.

“As far as we’re concerned, there’s nothing to discuss.We’re never coming back to the Compound.” I said, holding his stare until I couldn’t stand the sight of his eyes any longer, and turned away to face the blackened window.

What if Taylor isn’t there, what if they’re taking us straight to the Compound? Although I think we’re going north, north of the city, it’s the opposite direction. They just want to talk to her. To put things straight. Then we’ll go. Jesse is probably there waiting in the car - he wouldn’t have let Taylor go on his own. They’re so close-

The thought of Jesse instantly led to another - the cellphone. What had I done with it? I casually put my hands in my pockets, but it wasn’t there. I tried to retrace my steps that morning, until I remembered handing it to Zac while I’d gone to find my wallet. He’s got it. I wondered if Taylor had tried to call us, maybe from this same car, earlier; I always left the phone on silent mode, because I still couldn’t get used to the sudden ringing - it startled me every time.

I looked at my brother from the corner of my eye: his left hand was in his coat pocket, even if his arm was pressed against one of the men sitting next to him. It didn’t look like a very comfortable position, which convinced me that he had it, and that, above all, he wanted me to know that he had it.

Okay. We can call someone. We can call Jesse - if he’s not there already. The thought of the cellphone brought a wave of relief over me, and I began to relax, even calling myself an idiot for having worried so much. We’ll be back home in no time, I kept repeating to myself until the car suddenly took a turn over what felt like a gravel track, and then stopped. Before I’d had a chance to get my bearings, the door opened.

“We’re here.” DuVall said.

The SUV had taken us to the back entrance of what looked like an office building. I glanced around me, trying to take in my surroundings. I was fairly certain that we were still in the city.

“Ike-” Zac said, still behind me.

One DuVall’s bodyguards had grabbed my brother by the arm to guide him into the building.

“Don’t touch him - he’s walking with me.” I said, grabbing Zac by his other arm and placing his hand on the inside of my elbow.

I gave my brother’s hand a little squeeze, and felt his fingers tighten around my bicep. I wouldn’t let a dog lead my brother, let alone one of these guys, I thought to myself.

“This way.” DuVall said, while one of his bodyguards punched a code into a keypad by the door, and then pressed his thumb on the small screen above it. A bleep followed and the door clicked open. So much security.

We stepped into a corridor with strip lighting that came on with a loud buzz as we walked under it. Along the corridor were several doors, some with the sign ‘AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY’, some open, showing service areas, storage closets, plant rooms. I couldn’t help noticing trolleys full of laundry, cleaning equipment, folded linen, and a large, restaurant-size kitchen, where some members of staff in blue aprons appeared to be at work, although I couldn’t smell any cooking.

“Up this way.” DuVall said as we reached a staircase, taking the lead while one of the bodyguard followed close behind us, too close - his quick pace obviously hampered by my brother’s slow, uncertain steps. I slowed my own gait to match my brother’s. We’ll keep them waiting.

A waft of warm air hit me as we were led through a solid wood fire door which separated the top of the stairwell from another corridor with polished parquet floors and gold rimmed ceiling spotlights. It was obvious that now we were being taken into the public part of the building. If the Satellite Centers were anything like the Compound, everything was probably designed to impress new recruits and keep officers happy. A mini-Compound in the middle of the city - a home from home, I thought to myself.

They showed us into a large room with a long oval table that had some kind of telephone console built in its the centre and large, ultra-thin LED screens on every wall. Taylor wasn’t there.

“Where’s our brother? You said he was here.” I asked, trying to control a rising sense of panic.

“This doesn’t feel right, Ike.” Zac said quietly, turning his head to speak in my ear.

Both bodyguards looked at DuVall as if waiting for him to speak.

“I’m afraid we had to alter facts slightly in order to bring you here to see your mother, boys. Taylor is not here - not yet - although we are more than certain that he will join us the moment you ask him to come. Your mother wants to see him. She wants to see all of you, of course.”

“What? You lied to us?” I said.

“I knew it, I told you we couldn’t trust them, Ike!” Zac said.

“Boys, we wanted to bring him here but there just wasn’t enough time. Why don’t you take a seat now.” DuVall gestured at the chairs in front of us.

“Bullshit - there wasn’t enough time! You’ve lied to us! And I can’t believe I fell for it!” I looked around the room in disbelief, as if Taylor was going to appear from some secret doorway any minute. I’ve been such an idiot, I thought. And now we’re in trouble once again, and how am I going to get us out of here?

“Please calm down, Isaac; we only did what we had to do to reunite you with your mother.” DuVall said, matter-of-factly.

“Speaking of our mother, where is she?” Zac asked.

“Yeah, where is she?” I echoed my brother’s question. “Did you lie about that, too?”

“Your mother will be with us shortly.” DuVall said. Please sit down.”

“I guess we have no choice, have we?” I said, pulling the chair towards me.

“I’ll take your coats first.” one of the bodyguards said, holding his hand out.

Zac tensed. The cellphone.

“I’m cold, I’m keeping my coat on.” my brother said.

The bodyguard looked at DuVall. He nodded, as a flicker of impatience flashed across  his face.

“He’s always cold. He wears so many layers even around the house.” I explained, removing my own coat and offering it to DuVall’s bodyguard.

“I’ll need to pat you down” the other one said, taking a step towards me.

“Why?” I asked DuVall over the man’s shoulder.

“It’s standard procedure for non-members, Isaac. And you aren’t members, anymore, unfortunately, although hopefully this can be rectified.”

“No way. Ike - ” Zac said in low, but clear voice. His grip tightened on my arm.

“You can pat me down but you’re not touching him.” I said, shielding my brother with my outstretched arm. “He doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, especially after what you people did to him at the Detox Center.” I glared at DuVall, hoping that my years of training would hide my nerves and the fact that I was more concerned about them finding the phone in my brother’s pocket than anything else.

“Sir…” the bodyguard in charge of frisking my brother looked exasperated at his superior.

“It’s ok. Leave him.” Du Vall said. “We wouldn’t want to cause your little brother any distress.” he added, his eyes still fixed on me.

I held DuVall’s gaze as his bodyguard frisked me, his task made rather awkward by the fact that my brother clung to my arm and showed no intention of letting go to let him search me. I couldn’t help enjoying the fact that, whether he was doing it intentionally or not, Zac had a knack for making things difficult for DuVall and his men.

“Take a seat now, boys.” my mother’s husband said, when his bodyguard was done frisking me.

Boys. He still talked to us as if we were kids - even though by the time his relationship with our mother was sanctioned we were already grown men. I knew he did it to undermine us, and what was left of our family unity.

I’d never liked the guy, and neither did my brothers. There was nothing to like. When he met our mother he was already one of the highest ranking officers in the Church; by the time she became his wife and moved out, he was only a couple of rungs of the ladder removed from General Frobisher. His ascent to power had steadily continued and over our last few months at the Compound he’d been promoted to Lieutenant General and guaranteed himself a spot in Frobisher’s inner circle. And at that point, there was no way that we could ever have any type of relationship other than that of a subordinate living in fear of some kind of retribution. It had occurred to me before that he might have been behind Zac’s hospitalisation. I’d talked it over with Taylor on many occasions but my brother, despite the abuse he’d suffered since he was a kid, was still strangely trusting. He couldn’t quite believe that someone who was essentially part of our family would cause so much harm to our younger brother, and to us. We had this discussion night after night during the three long months of Zac’s imprisonment, and whether Taylor changed his mind at the end, and began to suspect that someone was behind it, I still wasn’t sure. But by the end we both agreed that we could not allow things to go on, and that we’d have to get our brother out of there.

Maybe this is our chance to really find out what happened, I thought as I watched DuVall punch some codes into telephone console’s touchscreen.

“So, where’s our mother? You said she’d be here.” Zac’s voice interrupted me from my thoughts.

“I said that you would get a chance to talk to her.” DuVall answered, without looking up from the screen.

“What? You’re just going to call her up on the phone?” I looked at the telephone console, only now realising his intentions. “You dragged us here so that you could ring her up?”

Anger rose up from the pit of my stomach, bubbling up to my head. I couldn’t believe I’d been so easily duped.

“Not quite.” DuVall said and pressed a button on a remote control, pointing it toward the screen on the opposite wall. One at at time, all the displays lit up to show WELCOME TO THE CoR over a turquoise background.

“I knew this was a stupid idea.” Zac said through gritted teeth. “I told you.”

He did - but as usual, I’d acted as if I knew best, and now I was feeling incredibly stupid for not trusting my little brother’s better judgement. He’d always had good instincts, but now that he no longer could rely on his eye sight, he had become even more perceptive. And I’d failed to listen to him. I opened my mouth to mumble an apology, when the blue background disappeared and a woman’s face appeared on the screen. Our mother.

“You’re online now, Olivia. The boys are here. Go ahead.” DuVall said.

“What? Where is she, Ike?”

“Hello Zachary, Isaac.” our mother greeted us from the screen. She looked …different. Not older, but different; there were no visible lines on her face, no cumulative traces of past displays of emotions. To an outsider, she might have appeared collected, serene. To me, she looked soulless. The process that had begun many years before, when we were children, was now complete: she was one of them, a Flock success story.

“Hello mother.”

“Mom? Where is she, Ike? Is she on video?” Zac said, tugging at my arm.

“Yes Zachary, we organised a video link to avoid your mother the inconvenience of travelling all this way to see you. I’m so very sorry that you are unable to see her.” DuVall replied.

Sure you are, I thought.

“I was worried about you.” our mother said, calmly.

“We’re fine.” I said.

“You certainly look healthy.” Her face filled the screen and I saw her eyes move slowly as she looked us up and down, assessing us, as if she was weighing us. We’d certainly put on some weight since she’d last seen us. Another sign, no doubt, that we had given in to compulsion.

“No thanks to you.” I spat out.

Her eyelids opened and shut in a slow, deliberate blink, before she turned to address my brother.

“And how are you, Zachary?”

“I’m…- ”

He exhaled. For a few seconds my brother’s breathing was the only sound in the room. I could tell that he was struggling with conflicting emotions. Despite all the anger, all the resentment he carried, there were open wounds deep inside him that had yet to heal.

“It’s okay, Zachary. Take your time.” she said, her tone marginally softer. It was as if she was forcing herself to be patient towards him - to put on a rare display of motherly love.

I turned to look at my brother, whose hand was still wrapped around my arm, although his fingers weren’t squeezing as tightly as they were a little while earlier. He looked so young now, younger than his 27 years, despite the faintest shadow of a stubble over his chin and upper lip. In the rush to go out, neither of us had had a chance to shave that morning.

“Zac. You don’t have to say anything unless you want to, you know?” I said quietly, resting my hand on the back of his neck.

“Why did you let them lock me up like that? Do you have any idea of what they did to me?” he spoke in the direction of the screen, ignoring what I’d just said.

My mother blinked slowly again.

“It was for your own good, Zachary. Detoxification is the only recognised treatment for the unresponsive state you had fallen into. Had you completed the treatment-”

“He would have died!” I shouted at the screen, unable to contain myself.

“I don’t think I could have lasted much longer in there, mom.” my brother said, his voice cracking.

“I cannot believe this.” I muttered in disbelief. Zac sounded almost apologetic - as if he had somehow failed our mother for not completing the treatment.

“You need to learn to trust your superiors, Zachary. There’s a reason why they are in a position of authority: that’s because they have the knowledge and the tools to make decisions for all of us.” she said.

“Your mother would have been unable to intervene anyway, boys. The decision had been taken by the Health & Mental Hygiene Committee and as you ought to know, family members’ input in those matters is not permitted.” DuVall said.

“You didn’t even come to see me when I got sick. Taylor got a message to you, I know he did, but you didn’t come, not even when they told you that I’d gone blind, you still didn’t come - why? Why didn’t you?” my brother’s words rushed out as if he was only asking the most simple of questions.

“I didn’t come because there was nothing that I could do for you at that point, Zachary; and because it would have been of no benefit to you or to me, or to your brothers, to put myself in a potentially damaging emotional state.”

“Actually, it would have helped me to know that you still cared.” Zac said.

“He called for you. He asked for you over and over again and we couldn’t do anything or say anything other than making excuses for you. Can you imagine what it feels like to see your brother cry because he’s lost his eyesight, to hear him ask for his mother and having to tell him that she’s not coming?” I said, barely containing my anger.

My mother’s face was still impassible. A few seconds went by before  she opened her mouth to speak, her voice still unperturbed.

“You were clearly not advanced enough in your training to understand my decision not to visit. We should have recognised that you had weak areas in your education and offered you more support. In that respect, it was us who failed you.” our mother said, and then turned to her husband, in an unspoken signal that it was his turn to speak.

“Your mother is right. We obviously didn’t give you the skills that you needed to deal with that particularly unusual situation. You were clearly unequipped to cope. We should have spotted it sooner that you and your brother Taylor were….needed further training. More intensive training, one-to-one attention. It was unfortunate and we are truly sorry about that.” DuVall said.

“But it’s not too late.” my mother added. “Laurence has spoken to the Committee and it has been decided that because of the exceptional circumstances, and because of Zac’s condition, you will all be granted the privilege of re-admission. You won’t be declared Established Enemies. You can come back and begin again. You will be given all the training that you need. There will be no consequences. You can come home. Isaac, Zachary, you can come home.”

A smile slowly spread on my mother’s face as she spoke. By the time she had uttered her last word, she was beaming.

For a moment I was stunned to speak. Did she really tell us that we could go back? Did she really think that we’d want to go back?

“You’ve got to be kidding.” The idea was so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but laugh. “We are n-”

“Mom.” Zac interrupted me. He’d let go of my arm, for the first time since leaving the house. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers interlaced together. He closed his eyes for a second or two, then looked up towards the screen, making a guess of where my mother’s eyes might be.

“Mom.” he said again.

“You can speak freely Zachary, just go ahead.”

“Mom, it’s too late. You can’t fix this. We can’t go back there. I can’t….we can’t go back to that. We have a new life out here on the Outside now. We have a friend, you know and- ”

“The doctor, yes, we know all about him.” DuVall said. “We know how close you are to him. Especially Taylor.”

“He’s been very good to us.” I said coldly, fully aware of what my mother’s husband was insinuating.

“Do you really think that your friend will support you and stand by you forever? Because I can tell you right away that he will not.” my mother said. The smile from only moments earlier had disappeared.

“You may be right…he might not - we don’t expect him to. We’re trying to learn how things are done out here, you know?” Zac said.

“We’re trying, mom.” he continued. “Taylor wants to become a nurse. Ike’s already doing a lot of odd jobs in the building where we live. People pay him, you know? With real money - Outsiders’ money. And I…-” he shrugged and looked down. “I don’t know what I can do. Not much I guess. I’m learning to play the guitar. I know I can’t work. Not much I can do about that, either.”

My brother’s acceptance of his situation suddenly brought a wave of sadness over me, but at the same time I felt proud of his maturity - of how much progress he’d made in the past few months. Of how he didn’t really seem to hate the people who had put him in that situation. Whereas I still did, and I had no intention to ever stop that. They had caused his blindness. They’d nearly killed him by neglect. I wasn’t going to forgive anyone, any time soon.

“We might be able to help with your …condition, Zachary.” DuVall said. “Should you decide to return to the Church. Considering the circumstances, the HMHC might consider funding an operation to restore your eyesight.”

“What?” we said over each other’s voice.

“You could be given surgery, Zac: you could see again.” our mother nodded slowly as she talked.

I turned to look at my brother. His face was a mix of confusion, shock, disbelief.

“But…that’s not possible. Jesse looked into it and he said it can’t be done, something about the …optic nerve being dead? He phoned one of the best eye surgeons in the country. He said Zac’s blindness is irreversible.” I said.

“Have you not considered the possibility that he might have said that because that kind of surgery would be definitely out of his reach? Do you really think that an community hospital’s doctor’s salary could pay for it?” DuVall sneered.

“No, but if it was possible he would know. He would have told us.” I insisted.

“Why would he tell you? To build your hopes up for nothing? Much better to keep it quiet, and maintain that nice little cozy arrangement you have living at his place. He wouldn’t want to lose his room mates. Especially Taylor.” DuVall said.

“Zachary.”

Our mother took over again from DuVall. I couldn’t help wondering if she shared her husband’s suspicions on the nature of Taylor’s relationship with Jesse. Either way, it was none of their business.

“Don’t you want a second chance?” she continued. “A second chance to see again, and a second chance to lead the life that you were brought up for, the only life that is right for you, Zachary. The Church is your family. We are your family. The Outside will never give you a chance again but we will, and if you are prepared to be re-trained and make an effort, you could even get your old job back. I know you miss it. I know you miss the children that you worked with. Come home, Zachary. Where you belong. With your mother.”

I glanced at my brother and I couldn’t read his face. He was just looking at the screen, stunned, silent. Was he seriously considering our mother’s offer?

“That’s bullshit, Zac.” I said quietly into his ear. “You know that, don’t you?” I put my hand on his arm, and squeezed it gently. “Zac, don’t forget what they did to you.”

“I know.” My brother’s voice cracked. He was trying not to cry, but I could see how he was struggling with himself. I couldn’t entirely blame him for clinging to the possibility, however remote, of being able to see again. But I didn’t believe for a moment that what Jesse had told us was nothing but the whole truth. He wouldn’t have lied to us. The only liars were sitting in front of us right now, waiting for my brother to speak. They would wait, they wouldn’t rush him. I knew their tactics, and I knew that they were happy to take their time, working their web around us until we’d be too tightly wrapped up in their deception to tell lies from truth. I knew that they didn’t want Zac to feel pressured into a decision, that he had to believe he was still able to make a choice. I knew how the Flock operated and once I’d dissected their techniques and unveiled their tricks, once I’d reverse engineered their processes, there was no going back. I could never trust them again. Unfortunately, I couldn’t fully trust myself either. They were too good and too subtle, and I’d already fallen for one of their stories only an hour earlier.

“Take your time, Zac. Take your time.” our mother said. Her voice was soothing, caring. I didn’t recall her using that tone with us before - certainly not in the latter years of us living together. “Would you like some water?” she continued.

“I…need to go to the bathroom.” my brother suddenly stood up, groping at my shoulder for support.

“Where’s the bathroom? I’ll take him.” I turned to DuVall, trying not to look too surprised at my brother’s sudden reaction.

“I’ll get someone to show you.” he said. His had pressed something under the table - some kind of alarm, I thought. When his bodyguards appeared, he asked them to escort us to the restrooms.

As we walked along the corridor, one bodyguard in front of us and one behind us, Zac’s fingers tightened around my arm and squeezed it twice, in a deliberate pattern. One, two. A few steps later he did the same - one, two. I realised he was trying to give me a signal of some kind. The man in front of us stopped in front of the restroom door and opened it before following us in.

I opened the door of one of the cubicles and gently led my brother inside.

“Do you need me to help you, Zac?” I asked my brother, hoping that he’d guessed my intentions.

“Yes please.” he was quick to add.

“Will you give us a minute, please.” I said, turning my head to one side to speak to DuVall’s bodyguard. Ignoring his reply, I walked into the cubicle and pulled the door closed as much as I could to shield us, although there wasn’t enough space to shut it completely.

“Ok.” I said quietly once I was sure that we couldn’t be seen.

My brother put his hand in his coat pocket and quickly handed me the cellphone. I checked the screen: we’d had missed call only a few minutes earlier. I could only guess that the phone had vibrated in Zac’s pocket, and that he’d panicked that someone could hear it. Certainly, standing up quickly and announcing a sudden urge to use the bathroom had been an excellent display of quick thinking on my brother’s part.

I pocketed the phone and waited for my brother to relieve himself; luckily, Zac could always use the bathroom pretty much on command. If there was an opportunity to empty his bladder, he always took it, to the point that Taylor and I would often joke that he had a medical problem.

“I need to go, too. Wait here, Zac” I said as I helped my brother out of the cubicle once he was done. As I closed the cubicle door, I noticed that the bodyguard’s face briefly flinched with irritation.

I knew there wasn’t much time. I took the cellphone and started to type a message to Taylor. My stomach knotted as I tried to find the letters for the words I needed to form - writing really wasn’t my forte. Carefully, and as quietly as I could, I entered the keys into the screen. Our cellphone, unlike Taylor’s, had a physical keyboard, one that Jesse had chosen so that Zac could use, it if necessary, by memorising the position of the numbers on each key. The only problem was, even if I had immediately turned off the keyboard tones, which I found really irritating, tapping on the keys still produced a soft sound, and I worried that DuVall’s bodyguard could hear it. But my brother’s quick thinking surprised me once again - he was clearly taking his time washing his hand, giving me some cover with the sound of the running water. Seconds later, the humming of an electric hand dryer followed. I tapped each letter into the phone as quickly as possible until I had a semi-intelligible sentence on the screen.

were at COR CENTER IN teh CITY wiv Duvl and mother

That will do - I thought just as the hand dryer’s motor stopped. There was no time left and it was too complicated to explain that our mother wasn’t actually, physically there. I pressed ‘send’. ‘Sending’ was still flashing on the screen when I put the phone in my pocket, pulled the toilet flush and opened the door.

As we walked back into the conference room, and went back to take a seat, I saw that there was a large thermal pot on the table. Cups had been placed in front of our seats and next to each cup there was a small plate of cookies.

I looked at the pot, and at the dark liquid that steamed from the cups. I was confused. I recognised the smell but it didn’t fit in the situation - it couldn’t be. Coffee?

“We do make some exceptions on stimulants, on special occasions.” DuVall said, pre-emptying my objection. He gestured at the spread on the table. “Please, help yourselves.”

I grabbed my brother’s wrist before he could find a cookie.

“Wait Zac. Are you seriously going to eat or drink anything they give us? How do we know we’re not going to wake up back at the Compound?”

DuVall scoffed and shook his head.

“Olivia…” he seemed to appeal to my mother on the screen.

“I will choose to ignore what you just said, Isaac. I’m saddened that you think we would use such methods. I want you to come back - we both do” my mother said, turning to DuVall. “But nobody is going to force you. The idea that we would drug you and take you there by force is not just preposterous, it’s offensive.”

“You lied to us to get us here. I can’t trust you.” I said, my hand still tightly gripping Zac’s wrist.

DuVall let out a little, controlled laugh.

“Isaac, Isaac. You really should trust your mother. And you might want to check the cellphone that you are hiding in your pocket. Whatever you were trying to send, it won’t have got through. Cellphones signal is blocked in this building. Go on, check it.” my mother’s husband said, with a satisfied smirk.

“What? How do you- you spied on us in the bathroom?” I said, stunned.

“We have surveillance in every room of this building, Isaac. It wasn’t set up especially for your visit, I can assure you.”

“What about the phone, Ike?” Zac asked, anxiously.

“Take a look at it.” DuVall insisted.

I took the cellphone out of my pocket and looked at the screen in disbelief.

“Ike? What does it say?” Zac’s said.

“It says MESSAGE FAILED.”

“So we can’t call Taylor? Why won’t they let us?” Zac asked, his voice shaking now.

“Zachary…” my mother began to say.

“You said that you’re not keeping us here against our will but you’ve just spied on us in the bathroom and now you won’t let us call Taylor?” Zac was now yelling.

“Nobody said that you can’t call Taylor. In fact, that’s what we’d like you to do now. Call him. Ask him to come here, so we can talk about this together.” our mother said.

“There is nothing to talk about! He doesn’t want to go back there either.” I said, struggling not to raise my voice. “None of us does.”

“Don’t you think he should at least have his say? Especially when it could mean the difference between your brother regaining his sight or being blind for the rest of his life?” she said.

I looked at Zac. His eyes were trained somewhere towards the screen where her voice was coming from, and were searching for her face in long sweeping movements, scanning the brightly lit flat surface that stood in for our mother. As if, pixel by pixel, my brother was trying to take in her face, to rebuild whatever image of her was stored in his memory. I knew that he was torn between heart and logic, between our own bitter experience and the undeniable feelings he still harboured for her. He was still a boy when she’d walked away from us as a family. She’d abandoned us, but above all she’d abandoned him when he’d needed her most. And yet, like a dog still seeking its master’s approval after a beating, my brother, deep down, still loved her.

I couldn’t make that decision for him, nor could I speak on behalf of Taylor. I needed him there to reassure me that my instincts were right, that I wasn’t acting out of selfishness. And above all, I needed a doctor to expose DuVall’s lies. Because I knew, at a deep, visceral level, that there was no operation that even Church money could buy to restore Zac’s sight. I knew it, but I couldn’t prove it. Yes, I needed Jesse there, to confirm that what my so-called family was doing was just giving my younger brother false hope.

I took the cordless phone from DuVall’s hand and dialled the number.

Chapter Text

To say that Isaac’s phone call had taken me by surprise would be an understatement: it was strange enough to see his number appear on the screen - he didn’t like to use the cellphone and had never needed to ring me until then. It was me who sometimes called him during the day while I was at the hospital, just to check on how he and Zac were doing. That’s why I knew the moment I’d picked up and heard his voice that something was wrong, and when he said ‘Flock’ my heart skipped a beat and one, single thought took over: to get my brothers out of there as soon as possible.

But that wasn’t going to be easy. I still had to wait over an hour for Jesse to come off his shift so that he could drive me to the CoR Satellite Center. It was far from ideal, but getting a cab was out of the question: straightaway, Jesse had said that he didn’t want me to go on my own and besides, Isaac had been particularly insistent on that point. “Get Jesse to drive you.” he’d said. And then, before hanging up, he’d stressed: “I’ll see you both soon.” I guess he didn’t think it would be safe for me to go on my own - and judging from my past experience on my own in the City, it probably wasn’t.

——

Isaac had given us an address, which appeared unlisted on the satellite navigator except for the street name and block number. Unsurprisingly, the CoR had chosen not to make their Satellite Center easily identifiable.

“What do you think you’re going to do once we get there?” Jesse asked me as he swerved through the daytime traffic. “I mean, if your mother’s there… there’s got to be a reason, right? You don’t think they’re going to try and convince you to go back there?” he continued.

“I don’t know. It’s possible though - why else would they be there? It must be why we couldn’t get hold of our birth records. They must be behind all of that.”

That was the only logical explanation I could think of at that stage.

“Well, you’re not going to listen to anything the might have to say on that subject, right?” Jesse quickly took his eyes away from the traffic to look at me. “Right?”

“Of course I’m not going to listen to them, Jesse.” I snapped. “Do you think I’m just going to just walk back into the Compound? After what they did to Zac?”

“No but… it’s just that they somehow talked Isaac into following them there in the first place. That worries me. They’re clearly good at making up stories.”

I had to admit to myself that Jesse had a point. What had got into my brother? He should have known better than that.

“If they told that our mother was there, and maybe that I was there, that would have been a good enough reason for Isaac to go. I don’t know, Jesse. But he seemed to really be making a point that you had to come as well. The way he said it. He really thinks that you need to be there.”

There has to be a reason - I kept telling myself, in the hope to quieten the anxiety rising inside me.

“Well, he probably doesn’t trust them. Who’s going to call the cops if they try to bundle the three of you into a van to drag you back to the Compound?…” Jesse said as he picked up his phone and looked at the screen. “I’d better check that I have enough charge, I suppose. I’ll give you an hour, if I don’t see you come out after that I’ll have to call the Feds. ” he added, with a forced laugh.

“The who?”

“The Feds? It’s what they say in the movies. Never mind. It was a joke.”

“But you’re not going to wait outside, right? You’ve got to come in with me. Isaac was adamant that you had to come.”

“I don’t know Tay, it’s your family matters. It’s not really for me to be there, you know? They’re not going to talk freely if I’m there.”

“I don’t care, I want you to be there, and I have a feeling that Isaac wants you there for good reasons. If they don’t want to talk in front of you then we’re all going to leave, period.”

“All right.” he sighed. “I’ll come in with you. I just thought I’d be more useful outside, that’s all.”

“I’ll feel better if you’re there. You’re an Outsider - you’re not going to fall for any of their tricks. I keep telling myself that I won’t, either, but…you don’t know how good they are, Jesse. Some days I wake up and I still think that maybe there was some truth in what The Shepherd said, you know? But then I just have to think of what they did to Zac, and how it could have ended for him…and…well that wasn’t what good people do.”

“Don’t forget what they also did to you, Tay. If you’re ever in any doubt that your cult mates were ever the good guys.” Jesse said, still looking at the road ahead.

“I know. It’s just…you know. I was used to it. It seemed normal.”

“That’s how mind control works. They make you accept the weirdest shit.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

I ignored Jesse’s frustrated glanced and turned to look out of the car window. The City was bustling with people going about their business, shoppers, workers. It reminded me of the first time we’d arrived here on the bus - I could still recall that sense of excitement and hope - that feeling that everything was possible.  But things were different now: we knew that we were different, unprepared for life outside the CoR, for how ordinary people lived. And we knew only too well that we were only a thread removed from the Displaced Camp at Blue City. We’d been very, very lucky so far, lucky to find someone willing to help us, but it was clear that the Outside was not the land of hope and dreams that we initially thought.

“Taylor, are you listening to me?” Jesse said.

“I wonder what she wants from us, you know?” I thought aloud, ignoring Jesse’s question entirely. “Is she going to apologise for what she did to Zac? What else could she possibly want?”

“They probably want you to go back there. If they’re the people behind all the weird stuff that went on with your birth records, they will go through great lengths to get their on way.”

“Yeah but why? Why would they want us back? We should be Established Enemies by now.” That theory didn’t make sense. Nothing did - something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“I don’t know. I must admit, the whole thing is …odd. I can’t figure out what they’d gain from preventing you from finding your father. Unless they’re afraid of something. Or someone.”

“Do you think they’re afraid of him?”

It hadn’t occurred to me right up until then that maybe we presented a bigger threat to the CoE than we were aware of.

“I don’t know, but it could be. But either way, you’ll find out very soon. We’re almost there.” Jesse said, glancing at the satellite navigator that was clipped to the dashboard. A pulsating blue dot flashed over the address that Isaac had given me, moving closer and closer on the map. We were almost there.

———

“He’s here Sir. He’s accompanied by a non-member. He said he won’t come in without him.”

The CoR bodyguard kept his eyes fixed on me while talked into a radio - presumably to DuVall, our mother’s husband. The man in front of me was the typical example of Flock muscle: tall, but otherwise deceptively unremarkable in terms of physical size. The Church didn’t allow for excesses when it came to nutrition, but the Security Corps - that’s what they were called - underwent a rigorous physical training, which included not only hours in the gymnasium and gruelling runs around the Compound’s perimeter, but also self-defence and combat techniques. An Officer once told me that they practiced a particularly brutal type of combat called Krav Maga, a self-defence technique that had been created somewhere abroad several decades before. I had no doubt that neither Jesse nor I would stand a chance against him.

“Yes Sir.” the bodyguard talked into the radio. “Come with me.” he said to the both of us.

I felt strangely calm as we followed him into the building; having Jesse with me reassured me that they couldn’t do anything to us. I knew they wouldn’t try to do anything by force - it wasn’t their style - but they knew how to be persuasive. None of that would work with Jesse, I thought to myself as I glanced at him, his hands firmly stuck in his pockets as he walked by my side looking remarkably unfazed. Even if he might have been worried deep down, it didn’t show. Jesse always had this aura of calm - maybe it was something he’d learnt in his job, having to deal with medical emergencies all day. Or maybe he’d always been like that and that was why he’d made such a good ER doctor.

Jesse would have made a perfect Flock member, I suddenly realised. What he does is nothing other than filtering. He’s a natural, I thought, and for a moment I found the idea quite amusing.

“Wait here.” the bodyguard ordered us once we reached a door sporting a golden plaque that read ‘Conference Room 1’. He knocked twice and, without waiting for an answer from the other side, he went inside, shutting the door behind him. A few seconds passed, and I could clearly hear voices - DuVall’s, and Isaac’s.

“Screw this. I’m not waiting.” I said, grabbing the door handle and pushing he door open. My brothers were there, and so was DuVall. For a fraction of a second I was confused: there was no sign of our mother. Until I saw the barely registered surprise on her face, which was looking back at me from four flat screens affixed to each wall.

“Laurence -” I said to DuVall, questioningly.

“Well, well, Taylor. And friend. This is highly irregular. He shouldn’t really be-”

“Taylor!” Isaac said over DuVall. His face displayed relief as he got up from his chair and put his arms around me. “I’m so sorry about this, Tay. I shouldn’t have let them talk me into it, they said you were already here.” he said into my ear in a low voice.

“Tay?” Zac also got up, and carefully stepped towards me. I grabbed hold of his arm, drawing him close to me until our foreheads touched.

“It’s going to be ok, Zac. Jesse’s here too.” I said, my eyes still fixed on my mother’s face, watching me from the screen.

“Hello, Taylor.” she said.

I opened my mouth but words became stuck in my throat. That’s it, I thought. All she has to do is say ‘hello’ and I’m already incapable of forming a sentence.

“They said you were here.” I said, eventually, my tone more reproachful than I intended.

“It was too complicated to explain.” Isaac hurried to add.

“I am here, Taylor. I see you. You can see me. Please sit down” she said. DuVall nodded, indicating a place next to where Zac had been sitting. I sat down, and Jesse sat next to me.

“This is highly irregular.” DuVall said once again. “We will make an exception for you on this occasion, but let it be known that we do not usually discuss members’ matters in the presence of non-members.” he said, looking at me, then at Jesse.

“We’re not members anymore, so, whatever.” I shrugged.

“We know exactly why your brother insisted that your doctor friend came along. We could have terminated the conversation at any point, of course, but we are not afraid of the opinions of a junior ER resident.” he said.

“Actually, he’s-” I started to say.

“Leave it, Taylor.” Jesse stopped me, putting his hand on my arm. DuVall’s lips curled upwards almost imperceptibly.

“Why are we here? What do you want from us?” I asked DuVall and my mother.

She blinked slowly and smiled.

“You are all here because I - we - would you like you to come home.”

----

My mother talked at lengths about our possible return to the Compound as fully fledged CoR members, describing how we wouldn’t be struck off as Established Enemies, and neither would we be punished and put through RTC re-training. She talked in that captivating, mesmerising voice she’d used to tell us stories many, many years ago, when she was still a mother to us. She talked of being a family again, of new beginnings. It all sounded so persuasive and well-rehearsed, like a CoR recruitment video, and I found myself getting lost in the fantasy until she said something about an operation that the Church was prepared to fund for Zac.

‘What?’ Jesse burst out saying, shaking his head in disbelief. “What medical treatment?”

My mother blinked Jesse’s interruption away, as if he wasn’t even worth acknowledging, and carried on talking about medical advancements, new technology, contingency funds and Church reserves that were usually reserved for extreme cases. Word after word designed to dazzle, so many words, all amounting to one single message: hope for my brother. So that’s why Isaac wanted Jesse to be there.

“That’s absolute nonsense. Convincing nonsense, but still nonsense.” Jesse said when my mother’s speech ended.

“And you’re qualified to say that, Dr… Adams, I suppose? As an ER doctor. Or have you just taken a specialisation in Ophthalmology by online study? Or maybe you bought it from a degree mill in your home country of…Australia?” DuVall said, in a slow, deliberate manner.

“You’re right, I’m not specialised in Ophthalmology but I’ve been in contact with the top two surgeons in the field about Zac’s case, and they both concurred that there’s no operation that can restore his eyesight. What you - what your wife is talking about is science fiction. You’re just giving Zac false hope, and the worst thing about it is that you know it.”

Jesse looked up defiantly at our mother on the screen. His confidence clearly unnerved her - her face hardened and her brow raised imperceptibly as if she was struggling to suppress a blink. Slowly, she turned her gaze to me.

“Taylor, your friend’s accusations would really hurt if I wasn’t equipped to deal with the prejudice and mistrust of the Outsiders.” she said, slowly.

“Oh my God. This is just unbeliev-” Jesse began to say.

“We’re not afraid to allow an Outsider voice his views.” DuVall cut in. “We could have cut off the conversation when Isaac insisted that you brought him along, but we allowed it, even if his intentions were pathetically transparent. And again, we could have stopped Dr ER from gaining entry into the building, but we allowed it. What does that say to you?”

I had to admit that I was at a loss for words - it was true, why did they let him come along in the first place?

“I… I don’t know.” I admitted. I looked over at Isaac. He hadn’t looked that worried in a long time.

“Taylor - they’re just trying to confuse you with pseudo-medical facts. You’ve got to trust me, if I thought that there was something we could do for Zac, I’d tell you.” Jesse said, leaning towards me slightly, but still speaking loudly enough for everybody in the room to hear.

“And of course, you have no personal interest in keeping your friends away from their mother, have you, Dr Adams?” DuVall asked Jesse, leaning back on his chair as if he was making himself comfortable before a show.

“My personal interest is to stop my friends from making a very big mistake.” Jesse retorted, enunciating the last three words slowly.

“By ‘your friends’, you mean, your boyfriend, right Dr Adams? You don’t want Ty-lor to leave you.” DuVall said, mockingly.

“Too right I don’t want him to leave and go back to that sick cult of yours.” Jesse said, as if DuVall’s insinuation about our relationship was completely irrelevant. He didn’t bother denying that there was really nothing between us. He’s not ashamed of it, even if it’s not true, I thought.

“Oh, you think that our Church is sick?”DuVall said, with an amused look.

“Sick does not even begin to describe it, actually.” Jesse said.

DuVall shook his head as turned to me and my brothers with a chilling smile - the smile of someone who has nothing to fear. That’s what always made a fervent Flock member invincible: they had nothing to lose. Our stepfather stood up and walked to the screen at the far end of the room until he was standing by our mother’s enlarged face.

“So I suppose, Dr Adams -” he carried on, still addressing Jesse “I suppose you think that your friends are just poor innocent victims? Is that why you’ve taken it upon yourself to be their protector? That’s just so cute. You really have no idea, have you? Your friends here are anything but innocent little lambs. If you knew what they get up to when you’re not looking, you’d throw them out of your house in a shot.”

“There are things - behaviours - that we - as a Church, and a close-knit community - are willing to forgive. The Outside is not so forgiving.” our mother said, still not making eye contact with Jesse, but looking pointedly at me and then at Zac.

Only then it occurred to me that, despite all their techniques and the intelligence they were supposed to hold on us, DuVall and our mother didn’t know how close we really were to Jesse. They didn’t know him and above, they were judging him by the same criteria they used indiscriminately for all Outsiders, namely that he couldn’t possibly be forgiving, or understanding.

“Actually, I already know what kind of behaviours you’re talking about.” Jesse said before I had a chance to tell DuVall that they were wrong.

“I can’t say that I agree with it, but it’s not your sons’ fault if they grew up in an environment that considers sleeping with your own brothers acceptable.” Jesse said directly at the screen where my mother’s face glowed against the official CoR blue background. It was the first time he’d spoken directly about the relationship between me and my brothers since the day he’d walked in on us.

I searched DuVall’s face for a trace of surprise. He was too good at hiding his thoughts, but a lifetime of training and years of working close to other people like him meant that I was equally good at spotting those impossibly to hide flickers of emotions that even the best Flock members couldn’t suppress. Disappointment, annoyance. He thought he had something on us. It only lasted a split second - my mother’s husband was not someone who would let himself be derailed so easily.

“I don’t know what these boys told you, Dr Adams, but if you think that kind of behaviour was actually endorsed by the Church itself, you are mistaken. It is tolerated, because it’s less damaging than an unsanctioned relationship and the risk of unauthorised reproduction, but it is not encouraged, and most certainly not endorsed. If you think that the majority of CoR members actually ….partake in such acts, again, you think wrong.”

That was another lie. Of course it went on - it went on in a lot of CoR households, behind closed doors. We knew it from fragments of conversations and unspoken words; from stolen glances at training exercises and confessions extorted at processing sessions. It was a secret that wasn’t really a secret. Nobody spoke of it, but it happened. A lot.

I looked at Jesse. I hope he’s not going to believe DuVall.

“Look, Mr…DuVall? I don’t care about what your Church approves or doesn’t approve. I’ve heard enough from the guys to have formed an opinion about your Flock, and it’s not a good one.” Jesse said, before turning to me. “Taylor, what are we doing here? I think we’ve all heard enough. Let’s just go.”

“It’s not your place to end this conversation, Doctor.” DuVall said. “If there’s one person who has the right to decide, that’s Zachary.”

My brother, who up until that point had been listening quietly, raised his eyes in the direction of DuVall.

“That’s right, Zachary.” my mother joined in. “It is your choice. You can choose to believe your family, or you can follow the words of an Outsider who might have …other reasons for not wanting to help you.”

“There are no other reasons, Zac.” Jesse leaned forward to speak to my younger brother, who was sitting next to me. “Zac, you know that if I thought that there was something we could do, I’d do it, right?”

“I know…” Zac said. “But even if there was something we could do, who’d pay for it? You can’t afford an operation like that…right?” Zac said to Jesse as if they were the only two people in the room.

“No, you’re right, I couldn’t even pay for one nurse’s fee, but that’s not to say that I wouldn’t try to make it happen anyway. There are cases, high profile cases when hospitals cover those costs. The kind of pioneering surgery on offer that these people - that your mother is talking about, they raise profile for hospitals and surgeons. I’m not saying it would be easy but it does happen. But it’s just not possible, Zac.” Jesse said earnestly, looking right into my brother’s eyes despite knowing full well that all he could see was shadows.

“But… how can we be sure, Jesse? Those doctors you spoke to, they haven’t seen me. You spoke to them but they haven’t seen me, right? So how do we know for sure?” Zac said. My little brother’s voice was suddenly heavy with doubt. Within the space of a few hours, my mother and DuVall had successfully managed to make him doubt the person who had rescued us from the camp and given us a place to live. Awesome.

Jesse nodded as he listened to my brother’s doubts.

“That’s true, they haven’t examined you in person.” he conceded after a pause. “They were adamant that the details I gave them was enough to rule out surgery, but you’re right. Maybe that’s the next step.”

“Oh, so you didn’t even get Zac a personal examination…! Well, that’s just marvellous. And how much would that cost anyway - would Doctor ER even be able to afford it?” DuVall scoffed, jumping at the opportunity to belittle Jesse.

“That’s none of your goddamn business.” Jesse snapped.

“We could save for an examination, that’s really not the point- ” Isaac started to say. “If the surgeons say-”

“Oh but it is the point, Isaac, as clearly your friend hasn’t been as thorough as he’d like you to believe in ruling out possible treatment. He could have taken him to see one of those top specialists that he likes to brag about, but he didn’t. This diagnosis he gave you…was based on nothing. Just words! Well, I rest my case.” DuVall said, looking very pleased with himself as he walked back to the table and sat down.

“Who are you going to believe, Zachary? Your own mother, or a stranger who doesn’t have your best interest at heart?” our mother said, using that voice again, that sweet, soft voice that she knew would go straight to my younger brother’s heart. It didn’t work so effectively with me, because I was old enough to remember, and by the look of it, it didn’t work at all with Isaac, because he was too old not to forget. But I could see that Zac was wavering.

I turned to Jesse, and looked at him pointedly, as if to say do something. He took the cue.

“Look Zac, I can take you to a specialist. Yes, it will be expensive, but we’ll find the money somewhere. If that’s going to put your mind at rest, and if it’s going to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life, then we’ll find a way.” Jesse said to my younger brother, before lowering his voice. “Zac, I promise you.”

“We can start saving for it, we earn money too now, Zac.” Isaac said.

“Good luck with that. It will take you only, what, twenty years with the money you make fixing leaking taps for your neighbours.” DuVall laughed.

“How…how do you know that?” I asked.

“Oh, we know, we know a lot. As I said to your brothers earlier, you have enemies in high places.” he said.

“What enemies? What does he mean by that?” I looked at Isaac questioningly.

“I don’t know Tay, he said they’re not-”

“Zachary.” My mother’s voice cut through Isaac’s. “You need to make a decision. This is about your future. You’re a man now, and you can make your own choices. You don’t need your brothers to decide for you. If they don’t want to come back home, it’s for their own reasons. Think about it.”

Isaac shook his head and looked up at our mother on the screen with an expression of disbelief which I am sure was all over my face too. I didn’t expect her to try and turn Zac against us. Implying that we were deliberately depriving him of the chance to see again, for whatever selfish reasons - that was uncalled for. I didn’t think she could stoop so low.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” Isaac shook his head in a mix of disbelief and disappointment. “You have no idea, have you..? Of what we’ve done…of what we’d do for our brother. We’ve always put him first, before anything else - if we believed that what you’re saying is true about the operation, if I could bring myself to believe that, we’d do it, we’d never take that chance away from him.”

The weight of what Isaac had just said hit me in all its inevitability. If the Church really had a way to restore our brother’s sight, of course we’d have no choice but to go back. Our new life on the Outside, Isaac’s maintenance jobs, the hospital. Jesse. We would forego that in an instant, trading it back for our old existence, the hardship, the regimented routine, the meals made out of rations. Of course we’d do it. For a moment I saw myself back there, at the Compound. Would I get my old job back - could I make myself do it? I saw myself, back at the Club House, the officers, the bedrooms, night after night in pursuit of someone else’s pleasure. As I imagined our return there, a sense of quiet resignation descended over me - resignation and sadness, regret, acceptance. What would it be like to leave this world we had only just began to discover. To never see Jesse ever again.

Was there really a chance? Did the Church have contacts that maybe Jesse didn’t have? What if it’s true?

“How do we know that you’re telling the truth about the operation.” I finally said, my throat suddenly dry. I kept my eyes fixed on my mother’s face, knowing that Isaac and Jesse were staring at me, their worry palpable.

“We don’t need to provide evidence for what we are offering, Taylor.” DuVall said.

“But you can’t expect us to just walk back into the Compound without any assurance that there actually is an operation that can make Zac see again.” I said

“There is no operation, Tay. You’ve got to believe me.” Jesse said.

“Jesse, what if-”

“Shut up, all of you!” Zac said, almost shouting. “I can’t take this anymore. I… I wanna go home.”

Home? My heart sunk before I was even able to decipher my brother’s intentions.

“I’m sick of everybody talking as if I’m not even in the room, I’m sick of hearing about this operation, I don’t even care if it exists or not, I’m not going back there!”

He doesn’t want to go back, I realised, before my mother began to speak.

‘Zachary…”

“Mom, I’m sorry, but you have no idea of what we’ve been through - of what Taylor had to do… of how we lived.  And Jesse - he’s the only person I’ve ever trusted apart from my own brothers. Well I trusted you but..that didn’t end very well, did it?”

“You can trust me now, Zachary.” our mother almost pleaded with him. It was strange - there was something. Emotion, maybe?

“Maybe I can, Mom, I don’t know, maybe you believe it because they’ve told you. I don’t trust him-” my brother gestured with his head towards DuVall. “I don’t trust him. And one thing I do know is that if Jesse says that there is no operation, then that’s the truth. But you know what, even if there was an operation…and even if the Church was willing to pay for it… I wouldn’t go back there. I’d rather be blind for the rest of my life than to walk back into that prison, and drag my brothers along with me. They’d never let me go back there on my own and they’ve done enough for me, without having to give up the only chance of a …normal life we’ve ever had - for me. I’m not gonna do that to them in the off chance that what you’re telling me is not another pack of lies.”

For a moment, the room fell silent. My mother and her husband were shocked - they didn’t expect Zac to react that way. But we - Isaac, and I - were proud - proud that our younger, damaged brother was now a man strong enough to stand up to the people who had hurt him so much.

“Well then. That’s your choice.” DuVall said, interrupting the silence. You’ve made your choice and there’s nothing left to say, here. Olivia?”

My mother blinked as her name was mentioned, and reached for something off camera. A glass of water - from which she took a small, measured sip. My mother was trying to gain time, to regroup. For the first time since I’d walked into that room and seen her face on the paper thin screen, I could see a shadow of defeat on her impassible, Flock-trained face.

“I suppose you have made your choice, Zachary. You’ve chosen between the Outside and your family. You’re the one who will have to live with the consequences.”

“But we are a family, Mom. The three of us. It’s always been that way.” Zac shrugged. His eyes were full of the inescapable sadness of someone who has finally accepted an obvious, uncomfortable truth. “And it’s too late, when I needed you you weren’t there, but Ike and Tay were. We don’t need you anymore. That’s why I didn’t even care about finding our father. He’s never been there, I didn’t need him back then and I don’t need him now.”

Our father. I had almost forgotten to ask.

“About our father - as Zac said, we’ve been trying to find him. But every time we thought we were getting somewhere, something happened to stop us. Why are you doing that?” I asked my mother.

“We’ve had nothing to do with that, Taylor.”

“I was asking them the same question earlier, Tay. I didn’t have enough time to explain on the phone.” Isaac said.

“So… wait, it wasn’t you?”

DuVall shook his head.

“But then who? Somebody’s been trying to stop us from finding our birth records - why?”

“Not us. Unfortunately we are not actually as powerful as you think - in fact, I think you’ll find that we’re a persecuted minority.” DuVall said.

“When you said that we have enemies in high places, what did you mean?” Isaac asked DuVall.

“I meant exactly that. Whoever is trying to prevent you from finding your…father” DuVall’s mouth curled with disgust as he uttered the word ‘father’ “they alerted us of your whereabouts and told us about your peculiar living arrangements with Dr Adams. Other than that, we have nothing to do with your pointless investigations.” DuVall said, with a flash of impatience. “Olivia, I think it’s time.” he told our mother. She nodded, programmed as she was to follow orders - his orders, the Church’s orders. But her eyes were telling a different story. She didn’t want to let us go. I saw that was our last chance to get through to her.

“Mom, wait. You know his name, right? He’s not Charlie Smith. What’s his real name? Who is he?” I said, my words rushed one after the other. I knew that we didn’t have much time left, and right in front of us, on a screen, was the only person who knew the truth.

“Olivia -” DuVall began to say in a warning tone.

“Your father…” my mother glanced at her husband nervously. Her composure was gradually dissolving in front of my very eyes.

“Olivia, we’ve discussed this.” DuVall said. His hand reached for the remote control by the console.

“Your father- ” my mother added hurriedly - “doesn’t care about you. He never has. He never will. He abandoned you a long time ago. You must let it go. You absolutely must.”

I noticed DuVall imperceptibly relax, as if he had expected my mother to reveal some shocking truth. Why won’t they tell us - what’s the big deal?

“If he doesn’t care about us …fine. But who is he? Why won’t you tell us?” I asked my mother.

“Taylor, there are things that you wouldn’t-”

“Your father is a known enemy of the Church and that is all you need to know. And he will never, ever want to have anything to do with you.” DuVall cut my mother short. As he stood up, I noticed that he slipped the remote control in his pocket.

“Is that true?” I asked my mother.

She glanced at DuVall and quickly nodded.

“And I’m afraid that you will now be declared Established Enemies too. No further contact with your mother will be allowed. You’ve made your choice.” DuVall added. I was sure that I saw something flash across my mother’s face. Resistance. Insubordination. Grief.

“Why? It doesn’t have to end this way…Mom?” I could see that my younger brother was fighting back tears as he pleaded with our mother not to abandon him again.

“Mom, we don’t want to be anyone’s enemies. We won’t …say anything about the Flock. We can still see each other, right?”

“If you’re not with us you’re against us, it’s very simple.” DuVall said, dryly.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Zac turned abruptly to our mother’s husband.

“Why can’t you think for yourself, why can’t you see what they’ve done to all of us. Maybe we could be a family by now, maybe our father would still be around.” Isaac stood up and spoke directly to my mother’s face on the screen.

“Isaac, I’m-”

She was gone - her face replaced by blackness.

“It looks like we’ve lost the connection. Time to go now, boys. I’ll have you escorted outside. You’re free to leave. Feel free to take any of those cookies home with you.” DuVall said.

“You cut her off! I saw you, you’ve got that remote control in your pocket. We didn’t even get to say goodbye!” I said.

“You said enough, Taylor.” DuVall said. “There’s nothing left to discuss.”

“Get our mother back on that screen, now.” I said. I didn’t even know why, but all I knew was that I wanted to see her again, to say goodbye to her. It can’t end like this. Not like this. It’s not his decision.

“Your mother’s left the building, kids. And now you will, too” DuVall said with a sneer. “The Outside awaits you.”

“Taylor, maybe it’s best if we go now.” Jesse said.

“Yes, Taylor, listen to your doctor boyfriend, go back to playing doctor and nurse with him.” DuVall laughed. Now that my mother was no longer present, he didn’t seem to care about being civil anymore. The façade had dropped, and this was the real Laurence DuVall - the man our mother had married and left us for.

“Let’s go Taylor. This isn’t worth it anymore.” Isaac said, getting up from his chair.

“Oh, I agree with you on this one, Isaac. It was always going to be an utter waste of time. I told your mother from the outset, but she insisted. She wanted to give her boys another chance. You don’t deserve it. You’re an embarrassment to the Church.” DuVall said.

“We’re an embarrassment?” I felt something rise inside of me. Rage, years of it.

Years of rage.

“Look at yourselves. He couldn’t even keep a girlfriend….” he pointed at Isaac.

“Right, I’ve had enough of this let’s go.” Isaac said, taking Zac by the arm. But our mother’s husband kept talking.

“…and Zac, I’m sorry but you were a complete disaster even when your eyes worked. You really were only good for changing dirty diapers.” he added, looking at my younger brother who was standing by his chair.

“Let’s go Taylor, now.” Isaac started to push me towards the door. But I was refusing to budge, and just stood there looking at DuVall, transfixed by the unravelling of self-possession that was taking place right in front of me. I waited with horrified fascination for what I knew was coming next, it was inevitable - I could almost hear the words before they rolled off his tongue - and as soon as I’d heard them in my head, real ones followed.

“And you, Taylor, well…” DuVall let out a little laugh. “You, admittedly, are quite good at something. Aren’t you Taylor?”

He walked up close, looking at me up and down, his lips parting slightly. I could smell his aftershave - a sickeningly familiar scent that I’d hoped I’d never have to smell ever again. He ran his finger from the open collar of my shirt, down towards my chest.

“…you were very good at your job, at least. Weren’t you? Always happy to oblige. We had some fun together, didn’t we, Taybaby?”

Somewhere behind me, I heard Isaac inhale sharply.

“What? Taylor, is that true?”

I wished I could deny it, but although my mouth was too dry to say it, it was the truth. I’d never kept many secrets from my brothers, but this was one of them. It had just been easier that way.

“Of course it is true.” DuVall said, in reply to Isaac’s question. “I guess he didn’t want his brothers to know that he enjoyed being his step daddy’s little bitch, right Taybaby?”

I opened my mouth to speak but before I could, Isaac’s hands were grabbing DuVall by the shoulders and pushing him just far enough to put a safe distance between the two of us, and the next thing I saw was my older brother’s fist making contact with our stepfather’s jaw.

I had never seen Isaac fight anyone before, and I felt a combination of gratitude and curiosity as I watched  DuVall lose his balance and stumble backwards, and once he was down, I saw my brother climb on top of him, straddling him, his fist rising and falling, falling and rising, the sound of knuckles meeting no resistance, until Jesse grabbed Isaac’s arms from behind and wrestled him away from our stepfather’s already swollen face.

And that’s when I noticed the remote control that had escaped DuVall’s pocket, and that was now lying in the middle of the floor. Before I could think of what I was doing, I picked it up and pressed the ‘on’ button. Simultaneously, all the screens in the room came back to life, and my mother’s horror-stricken face greeted me again from every side of the room, every screen a replica of her, silently sobbing in unison like a gruesome underwater choir, until her eyes moved to somewhere behind my shoulder. I turned around and saw what she saw, her husband lying on the floor, his face bloodied and swollen, still trapped between my brother’s legs. This is our family.

I turned back to the nearest screen again. My mother’s mouth was moving but there was no sound. I pointed at my ears with my index finger and shook my head. It was too late anyway. It had always been too late. I read my mother’s lips moving, mouthing I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

“I’m sorry too, mother.” I said, looking at those blue eyes that were almost identical to mine for one last time.

I turned around and stepped closer to DuVall, dropping the remote control beside him. I went over to Zac, put his arm over mine, and made our way to the door. “Ready, Ike?” I turned around and asked him just as he started to get up, climbing over DuVall’s legs carefully, as he didn’t want his own feet to touch our stepfather. Our mother’s eyes followed my brother as he stepped towards the door, expecting him to turn back and look at her. He didn’t.

I put my hand on the door handle, then stopped.

“Zac, if you want to say something to her, she can hear us. But we can’t hear her.” I said.

My brother shook his head.

Well, I guess we’ve said our goodbyes.

As we walked out of the Satellite Center and away from our mother, I felt a huge sense of relief washing over me. There were no secrets left to keep, no lies to fabricate in order to protect my brothers, my mother, myself. The officers, the Club, DuVall, Jesse, my brothers. They’d all seen all that there was left to see, my body and soul naked, stripped, exposed - it was all there now, right in front of them. I’d bared it all, down to the tiniest shred of skin and the smallest remnant of pride and the very last ounce of shame.

As the car sped away in the direction of the place we now called home, I leaned my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes.

No more secrets.

Chapter Text

After leaving the Satellite Center, DuVall and our mother, my mind was reeling. What had DuVall meant with his digs at Taylor and Jesse? What did he know? How come Jesse hadn’t seem bothered, as if what DuVall had said was a fact. Was it true? Was I the only idiot who didn’t know? I needed to find out, but I was scared of what the answer would be.

Earlier in the car, Taylor hadn’t said a word. He’d just gone quiet, and pretended he was asleep. When I put my hand on his shoulder, he brushed my fingers with his for a second or two, before his hand dropped back onto his lap. “Just let him be for a while.’ Isaac had said quietly.

By the time we arrived home, I was feeling really anxious. I knew I should be relieved that we had cut our ties with the Flock once and for all, and that we’d managed to get away from the Satellite Center. But although we were home, safe and sound, I was rattled by what I’d heard in that room. I couldn’t believe that Taylor had kept quiet about it in all these years. We could have told our mother - maybe she would have broken up with DuVall. Maybe that would have been a good enough reason to leave the Compound. Who knows, maybe we could have got out sooner, and by now we’d have a normal life here in the Outside - like a real family, with jobs and a home and… maybe I wouldn’t have got sick.

Things could have been so different, maybe I’d still have my eyesight.

Of course, I knew that, deep down, whatever Taylor had chosen to do, it would have been to protect us. But I didn’t think it was unreasonable to ask for an explanation. I need to hear it from him, I thought, preparing myself for an honest talk once we’d got home.

Unfortunately, my brother had other plans. We’d barely made it through the front door when he announced that he was going to take a bath. I went to follow him into the bathroom, but Isaac stopped me.

“I think he needs to be alone for a little while, Zac”.

“But I need to talk to him.”

“I know, but you can do that later. He obviously wants to be left alone right now. Why don’t I make us some food? Are you hungry?”

“Ike, I know what you’re doing - don’t try and change the subject.”

“I’m only asking if you’re hungry, Zac. We didn’t even have breakfast this morning.”

I was hungry - it wasn’t like me to go for hours on an empty stomach. But right now talking to my brother was a lot higher on my list of priorities. Although not on Taylor’s, I thought as I heard the bathroom door shut.

“Zac?”

“Huh?”

“Food. Want?” Isaac pulled my hair gently, the way he did when he wanted to get my attention. It was his way of saying ‘look at me’.

“Hmm. I guess so.”

“Phew. You had me worried for a moment. It’s not like you to refuse food”.

“Zac’s gone off food?” Jesse said as he walked into the kitchen. “Maybe DuVall did manage to brainwash you after all.” he added with a laugh.

“Don’t talk to me about that piece of shit.” I said.

“I’m… sorry Zac. That was in really bad taste. I shouldn’t have said that.” Jesse said.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” I said.

I don’t care about what you just said - are you sleeping with my brother though? That’s what I’d like to know.

“Who wants a sandwich then?” Isaac said.

“If you’re making…won’t say no.” Jesse said. “I’ll make some coffee. Taylor will no doubt like to have some after his bath.”

I inwardly flinched at Jesse’s remark. It was true, Taylor loved coffee. It was just the way Jesse’d said it, as if he knew Taylor so well that he was the one telling us our brother’s likes and dislikes, not the other way around.

He’s my brother, not yours. I caught myself thinking, instantly feeling ashamed of that thought. I’m jealous of Jesse. I finally realised. I’m jealous of the only friend we’ve ever had. He’s done so much for us and yet I’m jealous because Taylor likes him.

I’d never been jealous of Taylor before. Jealousy, as an emotion, just wasn’t part of my life. Taylor loved me, I loved him. The Compound had been, in many ways, the perfect self-contained world in which I had no rivals, no one to contend for my brother’s affections. It was a place that offered no choices other than what you already had, and that made life easier. Now I could see how the Outside was full of temptation - something that none of us had ever had to face before. Now, in the space of a few hours, I’d felt jealousy, guilt and shame. I don’t like myself very much right now, I thought as I sank down into a kitchen chair.

“Tomorrow I’m going to ring Hudson.” Jesse said, pulling a chair out and sitting down.

“Who’s Hudson?” Isaac asked.

“That eye surgeon I’d spoken to about Zac. One of the two I’d spoken to actually, but Hudson is based here in the city, he’s over at City General.”

“But if you’ve already spoken to him…” I said.

“I’ve spoken to him, but now I want to book a consultation.” Jesse continued. “If he wants to run some tests, we’ll go ahead, and then we’ll be one hundred percent sure if there’s really nothing that can be done. Okay?”

“But…Jesse, that’s going to cost a lot of money…” I said.

“Yeah, it will.”

“So…how are we going to pay for it?” I felt so bad. Just moments earlier I was wallowing in my jealousy toward Jesse, and now he was once again talking about ways to help us. To help me.

“I’ll dig into my savings, and if that’s not enough, well, there are always credit cards.” Jesse said. He sounded dead serious.

“I’m not sure Jesse. I can’t ask you to do that for me.  The doctor already said that there’s nothing they can do. So it would be a waste of money.”

“He did say that, yes, but until he’s seen you, and until he’s run some tests… we can’t be completely certain. And I don’t want to be the one responsible for taking that opportunity away from you, Zac. That would be a lot worse than wasting a whole load of cash on some tests.”

“So, do you think DuVall was telling the truth about the operation?” Isaac said, putting a plate in front of me before he sat down.

“Absolutely not.” Jesse said. “He was bluffing it. The question is not ‘is there an operation that can save Zac’s eyes’ - because there isn’t. It’s more a case of making sure that your condition is what it is. That you get a correct diagnosis. Does that makes sense?”

“I think so.” I said.

I ate quietly, while Jesse and Isaac talked about what had happened at the Satellite Center. I didn’t want to go over everything that had been said or done. I’d seen, well, heard my mother. I resented the fact that she hadn’t really been there, that I hadn’t been allowed to touch her or hug her. My mother had never been very affectionate with me, and I doubt that she would have been any different today. But I’d have welcomed the chance to hold her, even for a couple of seconds; to touch her face and remind myself of what she looked like. Since I’d got sick, my memory of her had faded, and sometimes, despite my trying, all that my mind could conjure up was an approximate sketch at best. There were moments - usually when I least expected it - when my mother’s face appeared to me in absolute clarity, as if I had just seen her seconds earlier; when I could remember every line and freckle on her face, the exact shade of her hair colour. But those moments were rare, and would no doubt become rarer, still. The person at the Satellite Center wasn’t really my mother. It was a disembodied voice transmitted over the bluish light of a screen.

I lost my mother again today, and this time it’s for good.

Would I miss her? She’d moved out when I was still only a kid.  My brothers had acted like parents to me, picking up from where she’d left off after marrying DuVall. And yet, she was still my mom. Hearing her voice again had re-awakened feelings I thought I’d got over. She was still my mom, and I still loved her.

It took a while for Taylor to finally emerge from the bathroom, his arrival announced by the sound of damp, naked feet on the floorboards.

“Hey.” he said.

“Feel better now?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah.” my brother said. He poured himself a cup of coffee and walked over to the kitchen table, gently brushing the back of my neck as he took a seat next to me, the scent of bubble bath and shampoo trailing behind him. We sat in silence for a few moments - while I thought of the way to broach the subject.

“Well, I guess you guys might want some time to talk alone. I might go and grab a shower now. too.” Jesse said finally.

“You don’t have to leave the room, Jesse.” Taylor said.

“I thought you’d -”

“Anything I say to my brothers, you can hear too.”

“All right…”

We all fell silent again. This isn’t going well, I thought.

“Tay, it’s ok if you don’t feel like talking, you know?” Isaac said, after a while.

“I know.”

We waited, all of us clearly wondering whether my brother wanted to talk, or if we were just going sit there and stare at each other. I was getting impatient.

“I guess I owe you an explanation.” my brother finally said.

“You don’t owe us anything, Tay.” Isaac said.

“You don’t really think that, Ike.”

“Yes, I do. You want to tell us about what went on with DuVall, great - maybe things need to be aired out once and for all, but you don’t owe it to us. I have no doubt that if you decided to keep some things to yourself, you had your reasons.” Isaac added.

“You had no choice, Tay.” I said, relieved that the conversation had been started, but keen to show Taylor that I shared Isaac’s sensible attitude. “If he threatened you then-”

“He didn’t threaten me.”

“So…why didn’t you say something? Maybe we could’ve …I don’t know,…we could have told Mom!” I said, my words pouring out of me and sweeping away all my good intentions.

“Zac!”

“It’s fine, Ike. Zac, I didn’t tell you because” my brother paused. “I was ashamed.”

“Ashamed of what?” I blurted out. “He made you do it, it’s not like you wanted to …sleep with him!”

“I know Zac, but…things aren’t always so black and white. When it first started…I was…I couldn’t bear the idea of any of you finding out. Then, as I got older, then yes, I could see that it wasn’t right, but at that point, what could you have done? Seriously?”

“So…when did it…um…” Isaac asked.

“Oh, pretty much when I started to be called upstairs at the Club House. One day I walked into the bedroom and there he was. And I remember that I was so glad, because I thought he’d come to take me home - mom had just started to see him, remember? I thought she’d sent him to get me. But …” my brother let out a short, bitter laugh. “Nope.”

My chest tightened as I remembered what Isaac had told me back at the camp, the night when we waited for Taylor. I remembered how stupid I’d felt back then, thinking that I’d been completely oblivious to my brother’s pain for all those years.

“Tay, why didn’t you tell Mom?” I asked.

My brother exhaled in frustration.

“What exactly was I going to tell her, Zac? Hey Mom, by the way, I’m fucking your boyfriend?”

“But you were only a kid! He was using you. He was in the wrong, it’s not like you wanted it!” I said.

“But…that’s the thing, Zac, that’s not how it works.” he said, sounding almost …amused. Amused at my naivety.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean that he made me feel that I…” my brother sighed, steeling himself. “…that I’d asked for it. He’d say things like ‘I’ve seen how you look at me’ and, well, much worse stuff than that. How you and Isaac and mom would be ashamed of me if you’d find out that I was coming on to him.”

“You were coming on to him? What the fuck, Tay, you were a kid!” Isaac burst out.

“That’s textbook abuser emotional blackmail, Ike.” Jesse said. “Making their victim feel like they’re the ones who did something wrong. It’s mind games.”

“Yeah, well, that's kinda how it went, and I believed him, or at least, I was confused and I didn’t want you to find out. And then the longer it went on, the more he had on me. Because…” I could hear my brother struggle to carry on. “Because you know, when you’re in that position, you have to make yourself like it, you know what I mean?”

“I guess so.” I admitted, dismayed at the thought of my brother having had to psych himself up to have sex with our stepfather. I understood that he’d had to, that there would have been no other way: but I couldn’t deny my own shock and revulsion at the thought of my brother having to force his body to respond to DuVall’s touch in the same way as it responded to my touch. Did he have to imagine that it was me stroking him, that it was my mouth he felt over his skin instead of DuVall’s?

I really was an idiot. How did I think my brother had done that job for years on end? Of course, he must have learned all sorts of tricks to keep going. Tricks that I didn’t really want to know.

“I can’t believe that DuVall did that to you. I never liked him but…I didn’t expect …that.” Isaac said, sounding utterly dejected.

“How long did that go on for, Tay?” Jesse asked, softly. I thought I could see movement, as if he’d put his hand over my brother’s arm.

“It never really stopped, although it happened less frequently. DuVall likes them young.” My brother let out a hollow laugh. “So eventually he moved on to the new recruits. But every now and then he’d still pay me a visit. Right until the end. By then he used different tactics, because of course, I’d figured out that actually, I’d never asked for any of that, and he knew that that I knew what his game was so… he started to make veiled threats - about what could happen to you both, about how they could split us up.  Anyway, by then what difference was it going to make, he was just another officer taking his share - everybody else was, why not him?”

I slowly took in what my brother had just said - people taking their share .  I thought back of when we were still both teens, at how greedy I’d been at times - growing up, having just discovered sex and the apparently endless supply of it - in the form of my brother. There must have been times when the last thing my brother wanted was …that. When he’d sneak into bed, late at night, trying not to wake me. Usually I’d wake up, and I’d try to make the most of that small window of time we had before I’d have to be up for school, training, then later on, work at the Children Center. He almost always gave into my desperate need for his attention.

My chest tightened with guilt now, knowing that I’d been too demanding on my brother; that, in a way, I’d used him too, just like everybody else had.

Everybody apart from Isaac. Isaac had always just been there for Taylor, to hold him in his arms after a bad night, providing comfort but never asking for anything back.

I was just a selfish little brat. And now there’s nothing I can do to make things better.

“What do you think is going to happen now that your mom knows?” Jesse asked. “I mean, she didn’t know, right? Judging by how upset she looked when you turned the screen back on.”

“What do you mean, what did she look like?” I asked.

“She was crying, Zac. The sound and picture were still on at her end. She definitely didn’t know about me and DuVall, although I’m not sure if it would have made much difference if she had, at that point. She knew what was going on at the Club House, but she never acknowledged it.”

“She couldn’t have stopped that, Tay - you know that.” Isaac said. “But maybe she wouldn’t have gone as far as marrying one of the guys who fucked her teenage son.”

“No, maybe not.” Taylor said. “It doesn’t matter anymore now, anyway. It’s over. I don’t care what she does. He’ll probably tell her that it was all my fault - just like he had me believe that. She’s…she’s not going to want to lose her status - she’s married to one of Frobisher’s best buddies, lives in one of the nicest residences…”

My brother’s voice trailed off. He said he didn’t care about what our mother was going to do now, but I didn’t believe that for a second. He’d seen her cry, which meant that maybe there still was a shred of love for us somewhere in her Flock-processed mind. And now I couldn’t help wondering what she would do. Would she stay married to him? Could she go to bed with him, would she still have sex with him, knowing that whatever they did in bed, he had also done it with my brother?

“Is there not going to be anyone she can report him to?” Jesse asked. “Like, a leader?”

“Report him for what? Most of them do it.” Taylor said.

“So, most men within your Compound are child abusers?” Jesse asked.

“No, most of the officers are…ruthless. I don’t know, call them whatever you want to call them. They can get away with stuff that none of the normal members can. Some of them would just come to the Club House to drink, but they all covered each other’s back anyway. You don’t become an Officer if you don’t suck up to people like DuVall, and you’re not going to keep your stripes if you rat out on someone.”

“That’s just …sick though. I do wonder how a place like that is allowed to even exist. People in the real world - ‘The Outside’, as you call it, would be locked up for that kind of stuff. I just…don’t understand how the authorities don’t do anything.” Jesse said.

“The authorities probably don’t know.” Isaac said.

“Yeah, how would they know? It’s not like anyone ever gets to leave.  I’d heard of a few people trying to but then they always come back, and they’ll beg not to be made Established Enemies, and end up spending years as RTCs.” Taylor said.

“There was something DuVall said - about our father. Remember? They said that he’s an Established Enemy of the Church. I wonder what they meant?” I said.

“Yeah, that was..interesting.” Isaac said.

“Maybe he tried to stop your mom when she took you away from him. Maybe he called the cops or something like that.” Jesse suggested.

“What makes you think that she took us away from him? She clearly said he’d abandoned us.” I said. As soon as I did, I realised that I sounded as if I was jumping to my mother’s defence.

“Well, yes. That’s what your mom said but…that’s her version of the events. You must admit that so far your mother hasn’t been the most reliable witness in the whole story. She takes her three kids into a cult, gets brainwashed, pretends not to know that her teenage son is having to work in a brothel, and fails to notice the fact that her own husband has been sexually abusing him for years too. I don’t know about you but personally, I would take anything your mother says with a pinch of salt.”

“True.” Isaac said.

“It doesn’t matter now. We’re never going to find out. I just want to forget this whole thing, move on. Hopefully now they’ll leave us alone.” Taylor said.

“Especially after the beauty treatment your stepdad got from Isaac. I bet those bodyguards are gonna get fired today. ” Jesse said.

“I’m not proud of that. I just lost it.”

“Do you guys think- ” my stomach suddenly tightened into a knot.

I really hope I’m wrong.

“Think what, Zac?” Taylor said.

“You don’t think Mom’s going to get into trouble for what Ike did to him, do you? Like, DuVall won’t take it out on her, right?”

The idea that maybe DuVall could hurt our mom because of what Isaac had done to him filled me with dread.

“Jesus, would he be that big an arsehole?” Jesse said.

“Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.” Isaac said.

“Tay, what do you think?” I asked.

“I don’t think he’d hurt her, Zac. He’s an asshole, but I don’t think he’s ever hit her, and he’s not an idiot. He has nothing to gain from it. He’ll probably tell her that she’s having a problem handling her human essence or something along those lines and get her to attend some advanced processing sessions.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” I said.

“Extra training - that’s usually the answer.” Isaac said.

“Usually. But not always. There’s also the Detox Center.” I said.

“They’re not going to send her to the Detox Center, Zac.” Taylor said. “She hasn’t done anything. There’s nothing to detox.”

“I hadn’t done anything either.” I pointed out.

“But it was different, Zac. It was complicated…and different.”

“I know. I hope so.” I said.

“Please don’t worry. She’s going to be fine. She knows what she’s doing, and she knows how to handle DuVall.” Taylor grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I squeezed his hand back, hoping that I could somehow convey all those things I wanted to say to my brother through the tips of my fingers.

That I was sorry about being too needy and insensitive when we were kids - sorry for wanting my share of him, like everybody else.

And that I was sorry for failing to see the signs of what was happening with our stepfather.

And then, there was the nagging question, one that just wouldn’t go away.

Are you in love with Jesse?

“Zac?” My brother squeezed my hand again. “She’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Please don’t worry anymore.”

“You’re right…I’m sorry.” I said, steering my thoughts back to our mother.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Taylor planted a kiss to my temple and got up.

“Where are you going?”

“Far away. Far, far away, all the way to the fridge, Zac.” He said, laughing. “Am I allowed?”

“No.” I said, jokingly grabbing a my brother’s wrist to stop him. He humoured me for a few seconds, opposing no resistance.

“Can I go now?” he said after a few moments.

“Sure.” I said, releasing my grip.

“Thank you.” My brother said, ruffling my hair.

And that was Taylor, already acting normal, already having moved on, busying himself with saucepans as he opened the kitchen cupboards, searching for ingredients to make us dinner. His own worries already seemed many miles away, part of a past that no longer mattered to him. That was my brother Taylor all over - focused again on more pressing issues, the way he had always been through years of habit, and family chores, and dinners to plan.

It suddenly occurred to me that maybe I’d never known what Taylor really thought, what his real hopes and fears were. Did he even have any, beyond the day-to-day surviving that had defined most of our lives until then?

I’d never really asked him, partly because we were brought up to accept the present and never question the future, but also partly because I thought I had all the answers. That all my brother wanted was for things to carry on as they were, to come home to me and Isaac, to share a bed with me at night, and to wake up and do it all over again the next day. That kind of life was all I’d known.

What if now he wanted more?

——

I lay on my back, trying to settle down to sleep in my usual position, nestled between my brothers - the safest, most comforting place I knew. Usually I only needed to rest my head on the pillow and I’d be gone in seconds, but several minutes had passed since we’d turned the light off and still I was wide awake, my mind relentlessly replaying DuVall’s snidey ‘boyfriend’ comments from earlier. As much as I tried to let it go, my thoughts kept torturing me.

Minutes dragged on. I was restless. But I had a feeling that my brothers were just pretending to be asleep. They were probably as unsettled by the day we’ve had as I was; maybe it was a good time to just clear the air, once and for all.

Unsure of what to do, I listened out for signs that confirmed my brothers weren’t asleep. I didn’t really want to wake them up, although I was tempted. Until Taylor turned to one side, facing the edge of the bed. Then I knew he had to be awake.

“Tay?”

I waited a few seconds for his reply.

“Tay?” I asked again.

“What is it, Zac?” my brother’s voice was weary.

“Tay, we need to talk about something.” I blurted out.

“I’m trying to sleep, Zac, we can talk tomorrow.”

“You’re not sleeping, you’re awake like me.”

“I was drifting off.”

“No you weren’t.”

“What’s going on with you two?” Isaac said, irritated. “I was almost asleep.”

“But you weren’t! None of us can sleep!” I said.

“How can I sleep when you’re trying to talk to me…!” Taylor said.

I felt Isaac’s hand on my shoulder.

“What’s going on Zac?” he said, the irritation now gone from his voice.

“I’ve got to talk to Tay. I can’t sleep, and he can’t either, and we’re all thinking the same thing but nobody is saying anything.”

Taylor huffed. The mattress sunk as he turned to my side.

“All right, talk. You get what you want, as usual.”

“Tay, don’t be like that.” Isaac said.

“It’s just that it’s….what, two in the morning? I’m tired, Ike, I can’t sleep but I’m exhausted, it’s been a really hard day and now Zac wants to talk?”

“Why not now? When are we going to talk? Tomorrow? When you’re back at the hospital with Jesse?”

I felt my brother move next to me again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that you have time to talk to him when he’s driving you to the hospital, when you’re on a break… but we don’t get time to talk anymore.”

“That’s not true, Zac.” Isaac said.

“That’s totally not true. Most of the time we don’t get a chance to talk because you have …other things in mind, Zac.” Taylor said. “Then you roll over and fall asleep.”

“Not always.” I protested, rather feebly. I had to admit to myself that Taylor was right: whenever I had a chance to be alone with my brothers, I put it to good use.

“Almost always. Anyway, what’s bothering you? You might as well spit it out now that we’re all awake.” Taylor said.

I hesitated a couple of seconds.

“It’s about Jesse. And you.” I said, eventually.

There was another pause before my brother spoke.

“What about Jesse and me?”

“Is it true? What DuVall said?” I said.

“What?” Taylor sounded surprised.

“DuVall - he kept calling Jesse ‘your boyfriend’. And you didn’t try to correct him, and neither did Jesse.”

My brother made a sound that was something in between laughter and disbelief.

“Zac, he was just …trying to push our buttons. There’s…- I can’t believe that you even took anything he said seriously.”

“But why didn’t you deny it then, or Jesse?”

“Because - that wasn’t even why we were there! I wasn’t going to discuss my personal life with….DuVall? Of all people? Are you serious?”

“All right, well, you can discuss it with me then, right? Are you and Jesse…” I took a deep breath. Now was the moment to ask the question, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear the answer.

“Are you and Jesse…sleeping together?”

“What? No! I’m not - we’re not! Why are you saying that, Zac?”

“Because you clearly like him, and he likes you.”

“Of course I like him, we all do!”

“Yeah but…not in the same way, Tay. Come on. I might be blind but I’m not stupid. I hear the way he talks to you. And how you sound when you talk to him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Zac. There’s nothing going on between us. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

I knew my brother well enough to be able to tell when he was lying and when he wasn’t, and he sounded sincere.

“Okay, I believe you.” I said.

“Good, can I go to sleep now?”

I believed my brother when he said he wasn’t sleeping with Jesse. But there was a certain edge in his voice, a defensiveness that just didn’t sit right with me, and which lead to another question with another potentially uncomfortable answer.

“Tay, are you attracted to Jesse?” I said in one big breath.

“What? Zac, come on, this is crazy…” my brother protested.

“It’s a simple question, Taylor. Yes or no?”

“Zac, leave him alone.” Isaac said.

“Tay, just tell me, yes or no.”

My brother hesitated and for a moment I wished I could take it all back and retreat into my ignorance. Would I want to know? Would knowing make me feel any better? I opened my mouth to say forget it, I was kidding but it was to late.

“I guess so, yes. I’m attracted to him. He’s attractive - I mean not just physically. As a person. But yeah, he’s very good-looking, isn’t he, Ike?”

“Um, yeah, I guess so.” Isaac said, putting his arm around me.

“Right.” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“But it doesn’t mean anything, Zac. Nothing’s going to happen. And it’s not as if he’s interested in me - he’s not into guys, remember? He told us about his ex-fiancee.” Taylor said.

He might not be into guys, I thought, but he sure seems to be into my brother. No, the fact that Jesse had mentioned an ex-girlfriend didn’t reassure me at all. After all, Isaac had girlfriends and yet…now he was with me.

“So, seriously Zac, are you going to stop worrying about this?” Taylor said, in that motherly tone that he’d used when we were kids, when I couldn’t sleep because I was afraid of monsters hiding under the bed and bugs crawling over my face and into my open mouth in my sleep.

“You know Tay, Zac has a point.”

I turned to face my older brother. I didn’t expect him to say that.

“What? Ike, not you as well, please….” Taylor pleaded.

“Well … Jesse acts different around you. Like… you can do no wrong. And he’s always looking at you.”

Taylor shifted slightly next to me.

“I never noticed that.” he said. “I’m sure it’s not what you think, though.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked.

“It might explain a lot of things, actually…” Isaac added, as if he had just connected various pieces together.

“What things?” Taylor said.

“Us being here in the first place. I still can’t believe how he was so ready to…rescue us. Maybe he wanted to find a way to keep you close by.”

That possibility had never really occurred to me, but now that Isaac had mentioned it, it made sense.

“He’s a good guy, Isaac, that’s why he took us in.” Taylor snapped. “I don’t know how you can question that.”

“I’m not questioning it, and I don’t doubt that he really wanted to help us. But maybe part of him wanted to find a way to …see you again. Let’s face it, we were never going to be able to hang out with him if we’d stayed at the camp.”

Taylor went quiet. I wondered if was surprised, or if, deep down, what Isaac had just said was what my brother wanted to hear all the way along - that maybe Jesse just wanted to be with him.

“Tay?” I asked.

My heart was beating frantically as I asked the question that had been on the tip of my tongue for so long.

“What?”Taylor sighed.

“Say that Jesse changed his mind and decided he liked guys. Just pretend. Would you sleep with him?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

My brother was silent again for a few seconds that felt so long I nearly asked him again. But in the end, I didn’t need to.

“Yeah. Yes, I guess I would.”

In that moment I felt as if I’d been punched in the chest - a kick against my ribcage pushing out all the air that was left in my lungs. It really was no surprise, but inside me I’d still harboured a little glimmer of hope that maybe I’d got it all wrong. Isaac’s arm tightened around me; I wondered if Taylor’s answer had taken him by surprise, too.

“I see.” I said when I got my breath back.

“I’m just saying, hypothetically, Zac. You asked me. It’s not going to happen.”

“Hypothetically.”

“Yeah, Zac, hypothetically, all right? You asked me, and I gave you my honest answer. And now, of course, you’re upset. I don’t know what else to do for you, Zac. What do you want from me?” Taylor said, suddenly sitting up.

“I just wanted to know, that’s all.”

“Why? Why do you want to know about something that hasn’t happened and that is not going to happen? Just to make me feel bad? What the fuck, Zac - am I not even allowed to look at another guy?”

“Tay, come on, don’t yell at him now.” Isaac said.

“I’m not yelling, Ike.” Taylor said, still lowering his voice. “It’s just that - I haven’t done anything wrong so why is Zac trying to make me feel bad? What else do I need to do for you, Zac?”

“Nothing - I didn’t say I wanted you to do anything! I just wanted to know the truth, and now I know how you feel about him!” I snapped back.

“What truth? As if I’ve lied to you about something?”

“Well, you didn’t want to admit to it.”

“Because it’s pointless, nothing’s going to happen! How many times do I have to tell you!”

“But you like someone else, Tay! This has never happened before! You like someone else and what if something does happen with Jesse, you don’t know, he obviously likes you…what if you end up sleeping with him and you like him, and you fall in love with him?” I said.

My brother exhaled and I heard the faint noise of the back of his head hitting the sideboard. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, collected.

“Zac, that is never going to happen. With other people… it can never be the same. You don’t know that, but I do. You’ve got to trust me on that.”

“He’s right, you know?” Isaac said, his cheek now pressed against my temple.

It was easy to forget that my older brother had a sex life long before things had happened between us. It was strange to imagine him with a girl - and yet he’d had quite a few unsanctioned relationships. I’d never had any interest in anyone other than Taylor and, more recently, Isaac. I couldn’t imagine being so close to a stranger; the idea of taking my clothes off in front of anyone other than my brothers was embarrassing. The thought of being naked in bed with anyone else made me shudder and as for touching someone’s private parts…well, that was just disgusting.

“It’s not the same, Zac.” my brother insisted.

“It’s easy for the two of you to say. I wouldn’t know, and let’s face it, I’m never going to find out, either. Who’s gonna want me?” I said, determined to play up my disadvantage.

“It’s easy for you to say? Zac, do you have any idea of what you just said? Seriously, do you think it’s been easy for me to get fucked from every possible angle by half of the male population at the Compound?”

“Tay, I didn’t mean it like that- ”

“…do you think I enjoyed giving blow jobs to complete strangers I picked up on the streets? Are you fucking kidding me, Zac?”

“Come on Tay, that’s not what he meant.”

“Well maybe he needs to start thinking before he speaks! How about just for once - just once Zac - you put yourself into my shoes, uh?”

“Tay-”

“You know what Zac, pretty much all I’ve done in my life has been for other people. I’ve put up with my job at the Club House so that we could afford a few privileges here and there. I kept DuVall sweet year after year because I was terrified that he’d take it out on all of us. I went out on the streets selling my ass for money, so that we had enough to eat. So excuse me if at least on a fantasy level I say that I might like to know what it’s like to go with an Outsider who isn’t actually trying to use me!”

My brother pushed off the covers and got up. “Tay…” I called out to him as he stormed off.

The bathroom door slammed shut; I heard him turn the faucets on; water running, stifled curses.

“Tay, come on…” I called again. “I’m sorry.”

“Give him a moment. I’ll go and speak to him, ok?” Isaac said.

“I didn’t mean to say that he - I mean I know that what he did, he did it for us.”

I was mortified. I’d not only pushed my brother into a corner, forcing him to answer a question about something that would probably never happen, but I’d also made him mad, and managed to prove to him that I was an ungrateful little shit, after all.

I sat up alone in our empty bed as Isaac knocked on the bathroom door. He didn’t wait for Taylor to say he could come in, and soon the door was opened and then shut again. I heard my brothers’ hushed voices, making out only a few words here and there. I imagined Isaac making excuses for me again - he didn’t mean it Tay, come back to bed, Tay.

And no, I hadn’t meant any of that - the last thing I’d wanted was to upset my brother. What was I thinking? What did I think I was going to achieve by extracting that kind of confession from him? I’m such an idiot, I couldn’t stop telling myself, as I sat by myself, hugging my knees.

Finally the bathroom door clicked open, followed by the sound of naked feet, and the mattress sinking from the weight of my brothers as they climbed back into bed.

“Tay I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” I began to say.

“It’s okay Zac, I know. It’s just…it’s been a long day.”

My brother pulled me close to him and we lay down, our faces almost touching. I could smell his breath and the scent of his skin.

I forced myself to imagine someone else in my place right now - DuVall, an officer, a random stranger from the City. Taylor was right, I really had no idea.

We lay in silence for a while - my fingers curled around the ribbed neck of his t-shirt, while, behind me, I could feel Isaac’s heart beating, his chest pressed against by back.

This is nice, I thought.

I began to drift off, when Taylor inhaled sharply, as if he was about to say something.

“Zac.”

“Hmm?”

“About Jesse…”

“Yeah?” I said, my heart suddenly beating faster.

“I’d just like to know what it’s like.”

“What is it like sleep with him?”

“What is like to have sex with someone who cares about me. Someone other than my own brother.”

Someone other than me. I let my brother’s words sink in slowly.

“That’s…understandable, Tay.” Isaac said.

“I’ve never…never been attracted to anyone else before. Jesse is different. I can’t help myself thinking of what it’d be like.”

“I think…I understand.” I said. That wasn’t quite true, but I thought that maybe if I said it out loud I’d start believing it.

“Thank you.”

My brother wrapped his fingers around my hand. I sensed that he’d closed his eyes now. Now that the truth was out, he could relax.

Suddenly, a thought came into my head.

“Tay?”

“Hhhm?”

“You know, there’s someone else who cares about you in this room, and you haven’t slept with him, either.”

“Zac-” my brother said.

“Please Zac, not now.” Isaac groaned behind me.

“I know it’s not the same as Jesse, I know Jesse is someone else. I get it and it’s okay, honestly.” I said, rushing to make my point. “But I love both of you. And now that I get to be with both of you, I don’t know, it’s different. And that’s something I know that you don’t - you haven’t tried that, Tay.”

“No, you’re right, I haven’t.”

He didn’t sound mad. Well, I thought, that’s a start.

“Zac, the last thing Taylor needs now is to be told to do something else he doesn’t want to.” Isaac said.

“Wait, I never said that I don’t want it.”

“Tay, you don’t have to say that.” my older brother said, after a couple of seconds. “I’m not…I’m okay with the way things are. I don’t need anything more from you. I don’t know what’s got into your head, lately, Zac.”

I didn’t know why my brother sounded so surprised. Things had already been more intimate between the two of them anyway - I’d encouraged that at every given opportunity. I felt it, I knew that if they loved each other the way they loved me, it was only a matter of time.

“I just want us to really be together, in the same way, Ike.” I said.

Behind me, Isaac shifted uncomfortably.

“And we will Zac.” Taylor said softly. “When we’re ready.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“Ike?”

My brother sighed and turned to lie on his back. I turned to face him.

“Ike?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, as long as you let me get some sleep now.”

I kissed both my brothers goodnight, and closed my eyes. I knew that it would all work out now. Maybe Taylor needed to experience the touch of a stranger - and Jesse was a good person, and he wouldn’t hurt my brother.

But he was still a stranger. I knew that, when it finally happened, Taylor would feel the same way I did when I first tasted Isaac’s lips, that first time when I felt the weight of his body on mine. I knew that he’d feel the same, because there was no reason for him not to. I knew it would feel like home. And once that happened, our bond would be even stronger, and no stranger could come between us. My brother would soon realise that everything he’d ever wanted had always been there for him.

Soon, I thought to myself as I finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

We were still eating breakfast where someone knocked at the door. 

“Why won’t they use the doorbell?” Jesse groaned as he got up.

“It’s ok Jesse, I’ll go.” I said, putting my fork down. Taylor had made us a huge breakfast of egg, bacon and pancakes. It was becoming quite a rare occasion for all of us to be home at the same time, and when it happened, we tried to make the most of it.

I opened the door to find a man and a woman standing in front of me. They were dressed in formal business suits and sported a blue rosette on their jackets. 

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Good morning!” the man said. “My name is Brandon Derby and this is Maria Springfield. We’re canvassing your neighbourhood on behalf of Charlton McCallister, Republic Restoration Party Presidential Candidate for CANAAN. I hope this is a convenient time?” he said, peering behind my shoulders.

“Erm, yes, well, we were actually in the middle of breakfast. What is this about?” 

“Oh we won’t keep you long, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” the woman grinned, exposing incredibly white teeth. 

“We’re just here to ensure that all residents in your neighbourhood take up the unique opportunity offered by democracy, and cast their vote today!” the man said.

“Erm-”

“Have you voted yet, sir?” the woman asked.

“N-no, not yet, we- I, as I said we’re in the middle of having breakfast, if you don’t mind…”

“Everything okay, Ike?” Jesse appeared behind me. He took one look at the couple. “Oh I see. I thought we’d been spared the canvassers.”

 The man’s lips twisted into a forced smile. 

“We’re just here to make sure that everybody exercises their right to vote, Mr….?”

“Adams. Doctor Adams.”

“Doctor Adams. Have you voted today?”

“No, and I won’t be voting, as I’m not a CANAAN citizen. But my…housemates are.” he said, making a vague gesture at me and at the room behind us. “So we’re happy to take whatever leaflets you have if you let us go back to our breakfast.”

“Sure! Here’s a leaflet which clearly outlines the Republican Restoration manifesto, and here -” she said, flipping the leaflet over “here’s a personal profile of Charlton McCallister, our Presidential Candidate for CANAAN.” The woman’s eyes lit up as she glanced down at the Candidate’s photograph. It was a look I knew only too well, a look of feverish devotion. She reminded me the trainers back at the Compound, how their faces came alive at the mention of the Shepherd, even if none of them had ever met him in person. I wondered if the woman who stood in front of me had ever met the Presidential Candidate? 

Jesse glanced at the leaflet and handed it to me.

“Here you go. I’m sure Taylor will read it from cover to cover. I’ll drop you off to the polling station later if you want.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking Sir, how many in your household are CANAAN citizens?” the man asked.

I looked at Jesse. Were we CANAAN citizens? I honestly wasn’t sure.

“Three. And yes, I will make sure that they perform their citizen duty and vote. I’ll take them to the polling station myself and won’t leave until they’ve crossed that box. Are we done now?” Jesse said, curtly.

 “We’ll be out of your way, Doctor Adams, and thank you for your time. Can Senator McAllister count on your vote, sir?” The man asked me.

“Erm, well I don’t know much about it, I’m going to have to read up I guess.” 

The truth was that although there had been electoral posters everywhere, I’d hardly paid any attention to the campaign. Taylor, on the other hand, was following it closely. He’d even been watching all the talk shows and televised debates between this McAllister guy and the current woman president. 

“I’m sure Taylor will tell you all about the campaign.” Jesse said, before turning to the canvassers again. “Now if you don’t mind…” 

“Sure. Have a nice day sir. Vote Senator Mc-” the man was still saying as Jesse slammed the door shut.

“Bloody hell, these people are hard to get rid of.” 

“They seem really desperate for votes.” I said.

“Well it’s going to be a close call, according to what the media are saying. LeClerq has a lot of supporters here in the north.” 

“I heard you talk about the elections, who was it at the door?” Taylor asked as we sat back down at the kitchen table.

“Just some party minions canvassing. It’s Election Day.”

“I know, we’re going to vote, right?” Taylor said, excitedly.

“You can. I’ll take you if you want.” Jesse put a forkful of food in his mouth.

“Here Tay, they gave us a leaflet.” I said, sliding the bit of paper on the table towards my brother.

“I don’t understand this election thing. What am I supposed to do again?” Zac said. 

“There are two main political parties Zac, and you vote for one of their elected candidates. President LeClerq is running again for the United Democracy and then there’s Senator McAllister who is running from the Republican Restoration.” Jesse smiled as Taylor delivered his political lesson to our youngest brother. 

“Senator McWhatever, is that the guy that Isaac says reminds him of one of the officers?”

“Yeah, although I still have no idea of who he means.” Taylor said.

“He just reminds me of someone, that’s all.”

“So, are we supposed to vote for him?” Zac said, stabbing several layers of food with his fork, then proceeded to shove them in his mouth.

“Well, personally I think he’s a much better option than the current President. Right, Jesse?” Taylor asked.

“Firing a staple gun to your balls would a better option than seeing LeClerq re-elected.” Jesse said.

I almost spat out my food laughing. “That bad?”

“It’s thanks to LeClerq that you ended up in a tent city. The Exodus is all her doing. If she’s allowed to carry on, sooner or later no males under the age of 50 will be able to find work. Her utopian ideas are very noble but don’t work in real life.”

“So…is the other candidate going to change all that?” I asked.

“Charlton McCallister is going to reverse the quotas policy to pre-CANAAN levels.” Taylor rattled off.

“Well. There you go.” Jesse said.“You have the new official party spokesman sitting right in front of you.” 

“I’m just interested, that’s all.” Taylor said, defensively. “We never had a say in who was in charge at the Compound. It seems almost too good to be true to be able to actually give your opinion.”

“What if you don’t have an opinion?” Zac said. “Do you still have to vote?”

“No…you don’t have to. A lot of people don’t. But…you have the right to do so and it seems a shame to waste it. That’s just how I see it though.” Jesse said.

“So if this senator wins, are things going to get better? Like…all those people in the camp. Is he going to fix it?” Zac asked.

“He says he will. I wouldn’t hold my breath though. The current state of the economy is dire, and you can’t just put a band-aid over it and hope that that’ll do. Besides, politicians tend to make promises that they can’t keep. So really, you vote for the candidate you mistrust the least, and hope for the best.”

“It doesn’t seem such a good system.” I said.

“That’s democracy for you. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best system we’ve got, all considering.”

“It’s got to be better than having a leader like Frobisher who’s going to stay in power until he dies. Or until someone decides to kill him.” Taylor said.

“Who appointed the leaders in the Flock, anyway?” Jesse asked.

“I’m not sure. Frobisher has been in charge since I can remember.” Taylor frowned. “Ike?”

I had no idea. Since we were children, we’d grown up with Frobisher’s presence; his portrait, framed next to a portrait of The Shepherd, was affixed on every wall in every classroom, office and private residence at the Compound. The leader had always been Frobisher since all of us we could remember. Had there been others before? I wasn’t sure.

“I think it was The Shepherd who nominated him as his successor before he died.” Taylor said.

“Frobisher can’t be removed from his position as leader unless he commits an infraction and the Supreme Council votes to remove him.” Zac said, with his mouth still full.

We all looked at my brother.

“How do you know that?” Taylor asked.

“When I worked at the Club House, remember? They assigned me to cleaning the library for a while. I used to open the books and read a few pages here and there in between dusting the shelves. To keep myself from dying of boredom.” 

I looked at Taylor in amazement. Did you hear that?, I mouthed at him. My brother returned my look with an amused shrug. It seemed that our little brother had managed to surprise us both.

“So…what else did you read in the library?” I asked.

“Loads of stuff.” Zac shrugged, scraping plate with his fork to scoop up the last few morsels. “You used to go to the library too, Tay. Right?” he said to our brother.

“Yeah but… I always ended up looking at the same couple of books - art, architecture. There was one all about photos. The last thing I wanted to do was to read about Flock stuff.”

“Oh. Well, I was kinda curious.”

Clearly, I thought, amused at the idea of my little brother snooping around the Officers’ library, reading up on CoR history. I wondered what other useful information he’d picked up along the way in his dusting sessions.

“Anyway, going back to the elections, are we all voting for Charlton McCallister?” Taylor said, setting his cutlery down on the plate.

“Well, if you are, I can’t see why not.”

“Sure. Makes no difference to me either way. As long as they let someone come and help me, or I might vote for the wrong person.” Zac said.

“Let’s wash up and then go then. I’ll take you to the polling station to do your citizens duty and then we can just put Taylor in front of the TV to watch all the exit polls while Zac and I play some music. Do you fancy that, Zac?” Jesse said.

“Sounds awesome!” my brother said, suddenly displaying real enthusiasm for something other than food. Jesse worked long hours and lately, their guitar practice sessions had been few and far between. To his credit, my brother didn’t like to be a nuisance, especially if he saw Jesse and Taylor engrossed in conversation; or, as it often happened before mealtimes, if Jesse offered to help Taylor with the cooking. That usually involved Jesse sitting on the kitchen counter as he watched my brother busying himself at the stove, while they chatted about the hospital and people neither Zac or I knew.

Yeah, Zac was definitely, consciously giving Jesse and Taylor some space. He was, however, reclaiming that space at different times, especially at bedtime. My little brother’s generosity only stretched itself up to a point.

——

We knew we’d arrived at the polling station as soon as we saw the long lines of people stretching all the way around the block. 

“I didn’t expect that kind of turnout” Jesse said as he followed the hand signals of a soldier directing traffic. “I was already living here at the last presidential elections but it wasn’t this busy.”

We pulled into a nearby car park, also presided by military personnel at every corner. Before we’d even had a chance to ask for directions, an  unsmiling female soldier told us to report to another soldier stationed just at the corner of the street; he, in turn, directed us to another man in uniform, who did the same, until finally we were channelled into one of four separate lines, each made up of at least two, three hundred people. 

I looked around, surveying the rest of the crowd. Some of the men and women lining up where clearly the displaced, Blue City’s transient population. I’d almost forgotten their existence - they were not the kind of people you encountered in Jesse’s neighbourhood. Taylor, of course, came across all sorts at the hospital, but Zac and I never really strayed much further than the end of our block, unless we were going somewhere in the car with Jesse. 

I realised that we were almost living in an artificial, sheltered little world, untouched by the hardship that had caused the Exodus. Odd jobs for the neighbours, a safe place to live, a roof over our heads, plenty of food. How long could it last?, I asked myself as I looked at the people around us, some of them in dirty, worn out clothes, their gaunt faces displaying all the sheer exhaustion of trying to stay alive day after day. I knew that feeling very well. I can’t go back to living like that. We can’t. 

“You’re okay Ike?” Taylor asked.

“What? Yeah, why?” 

“You just look …tense.” he said, softly.

I exhaled, willing myself to relax a little. 

“I’m …ok, just looking at those people over there.” I jerked my head in the direction of a small, raggedy group of people in the next line. “That was us only a few months ago.” I said.

“I know. I see people like them all the time at the hospital. It’s hard because…there’s nothing we can do to help them.”

“Well, you help them Tay. You, Jesse, the nurses…that’s more than I do.” I said. 

I couldn’t help feeling that lately I’d been living in a nice, cozy bubble, cut out from the problems that affected so many in the City. Caring for Zac had taken up all of my attention, even if it was obvious that my brother didn’t need that much help anymore. The truth was that taking care of my brother felt good: I got to spend all my time with him.  Zac knew that, and even if he could tie up his own shoes, and button up his shirt by himself, and, at a push, he could probably make himself a sandwich for lunch, he understood that I saw those simple tasks as my job now, one that I enjoyed too much to want to give it up.

The fact remained that Taylor and Jesse were making a difference, and I wasn’t.

“I empty bedpans, Ike. I’m really not doing much.”

“But it’s something.”

“Don’t feel guilty. This whole thing, the Exodus - it’s a huge problem, and nothing that you or I, or even the four of us put together can fix.” Jesse said, patting my back. “All you can do is to go in there, put a cross on that ballot paper, and hope that it makes the slightest bit of difference.”

“I guess so.” I said, surveying the long line which snaked all the way around the block. 

I very much doubted that our voting would make much difference; if the system was as flawed as Jesse’d said, it seemed to me that the situation was unlikely to change much. I had more faith in the actions of common people, people like Jesse, who did their job as best as they could and who helped others without wanting anything in return. He’d certainly made a bigger difference in our lives than any politician ever could. I’d vote, but I seriously doubted that a senator could really do something for me and my brothers. 

The blown-up faces of President LeClerq and Senator McCallister seemed to watch over the voters from giant posters affixed the walls and on large metal frames dotted along the way to the polling station. The president looked so polished, with her pearl earrings and her updo from which not a single hair would have a chance to escape. As for the Senator, his smile exuded the confidence of someone who’d never known failure. What could he McAllister possibly have in common with people like us? Suddenly the idea that the Exodus folks were turning up in droves to vote for McAllister seemed ridiculous. There was no way that someone like him, who even just from a poster smelled like money, could give a rat’s ass about those people. 

Just like most of the OfficersB at the Compound, I guess. They lived according to a whole different set of rules to ordinary Flock members; maybe life in the Compound wasn’t that different from the Outside, after all. On reflection Charlton McAllister wouldn’t have looked out of place in an Officer’s uniform.

Who did he remind me of?

——

By the time we were through the polling stations’ heavily guarded double doors, my legs were killing me. I wasn’t used to waiting in line for so long - I hadn’t had to do that since the days of lining up at the mess tent at Blue City. 

“Almost there.” I said to Zac, and to myself. It wasn’t just my legs that hurt - my shoulder, too, was aching from my brother’s pulling on my arm as we shuffled slowly in line. 

“I hope so. No wonder some people decide not to vote, if it takes so long.” Zac said.

“I’m sorry you had to wait with us and you’re not even voting.” Taylor said to Jesse, who had insisted to get in line with us.

“It’s all right. I just want to make sure you know what to do when you get there. Last time we visited a government building, things didn’t go too smoothly.”

“That’s true.” I had to admit. We still didn’t know what happened with our records. DuVall and our mother had been adamant: they’d had nothing to do with the disappearance of our original census entries. Now we had official papers, but we still were none the wiser as to who our father really was and above all, who had tried to stop us from finding out - and why.

The voting itself didn’t take long. It was easy for me and Taylor - we just had to put a cross in a box next to a black and white photograph of the Senator. Zac, however was shown to a different booth on the far side of the hall, past a sign that read ‘Visually Impaired’. We watched him perform a test vote via a system of voice recordings and raised keys which guided him through the process. When he’d had a chance to ‘test’ his vote twice, a polling assistant asked my brother if he wanted us to leave, so that his vote could remain secret.

“There’s no need, I’m voting for his favourite anyway.” he said, pointing in the direction of Taylor. The woman left the booth and drew the curtain, tutting in disapproval as Zac pressed the button that corresponded to his choice of vote. Seconds later, Zac’s head emerged from behind the curtain.

“All done. Tay, you owe me one.” 

As the polling assistant walked away from us, her disapproval painted all over her face, a lopsided smirk crept on my younger brother’s face. 

“I don’t think she likes me very much.”

We stopped at the superstore on our way back from the polling station to buy the food for the election night ‘party’ that Taylor had decided to organise. The television coverage would to run through the night and into the early hours of the morning, and my brother had every intention to stay up and watch it, aided, no doubt, by copious amounts of coffee. The food was a rather transparent attempt to bribe us to join him in the viewing. None of us were particularly interested in the elections but it was hard not to be swept along by my brother’s enthusiasm: he was like a small child waiting for something really exciting to happen, like Christmas was to Outsiders. 

“I hope that he gets the results he want.” I said to Jesse as I pushed the supermarket trolley, watching Taylor saunter from one aisle to the next, picking things up from the shelves, making occasional trips back to deposit his finds in the trolley. 

“What if his guy doesn’t win?” Zac asked.

“Well, at least we’ll have food for the next …umm…month.” Jesse said, looking at the contents of our trolley.

“Are you going to stay up and watch then?” I asked him.

“Yeah, probably. I’m not working tomorrow so…can’t let Taylor party on his own, right?” 

“I’m staying up too.” Zac quickly said. Obviously he had no intention of giving Jesse and Taylor any space this evening.

“You’ll be asleep on the couch before they’ve finished counting the votes.” I said. 

“I don’t care. I’m only in it for the food.”

“You and me both.” 

I really didn’t have much interest in who the next President of CANAAN was going to be. From what Jesse had told us, things for ordinary people never really changed. Taylor, however, had dived into CANAAN’s life head first, and couldn’t get enough of it. It was as if my brother had made it his mission to learn everything he could about our new world. I just hoped that the Outside wouldn’t disappoint him - not yet, anyway. We’d had enough of that for a while. And if Charlton McAllister was going to become the next President of CANAAN, he’d better not let my brother down.

---

Once at home, my brother threw himself into the preparation for our Election party with an enthusiasm I hadn’t seen since we were kids. By the time we were in our teens, neither Taylor nor I cared much about birthdays, but we always tried to do something special for our Zac. The CoR’s official line on birthdays was that they offered ‘an opportunity for regroup and reassessment’, and offered an extra one-to-one processing session to be taken in place of work, or school. The session was optional but, of course, not taking up the offer would have gone back to your superiors. It was always a battle to made Zac go - a battle we won by dangling at him the promise of birthday presents and dinner treats. I tried to push away the thought of what the real price of Zac’s birthday treats had been in the past while I watched Taylor open packets of potato chips which he emptied into large bowls. This time, at least, I’d payed for the food with money I’d earned myself.

“Do you need any help?” I asked him. 

“Um, there’s really not that much you can do, I’ve got it.”

“Fair enough. You don’t need me anymore.” 

My brother put down the food bowl on the kitchen table. 

“Ike, don’t say that. Of course I still need you.” 

“Hey, I was only kidding.” I laughed.

Taylor looked at me for a couple seconds, as if he was trying to figure out if I’d really been joking or if, deep down, refusing my help had really hurt my feelings.

“Tay, it’s okay, honestly.”

“I just…I just don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate what you do for me, you know? I mean…I know that if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be able to work at the hospital. With you looking after Zac…you let me do this and I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know, Ike.”

I took a step closer to my brother, and put my hands on his shoulders.

“Tay, I don’t know how we’ve suddenly got into a serious conversation but don’t you ever think that you owe me anything. What you’ve done for me and Zac over the years…” I shook my head, not wanting to elaborate. “You need to do something for yourself for once. And I’m going to do everything I can to make it possible.” 

“We both did what we could. In different ways.” 

“I didn’t have to sleep with creepy old men.”

“You gave up the chance to get married and have a family. You wanted to have kids, your own family. Now it will probably never happen.” my brother said. 

“I have a family, Tay. I don’t need another one.” 

“But you know what I mean. Wife, kids.”

“We have Zac. You don’t think it’s like having a kid?” I said, smiling at the comparison.

“Well, he’s gonna have to grow up sometime.”

“Face it, Tay: Zac will never fully grow up.” 

“But that worries me. It’s like he doesn’t want to, sometimes. He’s just …in his own little world. What if something happens to us, he can’t take care of himself, he can’t work, we haven’t got anybody -” my brother made a vague gesture with his hands, as if to demonstrate what he’d just said. 

“Tay, come on.” I put my hand on the back of his neck, bringing his head closer to mine. “Nothing’s going to happen to us. Zac’s going to be fine, he just needs to adjust. Maybe one day he’ll find something that he can do, but it’s too soon now. Give him time. It’s too soon for him.” 

My brother looked at me and nodded, like a little boy looking for reassurance, but not entirely convinced. 

“He’s going to be fine. We’re going to be fine. And until then, we’re going to take care of him, and you can take as much time as you like at the hospital, do your training…whatever you need to do. Who knows, you might even become a doctor one day.” I said.

“Fat chance. But I’d be happy to become a nurse.” 

“Well then. Nurse. Either way, you’ll be good at it.”

“I guess so. I’m quite handy with a bedpan.” 

“Don’t be silly, when you’re a nurse you won’t have to empty bedpans. There are volunteers for that. Desperate people with no qualifications, you know?” 

My brother laughed and I took that as a chance to change the subject. 

“So, what time’s the party starting?”

“Well, everything’s ready, we just need to lay things out. Can you put the TV on and clear the coffee table?” Taylor said, again focused on the task at hand. I was glad to see that his mind was once again on happier thoughts. At least for one evening, I didn’t want my brother to worry about Zac, or me, or anything, in fact. Tonight we were going to sit back and enjoy the elections.

—

“Ike, can you take this into the living room?” my brother said, handing me yet another bowl of food. I looked at the packet that my brother had just emptied into the bowl. Doritos. I picked one of the crispy chips and sniffed it. Still not sure. 

“It’s not poisoned, you know?” Jesse said, walking into the kitchen. 

“I know, it’s just, I’ve never had one before.” I said, biting a small corner. It tasted okay, kind of tangy. I put the rest in my mouth. Yeah, I like this, I thought.

“Don’t eat them all now though. And don’t let Zac anywhere near the food yet.” my brother said.

“Don’t worry, I’m keeping him busy. I’m teaching him how to play a very difficult song. That should keep him busy for a while.” Jesse winked.

In the living room, the TV was on, already set on Taylor’s favourite news channel. Scrolling headlines ran across the bottom of the screen, reporting on other news - crimes, world events, sport results. But the main programme was already taken up by the rolling election coverage, despite the fact that the polling stations were still open. It’s going to be a long night, I thought, setting the bowl down on the coffee table, which was already completely covered other bowls and plates. Just how much food did we need?

“And now let’s take a look at Senator McCallister’s most successful moments during the electoral campaign so far -” the TV blared in the background.

“Ike? Can you take this through?” my brother called me from the kitchen. I dutifully retrieved yet another bowl of snacks, and returned to the living room, studying the coffee table in the hope of finding a spare bit of space.

The real turning point in McCallister’s ascent as Presidential Candidate for the Republican Restoration Party was his speech in the former US state of Washington during which he promised to abolish the equality quotas set by current president LeClerq, receiving a standing ovation in return. Let’s watch a clip of that speech now.

I picked at the contents of the bowl - toffee flavoured popcorn - as the Senator’s face filled the TV screen. I sighed in frustration - he really, really looked like somebody I knew.

“I will abolish the unfair equality quotas, which have created the absolute opposite of equality in our society…” 

McAllister’s voice sounded strangely familiar as it boomed through the TV speakers. I racked my brain trying to think of the officers at the Compound. Was it one of them?

“…a new era for CANAAN, a return to the traditional values of our past, while looking to the future…”

I studied the candidate’s face, his strong jaw; his featured displayed the kind of confidence and self-possession that only comes with money, and power. 

“…to take CANAAN out of the Depression and into a new era of prosperity…”

That voice, I knew that voice. Where did I know that voice from?

“…dignity for all men, women and children…”

My throat felt suddenly dry. I tried to swallow the popcorn I had put into my mouth only seconds earlier.

“…children…”

“…our future…”

“…our children…”

“…CANAAN’s children…”

The bowl slipped from my hands, smashing on the hard floor. I knew that it had shattered into pieces - I saw the fragments of porcelain bounce off the floorboards, popcorn scattering all around me like giant snowflakes. But all I could hear was that voice - the Senator’s voice, ‘children…our children…’  and I was frozen in place, unable to take my eyes off the screen.

“Ike, what’s the matter?” Taylor had run into the room, and was talking to me. I could see his lips moving from the corner of my eye, but the voice on the TV was still talking.

“Family, community, country -” 

“Ike, what’s wrong, you’re scaring me now.” Taylor was saying to me.

“Is it the TV, Ike?” Jesse’s voice said somewhere near me.

“Rebuilding our broken economy…with our children, for our children, for CANAAN’s children!”

Finally, the realisation sunk in, in all its clarity, and I was suddenly calm.

“That’s our father.”

--------

“How can you be sure, Ike, it was years ago since you last spoke to him!” Taylor spoke to me in a tone he’d never used with me before. Distrust. Impatience. A tinge of derision. They were all looking at me now, as I sat on the couch, trying to make sense of what I had just seen. Or just remembered.

“I told you, I’m as sure as I am of you and Zac being my brothers - that man-” I said, pointing at the TV, even if the segment on the Senator had long finished - “That man is our father. I recognise his voice, the way he spoke, the way he said ‘children’, I can’t even explain, but I’m telling you, Tay, it’s him!” 

“Ike this…this is crazy.” My brother shook his head, turning to look at the TV as if it was going to suddenly provide some definite answer, as if the news anchor was suddenly going to declare from behind his desk that the presidential candidate was most definitely not our father.

“I know that. Don’t you think I’ve realised that? But I am not crazy, Taylor, and you know that!” 

My brother sighed, his eyes still hopelessly fixed on the screen.

I looked at Zac: he was doing his best Zac-in-hiding thing, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced together. A curtain of hair covered his face.

“Zac? Say something.” 

He shook his head slightly, making his hair dangle like a stringy curtain. 

“Don’t know what to say, Ike.” he said in a low drawl. 

“You could say that you believe me?” I suggested.

My younger brother hesitated. Hidden by his hair, he was considering the facts, digesting them.

“It’s not…it’s not a case of believing you, Ike.” he said after a few seconds. “I do believe you. I’ll always believe you. The question is, is your mind playing tricks on you? I have no way of knowing that, because I was just too young to remember.” he said, finally lifting up his face in my direction.

“My mind is not playing tricks on me. I’m not hallucinating, or anything. Jesse, do I look like someone who’s going crazy?” 

Jesse had been sitting quietly, hugging his knees in between taking sips from his beer. Once the initial shock of what I’d said had sunk in, he’d gone straight to the fridge and taken out three bottles of beer and a can of soda, handing the latter to Zac and sharing the beers between the rest of us. I guessed that was the way Outsiders faced a crisis: with alcohol. 

“I never said that you’re crazy, Ike. I’m just saying, this doesn’t make sense.”- Taylor began to say.

“Doesn’t it?” Jesse said, at nobody in particular.

I looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

“What, you think it makes sense?” Taylor said.

“I’m not sure, yet. We need to look at all the elements we’ve got.”

Jesse looked serious, as if he was putting together the pieces in his head. 

“What elements?” Taylor said. “Isaac thinks that someone on TV sounds like someone he hasn’t heard speaking in over 20 years. Is that what we’ve got to work with?” 

I groaned, but Jesse spoke before I could hit back at Taylor’s objection.

“Okay, let’s be rational about this. What do we know?” he said, slowly, cautiously. 

“Umm, nothing?” Taylor said.

“Wrong. We know that your father’s name, at least on the records we were able to access, is Charlie. What’s this guy’s name? Charlton. The chances are that he goes by the name of Charlie, too.” 

“You cannot be serious, Jesse. There are gonna be thousands of Charlies in CANAAN.” Taylor said.

“I know. I’m just going through what we know, Taylor.” 

Taylor. I knew that Jesse was dead serious now. These days he always called our brother ‘Tay’.

“Sorry.” Taylor said.

“Okay, so, we also suspected that your father’s surname on your official records was a made-up one. We can’t prove it but I was never convinced by Smith.”

“But we can’t be sure.” I objected. I was hoping for stronger evidence than that.

“No, we can’t.” Jesse said. “What else do we know? We know that the moment we started to look for your records, and for your father’s identity, weird shit started to happen. First your records weren’t there, then, when we finally managed to find them, they’re only partial. Then, on our way to the Census Office, your new papers get cancelled, and we get arrested at the southern states border crossing. And then, that Census office clerk in San Diego suddenly has a change of heart just minutes after saying that it was all in hand. On top of that, you see him talking to this guy who, apparently, had been following you for weeks back at home.”

I let the information sink in. There was no denying that it was all pretty strange.

“Then you get kidnapped by your former cult mates, and it turns out that they were fed all this information by some mystery source, but that they had nothing to do with deleting your files.” Jesse continued.

“So, whoever did that, had the power to do it, and knew where we came from, and how to contact DuVall and our mom.” I said.

Taylor stared silently into his beer. 

“But our mom said - quite clearly - that our father is a Known Enemy of the Church. She was adamant about this, and DuVall backed her up. So how do you explain him reaching out to them?”

“DuVall also said that we have enemies in high places.” I said. 

“So who’s the enemy? If ….McCallister is …him, why would he contact DuVall to find us? Is he our enemy, as well as an enemy of the Church? It doesn’t make any fucking sense, either way.” Taylor put the beer down on the coffee table.  

“No, it doesn’t, you’re right but …it’s not your usual family story, either. You don’t get followed for no reason and you don’t get your official birth records withheld for no reason.” Jesse said, getting up.

“Has anyone thought of the most obvious thing?” Zac said, stopping Jesse in his track. 

“What would that be?” Jesse said.

“The one thing I can’t help with. Do we look anything like this guy?” 

“That’s…a really good point.” Jesse said, picking up the remote control. He hit ‘rewind’ and spun the video back to the segment on McCallister’s speech, from a few minutes earlier. 

As Jesse pressed ‘play’ and the senator’s face once again filled the screen, I couldn’t help holding my breath. It was so obvious, but if the senator was our father, there would have to be some resemblance. Suddenly I felt stupid. Of course we’re not going to look anything like him. I scanned his face and searched for familiar traits, and I sensed that Taylor and Jesse were doing the same, trying to find something that probably wasn’t there.

The Senator’s had a full head of dark brown hair, with only a few greys by his temples; it was short and straight, and parted on the side. Mine was curly, and a light shade of brown that turned blonde in the summer. When I lived at the Compound, working under the brutal, relentless desert sun, my hair stayed blonde all year round; but now, after a winter in the City, it looked a lot darker. Maybe the Senator’s went blonde in the sun too? Or maybe it didn’t. Suddenly I became painfully aware that I was clutching at straws.

“I can’t see any resemblance. We look nothing like him.” I conceded.

“No, we don’t.” Taylor said.

“Maybe it’s harder for you to see yourselves from the outside. But actually, look at his mouth.” Jesse said. He pressed play again, replaying a frame in which the Senator smiled broadly to the camera. “The smile. Like he has extra teeth in his mouth, like you and Zac.” he said.

“What do you mean by that?” Zac asked.

“Mate, you and Isaac have big teeth. You could sever a limb with those fangs. But seriously, your eyes are the same colour, too.” 

“There are millions of people with brown eyes.” Taylor said.

“I know, I’m just saying, Taylor.” Jesse said. He put the remote control down and let the clip of the Senator replay on the TV screen as we watched in silence.

“Here’s an idea.” Jesse said again after a while. “Let’s see if we can find any photos of McAllister when he was younger.” He got up and picked up his laptop from a shelf. We gathered around him as the computer started up with a chime, and watched Jesse type Charlton McAllister young into the search engine. Almost instantly, the screen filled with images of the Senator at different stages of his life.

“Let’s see…”

Jesse scrolled through several thumbnails on the results page, before finally pausing on the photo of a younger man. He clicked it open. 

As the photo of a younger Charlton McCallister filled the screen, we all took a sharp intake of breath. 

Zac.

I looked at Taylor. His eyes mirrored what I felt inside: stunned disbelief. The man we were looking at, dressed in a polo shirt and chinos, could have been a smartly dressed, cleaner-cut looking version of our younger brother. His hair came down to his shoulders, with long bangs swept to one side, giving the young McAllister a somewhat dishevelled look.

“So? What does he look like?” Zac asked.

“Who does he look like, rather.” Jesse said.

“He looks like you, Zac.” Taylor said, in a thin voice. 

“You’re joking, right?” 

“He’s not.” I said.

“I wish you could see this, Zac. In this photo he must have been ….what, twenty-something? He looks the way you’d look if you had designer clothes and an expensive haircut.” Jesse said.

My younger brother shook his head slowly.

“I can’t…I can’t imagine that.” 

“I know. It’s just…it’s hard to explain. But he definitely looks like you, Zac.” I said. Suddenly I was conscious of my brother’s disadvantage again. I could guide him on a busy street and I could help him pick his clothes - I could do a lot of things for him but right now I knew that he would have given anything to see that photo.

We studied photograph after photograph of the younger Senator -  and were left with no doubt that the similarity was striking. Now that I’d made the connection between the Senator’s facial traits and my brother, I could see a bit of Taylor and me, too. They were only faint glimpses, but they were enough to convince me that I was right, that I hadn’t hallucinated a memory from a confused childhood.

Something else quickly became obvious: there wasn’t a single photo of the Senator with our mom. 

“Is there somewhere where we can read a biography, Jesse? Can you look it up?

“Sure.” Jesse clicked on the search results again, and opened a page from the first results. “Let’s see… here we go - Charlton McAllister, born in the former US State of California …son of a real estate tycoon who later become a member of the Senate to the former US Republican party…. politics runs in the family, then. Married to Martha Darmody, daughter of Sean Howard Darmody, business magnate and philanthropist. They have one daughter, Marcia born in…let’s see, that would make her ….26.” Jesse paused. 

“So if it’s really him…we have a sister.” Taylor said.

I was speechless. Suddenly there were four of us?

“If it is really him, it didn’t take him long to get himself a new family, then.” Zac said.

“Zac, we might have a sister!” I said.

“Half-sister.” he pointed out.

I sighed, and clicked open another image of the McAllister family, smiling and waving at the cameras. Marcia. It was a lot to take in, and we could still be wrong. But the young McCallister could have easily passed for my younger brother. It couldn’t be a coincidence - not after all the strange occurrences of the past few months. 

“So…anyway. We might have something to celebrate tonight other than the elections. The next President of CANAAN might be our dad.” Taylor picked up a bowl of potato chips and flopped back against the couch. “It’s not the kind of thing that happens every day. We might as well enjoy it.” he said, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth.

I took a long swig from my beer. I was beginning to see the appeal of alcohol - it numbed your senses and blurred the edges of what seemed important.  Right now that was exactly what I needed.

I watched the images on the TV screen run past my eyes without taking much notice of the female reporters with their perfect smiles and their skirt suits in bright shades of pink and red. I saw their mouths move as they talked into the cameras from their vantage points outside the country’s polling stations, but I wasn’t hearing. Right in front of my eyes it all jumbled together, the pie charts and the graphics, the running headlines about exit polls and projections. But still, I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. I watched, and I waited. In a few hours, we’d find out if the man who we now thought was our father would become the next President of CANAAN.

“Guys, you’ve got to listen to this.” 

Jesse’s voice startled me - I’d dozed off.  My neck was stiff from resting my head on Taylor’s shoulder. I looked at the time, displayed on a corner of the news channel broadcast. It was 1:00 AM.

“What is it?” I said, trying to move. Zac was lying on the couch, fast asleep, his head resting on a cushion that he’d conveniently placed on my lap. 

“Did you find anything else?” Taylor took a sip from a cup of still steaming coffee from the table. He’d obviously stayed awake all the way through.

“Yep. I’ve been searching the online archives for several newspapers and news sites from the former state of California, which is where the Senator comes from. And also, from what used to be called Utah - which is where the Compound is.” 

“Okay…” He had my interest.

“You know what your mom and DuVall had said, about your father being ‘a known enemy of the Church.’”  

“Go on.” Taylor said.

“Well, I trawled through those archives from around the time when Zac was born, up until a couple of years later. And look at what I found.” he said, pointing at the screen.

I looked down at my lap. 

“I can’t move.” 

“Jesus. Is there any surface he can’t fall asleep on?” Jesse rolled his eyes and came to sit on the floor by my feet, placing the laptop on the coffee table in front of us. “I’m going to read it out to you.”

“Congressman Charlton McAllister petitions Governor of California to outlaw religious cults.”

“And the Flock is a cult, right?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah. Wait until you hear the rest. Charlton McAllister is pressing the California state government for legislation to outlaw religious cults such as the Utah - based Church of Reconstruction, also known as ‘The Flock’, which has recruitment centers in most US states, including California . McAllister wants all religious institutions to be legally obliged to disclose details to the authorities of any residential communities closed to the public and advocates for regular and unannounced government inspections of such communities.” Jesse read on.

“Well, that would have certainly have made him a Known Enemy.” I said.

“I found several articles from that time and the picture I’m getting is that our Senator was on a personal crusade against your church. Interesting, don’t you think?” Jesse said.

“What’s a crusade?” I asked.

“A mission, with God’s approval.” Jesse said.

“So…what happened? He obviously didn’t get very far with that.” Taylor said.

“I’m not sure. We’d have to search the archives of more recent years. But maybe he just gave up. Or his political career got in the way.

“Or maybe he was too busy playing happy families and didn’t want anyone to find out about us and mom.” Zac said. 

“You’re awake?” I looked down at my brother’s head. 

“Kind of. I was listening, anyway.”

“It actually makes sense. Think about it.

That was roughly the time when his political career was taking off. Surely anyone wanting to damage his chances could have done some digging and maybe would have found a connection between his problems with the Flock and his secret family.”

“So, do you think we were …a secret?” Taylor asked.

“Well, I’d assume so. There is no mention anywhere of your mother, or you, anywhere. You grew up in the Compound so that’s understandable, but your mom? If it had been public between the two, there’d be a record of it somewhere, even on some old local newspaper sites. So it either was a secret, or someone took the trouble of wiping out her name from anything remotely connected to him. Or, most likely, both.” 

“What difference does it make anyway? He knew how bad things were in the Flock, and he still left us there, and got himself a new wife and another kid. Who gives a shit!” Zac sat up, palming the coffee table for the open half-finished can of soda he’d left before falling asleep on me. He took a big gulp and gave the can a little shake to check that there wasn’t any left. “And let’s not forget that he’s tried to stop us from finding out about him.” he added.

My brother had a point. Our father had left us there, and had gone on without us making a new family for himself in the process. He could have got us out, taken us somewhere safe. But he didn’t. 

“At this point I’m past caring. It’s all just too weird. It sounds crazy. I sound crazy. I think I might go to bed.” I said. 

“You can’t go to bed now, the official results will be out in an hour,” Taylor said, aghast.

“Tay, I don’t care anymore. Zac’s right, what difference does it make to us, anyway? There’s nothing to celebrate.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but if my father was about to become the next President, I’d stay up to find out.” Jesse said.

“Not you, as well.” I sighed.

“Come on you guys. We need to see this through. You can go back to sleep here and I’ll wake you up when it’s time.” Taylor pleaded. “Come on.”

I couldn’t say no to him. 

Only a few hours earlier he’d been so excited about the elections, while now he looked almost scared, as if he didn’t want to be left on his own when the results were announced.

“All right,” I said. “Come on Zac. You can make yourself comfortable again.” I joked, patting the cushion that was still on my knees. My youngest brother gave out an exaggerated huff, but dropped himself back on the couch nevertheless, his head hitting the cushion with a deaf thud. 

The news coverage carried on, undisturbed by our private discovery. If only they knew that, somewhere in the City, sat in front of a TV screen were Charlton McAllister’s children - CANAAN’s children, to use his own phrasing.  I played with strands of Zac’s hair as I forced myself to stay awake; but confusion had given way to tiredness, and my eyes were feeling heavier and heavier. My last conscious  thought was how the soft tapping of Jesse’s fingers on the keyboard sounded like rain hitting a window pane; and my mind took me to our old trailer, and our lives before the Compound, our lives before the desert, when we still had a father.

—

I woke up again some time later. “Wake up, wake up, the results are in!” Taylor was saying as he shook me by the shoulder. 

The news came as no big surprise: I was prepared by now. It was the most likely outcome, one that had been predicted and projected and already discussed by all sorts of experts as a given thing. Only a few hours earlier we’d been to the polls ourselves, and I hadn’t given much thought to it while I was putting a cross next to the candidate’s face before slotting the folded piece of paper into the wooden box. It had only been someone’s face. It had only been someone’s name. 

Everything had changed now - forever. As the news spread through the city, passing cars tooted their horns while fireworks were let off somewhere in the distance; spontaneous outbursts by people, citizens, celebrating the victory of their candidate. Their President.

Inside, I felt nothing. 

Instead, I stared transfixed at the running footage - already on loop on all the news channels - showing the moment when the news had reached him. The camera zoomed in on the Senator, sitting on a couch in a room somewhere, his eyes fixed on a large TV screen, surrounded by exhausted looking staff in rumpled suits. Newsreaders analysed every detail as the clip was replayed over and over - Charlton McAllister, the new President of CANAAN, raising his clenched fists up in the air as the room erupted into cheers; Charlton McAllister embracing his wife and daughter, shaking hands, patting backs, stepping so comfortably into a role that already looked custom made for him.

Senator Charlton McAllister has been elected the new President of CANAAN - the news reader went on. “McAllister, whose friends and family just call Charlie…”

We all looked at each other, and that’s when we knew that it was all true. 

Charlie.

Chapter Text

Election night had come and gone, and with it, all my excitement for the future of CANAAN. I’d let myself become wrapped up in the workings of the new world we had barely just go to know, embracing it with my usual puppy-like enthusiasm, only to end up being kicked in the teeth. Of all people, our father had turned out to be the one person we could never reach out to, he in his mansion somewhere, soon to be installed at CANAAN House, the three of us here in the City, with no family, wholly dependant on the kindness of a friend.

Whenever I looked at my brothers now,  all I could see was the President. He was everywhere, and not just on the television screens of every household in CANAAN, but also right in front of me, every day, reflected in our faces, in my younger brother’s smile. I’d been so naive to think that knowing our father’s name, finding our roots, would somehow help us finding our place in CANAAN. That somehow we’d suddenly felt like we belonged.

 In fact, knowing hadn’t helped at all - on the contrary, now I tortured myself with questions about him, pointless questions for which I knew there’d be no answer. Why did you leave us? Why didn’t you come back for us? Why did you not try harder to get the Compound shut down? Time and time again I went over those questions, making up possible answers. We’d never be able to ask him in person - he had obviously made sure of that. There was no official record linking us to him, so who would believe us? Maybe if Jay Weathers had still been in service - but he’d retired months ago. And we couldn’t just walk into a police station and say ‘Hi, we’re the illegitimate sons of President McAllister, can we get his phone number?” It wasn’t just a hopeless situation - it was almost ridiculous.

 At least it wasn’t just me. When he wasn’t keeping busy fixing something for the neighbours, Isaac moped around the apartment; he’d quietly follow me into the kitchen and watch me cook, or he’d curl up on the couch while Zac sat on the floor at his feet, practising his guitar. He didn’t speak much, but I sensed he didn’t want to be left on his own, either. Knowing my older brother, he was probably trying to extract whatever faint memories were left from our father’s visits back in the trailer - times I could barely remember. 

And Jesse - Jesse seemed spooked by our findings, to the point that he’d started using a special computer programme whenever we asked him to search the internet for anything related to the President. He was worried that his computer was being monitored, that someone knew that we’d found out. I didn’t see the problem - it’s not as if we posed a threat to the President.  But Jesse said that we were naive, that in the wrong hands, our information would be very useful. He pointed out that LeClerq’s people could use us to discredit McAllister, and that the presidential team would know that. At that point in the conversation, I’d usually shrug and stop listening: the whole thing only made my brain hurt.

Oddly enough, Zac was the only one who appeared unfazed, shielded, maybe, by not being able to see our father’s face on every TV screen, every billboard and newsstand whenever he left the house. “If they’d wanted to get rid of us, they would have done it by now.” he’d said bluntly the day after the elections, and that was the last thing he’d said on the subject in one of his unexpected but increasingly frequent displays of wisdom.

If only I could have picked up the phone and spoken to our mother - now I could have asked her the right questions; I would have extracted an answer out of her, in a way or another - I’d have played the guilt card, using - my relationship with Duvall, Zac’s hospitalisation - anything to get the truth out of her. I kept going over and over all these scenarios in my mind, even if I there was no way I could contact her. I didn’t even know if I’d ever see her again - something that, despite my better judgement, filled me with deep sadness.

 To distract myself, I threw myself back into my volunteering work. I didn’t have much time to think at the hospital - there was too much to do. A new flux of Exodus people had reached the City, and the hospital was bursting at the seams. More and more often, I was assigned to the ER, where  patients were triaged according to the severity of their condition. First, a clerk at the front desk would give every patient a number - then a nurse would quickly assess them, and if the patient wasn’t bleeding out or already on the verge of death, the most likely outcome was a long wait  in a special waiting area, which had been  partitioned off so that the stinky, ragged crowd wouldn’t offend the sensitivity of the regular folk. It was understandable: some of these people were in such a poor state of personal hygiene that even some of the medical staff had complained about having to spend more time cleaning people up than actually treating them.

As a result, it was now the volunteers’ job to help the Exodus patients out of they filthy clothes and into hospital-issued paper gowns and remove boots from feet that had festering wounds brought on by the cold and the lack of clean, dry socks.  I quickly developed a really strong stomach, but also lost my appetite while I was hospital premises. 

I didn’t mind, but working in the ER department was very different from the hospital wards. Now I had very little time to talk to patients and it seemed to me that everything I did was rushed; I wasn’t even quite sure if I was doing things right or not. 

“I’m not sure this is going so well.” I said to Jesse.

We’d met in the small grassy patch immediately outside the hospital. After hours of being stuck in the Toxic Ward (as the nurses has renamed the Exodus section) I was desperate for fresh air. 

“Stop worrying. They have free labour, anything you’re doing helps. Trust me. You’re doing the shit jobs that the nurses don’t want to do anymore.” Jesse said.

“Did they used to do this kind of stuff then?” 

“Oh yes. Well, healthcare assistants, or whatever you want to call them. Basically, people who did what you do, but got paid for it. It’s just that people become more and more specialised that even the butt-wiping jobs have their own hierarchy. So now to get one of those jobs you need to first gain that precious experience as a butt-wiper.”

“Getting paid for it would be good enough.” I mused. 

“Wow, reach for the stars, Tay!” 

“What?” I asked, confused.

“You’re not going to settle for that, right? I didn’t get you this job to become a healthcare assistant.”

“I’m being realistic. What if this is as good as it gets for me?”

“What’s got into you? You’re beginning to sound like Isaac.”

“Yeah, well, maybe he’s right.” I shrugged. “I get my hopes up about a lot of things, while he always expects things to go wrong and at least he’s never disappointed.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime, he’s managed to turn himself into an anxious wreck in the process.” 

“He’s not that bad.”

“Maybe not. But it’s not like you to be such a pessimist, Tay. I know with the…” he lowered his voice “ elections stuff you’ve had a lot to take in. But what you do here, your work, that has nothing to do with that guy on TV. You can do this, you’re good. One day you’ll make a great nurse.” Jesse looked at me, his face turned serious.

“If you say so.” I half-smiled. I desperately wanted to believe him but right now, that goal seemed way out of reach.

“I do. And you’re going trust me, because I’m a doctor.” he crossed his arms, doing that thing he did when he narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head backwards a bit. “And now I really need to head back inside. When I see you later I want to see you literally physically burst with motivation. All right?”

“All right. I’ll do my best. I’d better go back inside too.” I said, pushing my hands into the pockets of my scrubs.

“Go get’ em. Go wipe some butt.”

I shot Jesse a warning look as we walked through the ER’s doors again, before going separate ways. 

—

I reported to the senior staff nurse to get my duties for the rest of the shift. She was a tall, authoritative woman with blonde hair tightly knit into a bun. I’d worked with her before, and quickly learnt that she wasn’t the kind of person who liked repeating things twice. She also seemed to resent the fact that she had to work with untrained volunteers - as if formal training was really needed peel off dirty clothes from patients: all you needed was the ability to not throw up, and surely that was actually a skill that you could only learn on the job?

“You, what’s your name? Taylor.” she said before I could answer, glancing at the name tag that was clipped on my pocket. “Start from ticket number 37. Over there. If you need to put them in a gown, bag their own clothes up, tag them, and tell them to hang on to them. We’ve run out of clean clothes from the donation storeroom. Off you go.”

Clipboard in hand, I made my way towards the front of the room, where a couple dozens people waited. “37?” I called out, searching the room for a raised hand, or some acknowledgement. “37?” I called out again. Sometimes people got sick of waiting and left and often I’d have to call out several consecutive numbers before a patient would actually come forward.

“Him!” a man finally said, pointing at a figure hunched over next to him. He gave him a gentle shake. “Wake up, buddy, it’s your turn!”

“What?” the figure said, raising a thin, pale face up at me. He brushed the strands of long, greasy, dark hair away from his face and looked at me through cold, green eyes that I had definitely seen before. 

Dylan.

“Ooh, look who’s here!” he said in a long drawl before I could speak. “My partner in crime. Didn’t expect to see you here.”  His lips twisted into a smirk as he looked me up and down, taking in my uniform, name badge and the hospital ID clipped to my scrubs. 

“Hello, Dylan.” I said, trying to steady my voice. The brief note on my chart read “37. Breathing difficulties.” At a first glance, he certainly seemed to be breathing okay.

“So, you’re a doctor, now?” he said mockingly in that raspy voice that sounded so familiar now. Whatever Dylan said, it always sounded as if he was mocking you. 

“No, I’m a volunteer. Just helping the nurses.” I glanced at the row of small cubicles that had been created as an extra layer of triage between the waiting room and the main ER area; only one was being used. I sighed. The last thing I wanted was to be alone with him. 

“Volunteer? You mean, you work for free?” he scoffed.

I weighed my options. Technically, it was within my rights to refuse assistance to any patient who was being abusive. But I would have had to report it to the senior nurse, and what if Dylan told her how we’d met? I couldn’t risk it. Let’s get this over and done with, I thought to myself.

“I’m going to need you to come with me.” I said to him.

“Why, that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” he said, languidly uncoiling his bony frame until he was on his feet. I took in a slow, deep breath and turned my back at him. I couldn’t believe that, of all Exodus people, I had to bump into Dylan.

Once we stepped into the cubicle, I drew the thin curtain that acted as a door, and opened a drawer from a wheeled storage unit that contained all the essential supplies I needed for the job. There was one such unit in each cubicle, a temporary solution for what the hospital administration hoped it was a temporary measure to a temporary problem, although I had my doubts about the latter. 

From the drawer, I picked up a paper hospital gown, still wrapped in plastic, and put it at the foot of the bed. I crossed my arms, bracing myself for another dose of Dylan’s humour.

“So, what are you planning do to me, Taylor?” Dylan said as if on cue, hopping on the bed. “Would you like me to undress for you?” 

In answer, I opened another drawer, and took out a roll of yellow plastic bags marked “Bio-hazard”. 

It was a necessary procedure, which had been put in place to prevent fleas, ticks and other pests carried by Exodus patients from infesting the ER. In other circumstances, I would have felt a great deal of empathy for them - knowing full well that, with a few more weeks at Blue City, my brothers and I would have been in the same state. But right now, all I wanted was to get Dylan away from me as soon as possible.

“Would you strip to your underwear and put your clothes in this bag for me.” I said, handing him the bag.

“Sure thing. Nothing you haven’t seen before, anyway.” he smirked.

Please shut up, I thought to myself as I plucked two blue latex gloves from a box on top of the unit. I put them on my hands with a snapping sound.

“Oooh. Latex! Kinky…!” he purred.

“That’s enough, Dylan! I’m trying to get you ready to see the doctors and I’m really not in the mood for this.” 

“Oh come on, Taylor. You’re not still mad at me, are ya?” he said, cocking his head to one side. 

“Clothes, in the bag, now.” I said, motioning at the yellow bag with my head.

“Wow, you are still mad.” he said, taken aback.

I looked at him, and let out a laugh of disbelief.

“And that surprises you? Should I welcome you with open arms, after you left me to get beaten up by that psycho? I was lucky to get out alive!”

“Well, I’m sorry but when the shit hits the fan, it’s every man for himself. It’s the way of the streets. You’d have done the same.” he shrugged.

“The way of the streets.”

“Yeah, man. It’s not like that Marines no man left behind bullshit. Jesus! You’re so naive. You’d have done exactly the same, in my place.” he said, rolling his eyes.

“No, I wouldn't have, because I’m not like you.” I said, as I picked up a tub of antiseptic wipes, and snapped the cap open.

“Oh, I see, you think you’re much better than me, right?” 

 I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation, I thought, shaking my head.

“Dylan - can we just get on with this? There are dozens of people waiting for their turn out there. Can you just wipe yourself down with this and put that gown on.” I said , handing him a wipe. 

“Sure, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your precious patients.” he hissed, snatching the wipe off my hand. “Who did you suck off to get this gig anyway? Looks like a cushy arrangement.” he said as he gave his torso a perfunctory wipe. 

“Nobody. Take another one.” I broke another wipe off the roll and held it out in front of him, holding it between my thumb and index finger. “Make sure you wipe your hands, too.” 

Usually, I would have helped the patient to clean up, but apart from the fact that there was clearly nothing majorly wrong with Dylan, I didn’t want to touch him and give him another opportunity to make one of his inappropriate comments.

“No, seriously Taylor, who did you fuck to get a job here?”

“I said, nobody.”

“Really? So they hire religious cult escapees turned street whores? Wow, if it’s so easy to get a job here, I think I’m gonna apply too!” 

Biting my tongue, I picked up the plastic wrapper I’d put on the bed earlier and ripped it open. 

“Put this on, and then we’re done.” I said, handing him the gown. I really hoped that nobody had heard what Dylan had just said. The partitions between cubicles were just thin mobile panels, designed for basic privacy rather than sound insulation.

“You know, I didn’t remember you being such an asshole.” he said, as he put an arm in the sleeve of the gown, then the other.

“I’m the -”

I didn’t finish my sentence as the curtain was suddenly drawn from the other end of the cubicle, which opened into the ER side, and Jesse was standing in front of me.

“Is everything okay, Taylor?” he said, looking quizzically at me and then at Dylan. “I was just taking charge of a patient from the cubicle next to this and I heard something…?” 

“It’s ok, we’re just done. I’ll just write a name tag for the bag.” I said, flustered. I didn’t want Dylan to know that I knew Jesse - he would have jumped all over that information. 

“Okay…” he said, unconvinced. “Let me look at the chart?” Jesse said, taking the clipboard from the foot of the bed. “Dylan Sarsgaard…” Jesse’s eyes widened.

“Dylan? That Dylan?” he said in a low voice, turning to me.

“Yeah. It’s okay, I’m done here now.” I said, handing a perforated plastic tie to Dylan. “Use this to seal the bag, please.”

“Oh, I see, you two actually know each other?” Dylan asked.

“Let’s just focus on what your symptoms are. Respiratory difficulties, uh?” Jesse said, curtly.

“Yes, my chest hurts when I take a deep breath. I have a bad cough, I think it might be pneumonia.” Dylan said. 

“If you had pneumonia, you wouldn’t be in the mood to chat, but I’ll take a look at you in the ER. Taylor, I can take it from here.” 

“Doctor Jesse Adams…” Dylan read out the tag clipped on the chest pocket of Jesse’s scrubs. His eyebrows shot up his forehead, as if he had suddenly joined the dots. “Oh, I see! You’re the Blue City doctor, right?”

“I volunteered at the medical tent a few times, yes. Now, if you wouldn’t mind lying down on the trolley, we’re going to take you through to the ER.”

“So it’s true what they said! That you guys had left the camp with the blond doctor from the medical tent!” Dylan said, turning to me. “Good catch, Taylor! Now everything makes sense…” 

“That’s enough. Please lie down.” Jesse said.

“Sure, Doc, anything you say…” Dylan said, swinging his legs over on to the trolley. His skin was covered in cuts and bruises at various stages of healing - some were dark purple with red dots that looked like puncture wounds, some that were turning yellow-green; browning scabs that were beginning to peel, revealing tender pink skin underneath.       

Dylan’s gaze followed Jesse as he drew the curtain open on the opposite side of the cubicle. 

“Taylor, can you give me a hand with the trolley?”

“Are you coming too, right?” Dylan turned to me.

“No. The ER nurses will take over from here.” I said, unlocking the brake at the bottom of the trolley with my foot. 

“Right, I’ll be back to examine Mr Sarsgaard shortly.” Jesse said after we’d pushed the trolley into the ER. “I’ll see you later.” he said, turning to me.

“Taylor? Why don’t you wait with me? We’ve got so much to catch up man!” Dylan pleaded, sitting up again.

I picked up the chart and ticked the box next to no. 37. 

“Come on Taylor…”

“Take care, Dylan.” I said, looking at him one last time.

I walked back into the Exodus triage room. All my good intentions for the day had evaporated, replaced by the ugly memories of the camp - times I’d rather have forgotten and that only made me want to go home and hold my brothers tight. I looked at the waiting times board on the wall - three hours to go until the end of my shift. I walked over to the next patient on my chart - he was an older man in his forties or fifties - it was hard to tell - holding his left arm in a makeshift sling. He looked up at me with a wan smile, and his eyes spoke silently of long, hungry days and cold, sleepless nights.

“I’m number 38” he stood up slowly and showed me the paper ticket with a shaky hand.

“What’s your name?”

He hesitated. “Tom. Tom Gately.”

“Well, hello Tom. Would you like to come with me?”

——

 

“Fuck!” 

The sharp pain of sliced flesh took me by surprise. I brought my index finger to my mouth to suck the thick drop of blood that had already formed on my skin. Serves me right for not paying attention. I took my finger out of my mouth, examining it - but the blood was gushing out again, and I watched in horror a couple of drops land on the chopping board, missing by an inch the onion I’d just been slicing. I stuck my finger back in my mouth and picked up the knife again, pushing the uncontaminated food as far as possible from the blood. Then, I set out to tear out a piece of kitchen towel - but it was proving quite a feat with just one hand. 

“Fuck!” I mumbled through my teeth.

“Are you okay?” Jesse asked as he walked into the kitchen. 

“Cut myself.” I said, speaking around my finger.

“Let me see?”

Without waiting for an answer, Jesse put his thumb and forefinger around my wrist and gently prised my hand out of my mouth. Instantly, blood started to pour out of the cut again, mixing with the spittle on my skin and dripping on the kitchen counter.

“Nasty cut.” he frowned, stretching my finger with the other hand to see. 

“Sorry I drooled over it.” I said. 

“Don’t worry. That doesn’t even make it into the grossness scale of what I see every day.” Jesse said, letting go of my hand. He tore a few sheets from the kitchen roll and folded them over several times into a thick square.

“Hold this over the cut and put pressure on it.” he handed me the folded kitchen roll and walked out of the room. Soon he was back with a blue zip-up soft case with a white cross printed on either sides. 

“Let’s patch you up then, shall we?” 

I followed him to the kitchen table and sat down. Jesse unzipped the case, taking out various packets and bottles which he lined up next to each other. He opened a small sachet and took out an antiseptic wipe.

“Sorry.” I said.

“What for?”

“For making you do this. You’ve been at work all day fixing people and now I do something stupid.” 

“Don’t be silly.” Jesse took my hand. “Let it go now?” he said, placing his other hand on the square folded kitchen towel that I was still pressing on my finger. Blood had already seeped through it into a round blob. Jesse lifted the makeshift bandage and this time there was a couple of seconds’ delay before the blood began to spurt out again. He pressed it down again between his fingers, and with his other hand reached for the wipe from the sachet he had just opened.

“This is going to sting a bit.” he cautioned, glancing up at me.

“Oka..- fuck!” I cried.

“I told you it was going to sting. Wimp” He said, his lips twisting into a smile.

“It hurt!”

Jesse gave me a strange look and laughed to himself.

“What?” I said.

“You were a lot braver last time.” he said, letting go of my hand as he reached for another paper sachet. “You had a broken rib, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah. That hurt a lot too, come to think of it.” 

It seemed a lifetime away now, when I’d called Jesse’s number from a public phone in the middle of the night. I tried to recall what had made me do that - he was a complete stranger back then, just someone who had shown us kindness. It could have easily gone a different way.

I watched him as he took out a thin white adhesive strip and placed it gently on the pad of my finger, carefully push the edges of my cut skin together and then placing the rest of the strip over the cut, holding the skin together.

Then he took another one out, and did the same, and then again, using four strips until the cut was closed. 

“That should do.” he cocked his head to one side, examining his work with a satisfied look. 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re not done yet. I’m going to put a bandage on that finger otherwise you’re going to tear those Steristrips out in no time.”

“You did a neat job with those things.” I said, looking at my hand.

“I’m glad that all those years at medical school didn’t go to waste.” he said, wrapping some gauze around my finger.

“That was a stupid thing to say, sorry. Of course you know how to bandage a cut finger.” Idiot, I thought to myself. 

“Relax, Tay. I love your way of looking at the world.” he said without looking at me, still focused on the task at hand.

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re so innocent.” he said softly.

“You’ve said that before. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, though.” I wasn’t sure. Was I innocent or just ignorant?

“It’s a good thing. Tell me if it’s too tight?” he asked, finally looking up at me.

“No, it’s okay.” 

Please don’t stop. 

My finger was hurting but I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying the attention, Jesse holding my hand between his, taking care of me again. I wondered if all his patients felt that way, if he made everybody feel so comfortable while he treated them. The thought of Jesse treating patients, however, reminded me of my surprise encounter from only hours before.

“Jesse, what happened with Dylan, in the end?” I asked.

Jesse looked up at me, pausing what he was doing, still holding on to my hand. 

“I’m not really supposed to discuss other patients with non-medical staff.” he said.

“Sorry, I - of course you’re not. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Why do I keep saying the wrong thing tonight?

“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to tell you, Tay.” he said, giving me a long look. 

“Oh. I won’t - I won’t tell anyone. Not that I talk to anyone at the hospital anyway.” It was the truth. After the initial interest some of the female nurses had displayed toward me, and after I had made it pretty clear that it wasn’t mutual, they were now ignoring me, and aside from saying hello and discussing work related things, I didn’t really have any friends at the hospital. 

“There was nothing wrong with your mate Dylan. Well, actually, there’s a lot wrong with him, but medically speaking, he was perfectly fine, for someone living on the streets anyway. He had all the usual rough sleepers symptoms - cough, wheezing, but that’s it. He just wanted antibiotics, my guess is that they sell quite well on the black market at Blue City.”

“Sell them? Did you give him any?” I said, surprised. 

“I had to.” he shrugged. “You have to give these people the benefit of the doubt. It’s not for me to decide if he’s deserving of treatment or not, or to try and guess if he’s going to take the whole course or take a couple and try and make a few bucks from the rest.” 

“I guess so. It’s just that…I can’t help thinking of what he’s like, you know. Of what he did to me.” I sighed.

Jesse had started to put the medical supplies back in the zip-up case. He paused and appeared to be considering what he was going to say for a moment. 

“You know, Tay, there are a lot of arseholes in this world. A lot of bad, bad people, far worse than Dylan or guys like him. I see them all the time, they come into the ER, sometimes they’re badly hurt and there’s a cop with them. They might have just killed someone. But we patch them up, and do what we have to do, and sometimes they make it, and then on the next trolley there might be someone who won’t, despite everything we do, and for all you know they’re good people. How do you decide who’s deserving of being saved or not? Can I make that call? Do I say, no, he’s not having antibiotics because of whatever non-medical reason? Even if I’m pretty certain that the first thing that sly little shit is going to do is to try and flog those meds for three times the price, there’s a tiny, remote chance that maybe he might take them and get better and sort himself out. Or he might give them to someone who actually needs them - maybe there’ll be someone in the camp in a bad way like Zac was when you brought him to the hospital, and maybe that’ll be an opportunity for someone like Dylan to do the right thing. I don’t know. But it’s not for me or you or for anyone else to decide.”

“No, you’re right.” I said, chastened.

“And besides,” Jesse continued “look at the repercussions of what he did? You wouldn’t be here if Dylan hadn’t done a runner that night. You would have done your…deal, gone back to the camp, and that would have been that.”

“Maybe, although we might have brought Zac to the medical tent as you’d told us to do.” I objected, reluctant to give Dylan the credit for what had undoubtedly proven to be the biggest turning point in our lives recently.

“But it would have been an entirely different situation. I’d have cleaned up his wounds and sent you all back to the tent. When you called me in the middle of the night, it just …was different.” 

I remembered the conversation I’d had with my brothers - when they questioned Jesse’s real motives for his kindness. How was it different though? When he’d found us at the hospital Zac was in a much worse state. He didn’t take us back to his house then.

“Jesse…why did you take us in?”

“I don’t know, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing, I suppose.” he shrugged. “I’d never taken my patients home before, that’s for sure.” 

“But why us?” I insisted.

“I don’t know Taylor. You guys were … helpless. And you, I just …” Jesse again seemed to consider his words. “…I just knew that you were going to carry on. I knew that you’d be back on the streets the next day to feed your brothers. And I didn’t want you to get hurt again. Why are you asking me all these questions, ayway?”

“It’s just that…sometimes I wonder, you know? I wonder why we were so lucky, and what we did to deserve meeting someone like you. And now, with what we’ve found out, how can we still ask you to support us when we have …well we have a father who could.” 

Jesse’s eyes widened, and then he burst into laughter.

“You’re kidding, right? What do you think you’re going to do, pick up the phone and ask to speak to the President of CANAAN? And don’t forget that he obviously didn’t want you to find out that he was your father.”

“I know Jesse but what’s the alternative?  How long can we carry on living here, with you. What Ike makes isn’t enough to even cover the food bills.”

“Well, we’re managing. It’s not as if any of you need much.”

“Zac’s appointment with the specialist is in two weeks. You’re paying for that and what Isaac makes won’t even make a dent on the bill.”

“I know, it’s expensive. But we need to have a reliable diagnosis.” Jesse said.

“You’re saying that as if Zac was a member of your family.” 

Jesse shot me an odd look. I didn’t know if I’d just offended him, or if he couldn’t understand the point I was trying to make. 

“Taylor, the three of you have been living here under my roof for months. You’re as close as being my own family as it’s gonna get.” 

“So…is that what we are to you know? Like family?”

“I…I guess so. Why?”

“I’m trying to understand why you care about us when nobody else ever does, not even our own parents.”

“Well, let’s face it, the kind of people you’ve been surrounded by right up until now aren’t exactly well-adjusted members of society. And as for your father, that’s as crazy and complicated as it gets. I should be used to it by now - nothing involving the three of you is ever remotely normal.”

“It’s normal to us.” I said.

“Yeah, I know.” Jesse looked at me as if he was evaluating something - studying me. Suddenly I felt naked, exposed. How much did he know about how I felt about him - did he feel the same way too? I’d tried to find out before, back when we’d got drunk and crashed in our motel room on the way to San Diego. I was still convinced that he’d just evaded the question back then. Was there ever going to be a good time to breach the subject?

Probably not. 

It’s now or never.

“Jesse-” I started, suddenly aware that my heart was thumping in my chest .

“What?” Jesse blinked, I wasn’t sure if it was out of annoyance, or if he sensed that an uncomfortable question was about to follow.

“So…we’re like brothers to you, right?”

“Um, yes. I guess? Talking of brothers, shouldn’t Ike and Zac be back any minute now?” Jesse said, changing the subject.

“They’ve probably being force-fed by one of the neighbours. You know what it’s like.” 

Isaac had left a note,  scribbled in pencil in his shaky, inexperienced handwriting, to say that they were working upstairs. Knowing that my brothers weren’t there somehow gave me the courage to carry on talking - after all, there was nobody else but me to witness the outcome.

“Jesse, am I like a brother to you?” I said, barely hiding the shakiness in my voice. 

“Where are you going with this, Taylor?” 

“I’m trying to find out once and for all if I’m just seeing things. If I’m deluding myself.” I said in one single breath.

“Deluding yourself of what?” he said, with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t know. That you maybe felt different about me.”

A long moment ticked by, and I took that as encouragement to carry on. 

If I’m going to make a fool of myself, I might as well do it now, once for all. 

“I was kind of hoping that you felt that I was more than just a brother to you.” I said, forcing myself to hold his gaze, even if my cheeks were burning. 

“I think your concept of ‘being like brothers” is not the same as mine, Taylor.”

“You know what exactly what I meant. Come on Jesse, for once, don’t try and change the subject.” I said. Jesse had a way of deflecting uncomfortable conversations that in anyone else, I would have found totally infuriating.

“Tay-”

“It’s ok, I know, I know you’re not …you know, that you had a girlfriend. It’s just that sometimes I can’t help thinking that you feel the same.”

Jesse looked at me, still not saying anything. Now I was beginning to lose my patience.

“Why don’t you put me out of my misery once and for all, Jesse? Just tell me how you feel about me, because I need to know either way. Please.” As soon as I’d said that, my chest tightened with worry. What if I’d ruined everything - what if Jesse decided that it was all going to be too awkward between us? I had a responsibility towards my brothers. I imagined the conversation we’d be having if we’d have to move out because of me. Sorry, Ike, sorry Zac. I fucked up.

“Tay, it’s complicated. I didn’t plan to feel like this.” Jesse said, quietly. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…I spend most of my time outside work with you, Tay. That should tell you something.” he said. 

“So…do you care about me?”

Jesse sighed. 

“Of course I do.”

“So…that time in the motel…when I asked you if you’d ever been with a guy, did you mean-”

“You were drunk that night.”

“I know I was, but I don’t think you told me the truth when I asked you the next day.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”  

“Why doesn’t it matter?” I insisted.

“Because, as I said, it’s complicated. Taylor, seriously. This is just as complicated as it gets.”

“But … that doesn’t make it go away!”

“Jesus Christ, Taylor. Do I have to spell it out? We live together. You sleep with your own brother. Brothers, actually. God, I don’t even know what the combinations are anymore!” Jesse rolled his eyes. “Zac might be blind, but he still watches you like a hawk. And lately Isaac’s become really possessive, too.”

“Is that what the problem is? Jesse, my brothers are okay with this. We’ve talked about it. They know how I feel about you and they understand.” My words burst out in a breathless rush of relief. He’s just worried that brothers will be jealous.

Jesse suddenly looked horrified.

“You talked to them about ..what?”

“About how I feel about you. Zac kind of brought it up. At first he was difficult about it but then … he understood.”

“And what exactly did he understand, Taylor?” Jesse resting his elbows on the table. He put his hands by the side of his temples, rubbing his skin so that his face appeared unnaturally stretched. 

“That …I want to know what it’s like to…be with someone else. Someone who isn’t my brother, or an officer, or someone who is paying me.”

Jesse closed his eyes and sighed.

“Awesome.” He covered his face with his hands, interlocked his fingers together, resting his chin on his thumbs. “So, now that you have his blessing, what happens? Do we just jump into bed? Do I even get a say in any of this?”

“Jesse don’t be like that.” I said.

“Why not? Isn’t that what you want? And then what?”

“I …. I don’t know, Jesse. I’m just telling how I feel about you. I wasn’t…”

“Yeah, you’re just saying, I get it. But what if anything did happen between us? What’s gonna happen afterwards, uh? Are we going to live happily ever after?”

“I don’t know, but my brothers are okay with it so-”

“So fucking what? What about me? What if I’m not cool with you hopping back into bed with your brothers? Jesus, even just saying it sounds insane.”. Jesse leaned back in the chair and held his head between his hands, his eyes turned to the ceiling.

“Jesse…”

“Honestly, does it even ever cross your mind that you have one seriously fucked up relationship with your brothers? Do you really want to drag me in the middle of it? Do you honestly think that there’s going to be a happy ending for an Outsider? The three of you are like…a fucking three headed monster. There is no space for anyone else, Taylor. Can’t you see that?”

I opened my mouth to say something but my throat was suddenly dry: Jesse had never raised his voice with me before. I’d pushed him into a corner, and hadn’t expected to hear him say that what had been holding him back was my relationship with my brothers. Part of me was happy, even if I’d made him mad - because now he’d pretty much admitted that he cared about me.

There’s no space for anyone else. So that’s what it was. Of course, Jesse didn’t know what it was like to be one of us. Or maybe he knew too much already - he knew that I could never give up what I had with my brothers. The sheer thought of it was absurd, like asking for one of my limbs to be severed.  We both knew I could never choose.

“I’m sorry.” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. Sorry.

Jesse softened.

“Don’t be.”

“Well, I am.” I shrugged. “You don’t need this. You don’t need more complications.”

He let out a little laugh. “It’s a bit late for that. Nothing involving you, or your brothers, is straightforward.” He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“I don’t know why you still put up with us.” I asked. I knew what answer I was fishing for.

“What else am I going to do with you? Throw you out on the street?” he said, laughing, as he began to get up. “And then what are you going to do? Get into trouble again?” 

“Seriously, though. If we could get some money out of the President…if we could move out, if you wanted us to - if that was better for you, then we’d have to find a way to do it.” I said. The words had come out of my mouth without much thinking, and I surprised myself because the last thing I wanted was to leave the place we now called home, not to mention leaving Jesse. But I was serious. I’d do it for him.

“Sure, good luck getting through to the President’s private line.” Jesse said over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen counter, surveying my half-finished dinner preparations.

I followed him and placed myself on his side, forcing him to look at me.

“No, I mean it, Jesse. If …this isn’t right for you, we’ll find a way.”

Jesse looked at me with a mix of amusement and wonder.

“Taylor, I don’t know how you came to that conclusion but let me be clear about this once and for all. You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here.”

He put both hands on my shoulders, his fingers tightening around my skin a little more tightly than I had expected.

“Right here?” I gestured with my fingers at our surroundings. 

“Right here.”

“Is that what you want?” 

“That’s absolutely, one-hundred percent, what I want.” 

His fingers slipped down from my shoulder to the top of my arm, and he pulled me closer to him, so close that I didn’t know what to do with my hands until I had no choice but to rest them on his chest. As my palms made contact with the fabric of his shirt, I could feel his heart, slamming against his ribs. I leaned back a little to look at him, to try and decipher him; and, not for the first time, it crossed my mind that Jesse would have been the ideal Flock member - so guarded, so controlled.

“Jesse, wh-”

“Shush.” He blinked slowly, then put his hands over mine and held them there, my palms warm and flat against his beating chest. I waited - for Jesse to do something, say something, too worried of making the wrong move, of saying the wrong thing. 

If this is all I can get, I want it to last as long as possible.

Then, just as the moment had come, it was over.

“Now, we’d better finish making dinner before your brothers get back.” Jesse said, giving my hands a little squeeze, before letting them go. Reluctantly, I let my palms slide off him. 

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s almost Zac feeding time.” I said with a forced laugh. A second later, a jangling of keys was followed by the front door clicking open. My brothers were home. 

——

By the time my brothers had come out of the shower - which was something they had started to do together, with the excuse that it was quicker - dinner was almost ready. I was stirring the sauce that simmered on the hob when the familiar, cautious steps signalled my younger brother’s arrival. Even if, by now, he knew his way around the apartment, he still moved slowly, deliberately, feeling his way along the furniture and walls, upon parts of which my brother’s often less-than-clean hands had left greasy paw-like prints. Isaac kept offering to paint over them, to which Jesse would inevitably reply that they’d just get dirty again.

“Hey, Tay.” Zac greeted me as he appeared through the kitchen doorway. 

“Hey buddy.” I said, holding out my hand, while he took a few, careful step towards me.

“What’cha makin?” he asked in a sing-song cadence, sniffing the air as he stuck his chin over my shoulder.

“It’s a surprise. How was your day?”

“It was ok. Mrs Krasowski kept us there for ages. She was going on and on about the President, how he’s practically going to save the world. Had to bite my tongue.”

“I bet.” I said, shuddering at the thought of my brother blurting out that the newly elected President of CANAAN was our long-lost father. “Did she feed you, at least?”

“She didn’t! We just had a couple of cookies with our drinks, and that was it. Last time we were there we’d had a really nice cherry pie.” he said, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“That’s shocking. What does she expect, that you’re going to work for her for just…money?” I said in mock outrage.

“I know, right? I could be starving by now!” my brother said. He pressed himself against my back, pushing his hands under my arms until he could place his palms on my chest. He was still warm from the shower. “Starving.” he said softly, rubbing his head on the side of my head, his stubble tickling my skin. 

“I’m trying to cook, Zac.” I protested.

“I’m not stopping you.” he said, running the palms of his hands down to my waist, his fingers purposely digging into the fat I’d put on in recent months. 

“Zac, do you want to eat tonight, or not?” I said, moving his hands away. “I need to get to the oven door.”

My brother let go of me completely and stood back. 

“Sorry. I just …I haven’t seen you all day.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get dinner ready.” I said, stroking his face with my injured hand. 

“What’s on your finger? A bandage?” my brother asked, putting his hand over mine.

“Yeah, I cut myself earlier. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. Jesse had to put these sticky strips of paper to close the cut together.”

“Lucky that Jesse was there.” my brother said, still holding my hand.

“Yeah.” Did I detect something in Zac’s tone? Was I imagining things?

“Does it still hurt?” 

“A little. But I’ll live.” I said. “Now can I have my hand back?”

“In a moment. I don’t have strips of sticky paper but I can still kiss it better.” As he said that, he placed a tiny kiss on my bandaged finger, so lightly that I wouldn’t even had noticed if I hadn’t seen him do it. “Better?” my brother looked up at me, his lips still almost touching my skin.

“Yeah.” I said in strangled whisper, my gaze fixed on my my brother’s mouth. He had the most beautiful, fullest lips I’d ever seen, and seeing him kiss my finger was causing all sorts of reactions inside me that I really didn’t need at that moment, not with food almost ready, not with Jesse around in the next room.

“That’s what mom used to do when we were kids, remember?” Zac said, kissing my finger again.

“Yeah, I remember.” Frankly, our childhood memories were the last thing on my mind right now and my brother knew it. 

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Isaac asked with a smirk as  he walked in.

“I -, erm, no, dinner’s almost ready.” I said, stirring the contents of the pan with my free hand, the other still trapped in my younger brother’s grip. 

“Uh-uh. Sure.” Isaac looked at me up and down, chuckling to himself.

“What?” I said, instantly knowing answer. “Shit.” 

Awesome timing. I pulled my hand away from Zac and turned to face the stove, as I tugged at the fabric of my pants to adjust myself.  After all those years, my younger brother could still get me all worked up by just looking at me in a certain way. He knew the effect he had on me, and I knew that he knew, but still I fell for it every single time, as if there were some kind of mutual understanding that we were caught into something inevitable and inescapable. But right now, the last thing I wanted was for Jesse to come in and see the evidence of my attraction for my own brother - not after the conversation we’d just had. All the same, I couldn’t help a pang of guilt for feeling so self-conscious of something that had never been a source of embarrassment before. There was nothing wrong about the way I felt about my brother. Nothing.

“You okay, Tay?” Isaac said in my ear as he placed his hand on my waist. “You look a bit…flushed.” he chuckled softly. 

“Ike, not you as well. Please.” I pleaded. My brothers were messing with me at the worst possible time. It wasn’t even funny.

“All right, all right. Sorry.” my brother said, the teasing now gone from his voice. “I’ll set the table. Where’s Jesse?” 

“Did anyone call me?” Jesse said, walking into the kitchen. “How’s your finger?” he asked, lifting his chin in my direction.

“A bit sore but it’s okay. Dinner’s ready.” I said, hoping that by now the bulge in my pants had gone down. 

“Good. I’m starving. You must be, too, after the day you’ve had.” 

“Why, what happened?” Isaac asked.

“You haven’t told them?” Jesse asked.

“Told us what?” Zac echoed.

I had almost forgotten about earlier.

“Ah, yes. I meant to say. Earlier, at the hospital - I saw Dylan.”

 

——

“I always thought he was a dick. But let’s face it, it was also because of him that we ended up living here.” Zac had declared, matter-of-factly, once I told him and Isaac of my encounter with Dylan. Once again, my younger brother had perfectly summed up the situation, which made me wonder at what point, exactly, had Zac become so wise for his years? 

I looked around the table - Zac, Isaac, Jesse: there was no-one else I’d rather be with. I thought of our father, of how, maybe, right now he was sharing a meal with his own family - with his wife, with Marcia, our sister, whom we’d never have the chance to meet.

What if this is as good as it gets? I wondered. What if this is as good as it gets.

Chapter Text

I looked outside. Clouds rolled toward me like bales of cotton wool, disappearing into puffs of nothing as the metal wings sliced through them one after another. The sun shone through the small, rounded window, and I could feel the heat on my face, but I didn’t want to look away. I’d never been so close to the sun.

I was flying.

 

Zac’s hand rested on my thigh, where it had been since we’d boarded the plane. My legs were hot under the sun rays that pierced through the window pane, and my brother’s big, chubby hand felt warm and clammy through my jeans. I put my hand over his, trying to subtly move it, but my brother raised his fingers and then lowered them again, trapping my fingers between his. I turned to look at the open sky again. Being too warm was a small price to pay for that view.

Taking off into the sky had been a strange sensation, not entirely pleasant and yet oddly exhilarating. Zac had been digging his fingers in my thigh while Isaac, who was sitting behind us, had reached over to the back of my seat and gripped my shoulder really tightly. He’d only let go of me when the aircraft had stopped its ascent and straightened again. 

Only then our breaths had finally steadied, and the queasiness in my gut had subsided.

Very soon we’d meet him.

—— 

“Mr Jordan Taylor Anderson?” - I’d opened the door to see two men in black suits asking for me.

Not the Flock again, I thought.

“Who are you?” I’d asked, as it dawned on me that The CoR only knew me as “Taylor”.

“Are your brothers also here?”

“Yes but who are-” 

“Agent Landis and Agent Elwood, CANAAN Marshals. We are here under orders from President Charlton McAllister.” 

The man had flashed a badge and before I’d even known what was happening, they’d walked in and shut the door behind them. 

—

“Go with you - where?”

“With all due respect, Agent Lanwood, we have no way of knowing if you really are who you say you are.” Isaac said.

“Yeah, how do we know he sent you? We fell for this kind of trick once before and we ended up having coffee and cookies with DuVall for a whole afternoon!” Zac said.

The younger-looking Marshal, Agent Elwood, looked questioningly at his partner.

“That’s their mother’s husband.” Agent Landis explained. He turned to us again. “We have no connection to your mother, nor her husband. Nor their …religious community. We’re here on behalf of the President and as we speak there’s a plane waiting on the runway at the City Military Airport to take you to him.”

“A plane? wh-” I was interrupted by keys turning in the front door lock, announcing that Jesse was home. 

“What’s going on?” he said, looking at the Marshals. 

A look passed between the Landis and Elwood.

“You must be Dr Adams.”Landis said.

Jesse should be at work right now. They didn’t expect him to be here.

“Jesse - why aren’t you at work?” I asked.

“A mix-up with the roster. Who are these people?” he said, looking the Marshals up and down. 

“Apparently the President sent them! Like we’re going to fall for that!” Zac scoffed.

“Wait… that car outside-” Jesse said, pointing to somewhere behind him.

“Yes. Now perhaps you could persuade your friends to come with us, as any time wasted here will mean less time available for their private conference with the President.” Landis said.

“What about the car?” Isaac asked Jesse.

“It’s an unmarked black Oblivion. The only time I’ve seen one is when some big-shot government person visits the hospital. I don’t think they’re for sale to the general public.” 

“That is correct.” Elwood said.

“So you think they’re actually who they say they are?” I asked. 

“Well, I don’t know, I’ve never received a visit from the President’s security before.”

The agents simultaneously shifted their weight from one foot to the other, as if they were also simultaneously beginning to lose their patience. Landis looked at his watch. Elwood crossed his arms.

“So, what do we do?” I asked Jesse.

“There’s only one thing you can do. Go and meet the President.”

—

The agents insisted that we leave with them immediately adding that there was no need to pack a bag - we’d be back by evening.  We got our coats and were ready to go, when Isaac disappeared into the bathroom. It was annoying, but hardly surprising: my brother’s nerves usually manifested themselves through an upset stomach. While we waited for him, I noticed that Jesse had taken his coat off. 

“What are you doing?” I asked him. “You’re going to need that.”

“He’s not coming.” Elwood said.

“What?”

“Tay. This is something between you guys and… the President. I can’t go with you.”

“But we can’t go without you!” I protested. “He’s got to come with us! Otherwise we’re not going either!” I turned to the Marshals. I was frantic.

“I’m sorry, he doesn’t have clearance.” 

“Have what? You can ring the President now and make him give him clearance! You’re the Presidential security, you can do whatever you want!”

“Tay-”

“Please calm down, sir.”

“I’m perfectly calm!”

“TAYLOR!” 

I flinched. Jesse never usually raised his voice.

“Tay, you’re going to be fine. I have to go to work in a few hours and couldn’t go with you even if they allowed me.” he said.

“But we can’t do this on our own, Jesse.” I begged.

“You’re going to have to, this time. I’m sorry, Tay, but there’s no other way.”

I didn’t want to hear that. Jesse had always been there with us when we needed him, and now we were supposed to board a plane and go and meet the President on our own? Assuming that it really was the President waiting for us at the other end, and not a delegation of CoR muscle sent to take us back to the Compound. 

I racked my brain to think of ways I could stall things and reasons for Jesse to come, when Isaac emerged ashen-face from the bathroom.

“Are we going then, Tay?” 

 

I said an awkward goodbye to Jesse - the Marshals were standing there, itching to get us out of the house. 

“Bye then,”  I said, trying to look casual, my hands stuffed deep inside my pockets. He gave me a little smile and a nod. I was already by the door when it dawned on me that that might be the last time I saw him. I turned around, rushed back inside and threw my arms around Jesse, holding him tight until he had no choice but to hold me too. I could feel the Marshals’ eyes drill into my back but I didn’t care. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Jesse said when he eventually managed to detach himself from me.

“See you later, then.”, I said in return, wishing I could share Jesse’s optimism.

——

“So, are you going to tell us where we’re going?” I asked the Marshals, leaning over the two seats in front of me. They’d hardly spoken to us since leaving the house, completely ignoring our rapid-fire questions. “Negative.” said Landis, his eyes fixed on something he was reading on a tablet device.

“Oh, come on. It’s not as if we can get away now. Or tell anyone.” I insisted.

Elwood tilted his head to the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh. 

“Hey, were you asleep?” Zac asked as he stuck his finger in the gaps between the two seats, making both Marshals jump slightly. 

“This is going to be a long flight.” Elwood muttered, loud enough for us to hear.

“All right.” Landis relented. “You’re going to meet the President at a government facility upstate. He will make a stopover there while en route to another destination.”

“What kind of government facility are we talking about?” I asked.

“It’s a military airstrip. No duty free store. That’s all you need to know for now.” Landis said.

“Well that wasn’t that hard, was it?” Zac said before I pulled him back onto his seat. I didn’t want us to push our luck with the Marshals.

“I just hope it’s really him.” my brother said after a while. “If we end up back at the Compound…well, that’s it for all of us.” 

“We’re not going back to the Compound. I think we’re really heading north.”

“What is it like?”

“What is what like?”

“What is it like to look down from the sky? Are we above the clouds?” 

“Yeah. We’re above the clouds.”

“Tell me what you see.”

“Well…okay, right now… I can see some big clouds, and when we pass through them they kind of disappear. Like…we’re going through a thick fog and then it’s clear again. And I can see houses below…like a grid of houses and buildings. We must be passing over a town, maybe one of City’s suburbs. I can make out a river, and the highways. They’re like a junction of strings, criss-crossing the land, shooting out in every direction. It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe when we get home I can try and describe it again and you can try to draw it?” 

My brother closed his eyes. A smile crept up his lips.

“I’d like that. By the way, what’s Ike doing?”

“Good question. He’s been really quiet.”

I turned to look behind us: my older brother was sitting on his own, hugging his folded up coat, eyes tightly shut. When we’d boarded the plane, the flight attendant had offered to take our coats to store them in the overhead locker, but Isaac had insisted to keep his with him - and now he was holding on to the woolly jacket as if his life depended on it.

“Ike, are you okay?” 

“Hmm-hmm.” 

“You don’t look okay.” I said, trying to hide my amusement.

“Is he okay?” Zac asked.

“I’m fine - just…leave me alone.” Isaac said in little more than a whisper, his eyes still squeezed shut.

I took the empty seat by my older brother and touched him gently on the shoulder. 

“Leave me alone” he said, shrinking away from me, his fingers tightly clasped around a fistful of coat.

“Ike, it’s okay, we’re not going to crash. It looks awesome from up here. Come on, now, open your eyes.”

“No way. If I open my eyes, I’ll throw up.” he said through gritted teeth.

“You won’t, I promise. Although if you really must, you can do it in this bag, apparently.” I said, picking up the thick, waxed paper bag from the seat pocket in front of me.

In that moment the flight attendant appeared, pushing a trolley. 

“Would you gentlemen like some refreshments?” she said.

“Really? What kind of refreshments?” Zac asked.

“Well, we have soft drinks, beer, wine, including champagne, hot drinks-” 

“I’ll have a soda. Do you have Mountain Dew?” Zac cut her off.

“Sure.” The flight attendant smiled sweetly as she unlocked the tray on the seat in front of my brother. She filled a tumbler with ice and a slice of lemon, and poured in half the contents of the can.

“Something to eat, too?” she asked, placing the tumbler on the tray. 

As I expected, my younger brother had the flight attendant list all the available choices of light snacks, picking various things off the list until his tray was almost entirely covered. 

“Thank you!” he beamed in her general direction.

“My pleasure sir, my colleague will bring your salt beef and cheese melt over from the galley shortly.”  she said, looking adoringly at my brother. What is it with Zac and women..? I thought.

“And you sirs, would you like any refreshments?” the flight attendant asked once she’d accepted that she’d lost my brother’s attention to food.

 She smiled pleasantly at me and Isaac, who was still hugging his folded up coat with his eyes tightly shut.

 The flight attendant turned to look at me expectantly. 

“Ike, would you like a drink? They have food too.” I said, placing a hand on his arm.

“No thanks can’t eat now.” he said in one single breath.

“Don’t you want to drink something, at least?” 

“No.”

“I’ll have a beer. And maybe I’ll get a whisky for him.” I said to the flight attendant.

“Wise idea.” she said in a conspiratorial tone. “It tends to help nervous flyers.”

Isaac’s drink sat untouched for a few minutes while I sipped my beer. A quick glance at the seat in front of me confirmed that Zac was busy demolishing his sandwich: for once, it was my big brother I had to worry about. Without saying anything, I put my hand over his and left it there until I felt his fingers let go of the coat and grip mine tightly instead.  

After a few minutes, he finally opened his eyes. 

“Welcome back.” I said. “Now look at me.”

My brother turned to face me, his jaw still clenched.

“Ike, it’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be just fine.” I said. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol entering my bloodstream, or just the strange circumstances in which we, once again, had found ourselves. But I really wasn’t worried anymore. I had a feeling that actually, everything would be just fine. 

“I hope you’re right.” my brother said, gingerly picking up the tumbler in front of him. He put it under his nose and sniffed it before taking a small, tentative sip. “Thanks Tay.” he said with a sheepish look.

“Are you going to take a look outside now?” I said.

“I might need to drink more of this before I do that.”

He swirled the whisky around in the tumbler, making the ice cubes clink against the glass. Finally my brother took a big gulp and steeled himself, before turning to face the window. He slowly, gingerly, lowered his eyes and looked down.

“So, what do you think?”

“It’s…umm, impressive. But I’d still rather be on the ground, to be honest with you.” he said in a shaky voice.

“We’ll be on the ground soon enough.” I said, relaxing back onto my seat.

My brother brought the tumbler to his lips again and swallowed what was left of the whisky with a grimace.

“Too soon.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

After we got off the plane, the Marshals ushered us into a waiting black car, and we were driven to an anonymous grey building close to the airstrip. It could have been an office block or a hotel - or even a prison, for all we knew. Inside, there was no front desk - and no soldiers or Marshal-looking agents in sight - not even a single police officer. If this was where we were about to meet the President of CANAAN, it didn’t seem to be very secure at all. It can’t be another Satellite Center, I told myself. They wouldn’t have flown us all the way here here. My stomach contracted with a painful cramp: it hadn’t taken long for the liquor-induced relaxation to wane. I hope they’ll let me use the bathroom, I thought, cursing my inability to control my body’s reaction to stress.

We followed the agents down a long corridor carpeted in a repeating geometric pattern that played tricks with my eyes, causing the floor to appear to be regenerating itself under my steps. The overall effect was a nausea-inducing hallucination of brown, and I was relieved when we reached the very last room in the corridor and the Marshals stopped.  Landis pressed his finger into a small screen built into the door lock, and showed us into into a large room with two couches facing each other, and two matching armchairs to the sides. A kitchenette and a small round table and chairs occupied a corner at the far end. The walls were scuffed in places and the furnishings had seen better days: I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to stay in such a place.

“Take a seat.” Landis said, gesturing at the couches. “Please” he added.

“Can you tell us where we are?” I asked.

“This is a WITSEC Transition Center. We can’t disclose our exact location, but I can tell you that it was chosen to allow the highest privacy for you and the President.” Landis said.

“Wit..what?” I asked.

“Witness Security Programme.” 

“And what’s that?” Taylor asked.

A exchange of looks took place between the Marshals.

“WITSEC is a government programme designed to protect threatened witnesses before, during, and after a trial.” Elwood recited mechanically.

“Oh. I…see.” I said, unconvinced.

Elwood looked at us for a couple of moments and then his face softened. 

“People who give evidence against the really bad guys put their lives in danger. The government provides these people with a new identity, new names, new addresses, a whole new made-up life, basically. Witnesses entering the programme are initially moved into places like this one, until their new lives have been established and they’re ready to re-enter the outside world in complete safety.”

“Wow, the government can do that?” Taylor asked.

“You don’t know much, do you?” Landis said, amused. “The government can do anything.”

That can’t always be a good thing, I thought to myself as took in my surroundings. I noticed that the room only had one window which was set at  shoulder-height and ran along the longest wall. From where I sat, I couldn’t see much other than the pale blue sky outside.

“So, where is he?” Zac asked.

“The President is already here.” Landis said.

“He is? Why aren’t you taking us to him then?” I said.

“Just following orders. Please be patient.” 

“Is he really here?” Taylor said, looking around the room, as if the President of CANAAN could really be hiding behind the couch. 

“He’s in the building. Just going through some security procedures. Won’t be long now.” Elwood said, looking at the device he was wearing on his wrist. It looked like a cellphone but smaller. Both Marshals wore tiny earpieces which connected to each other via a thin spiral lead behind their neck. Something was pinned to the lapels of their suits too - a minuscule black round ball - no bigger than the top of a matchstick. A microphone, I thought, and suddenly everything seemed just a little too crazy - the three of us, waiting for the President of CANAAN in a secret government location with men wearing earpieces and talking into hidden microphones. My stomach lurched.

“Can I use the bathroom?”

 

I re-emerged a few minutes later, my stomach a little emptier and my nerves a little calmer after splashing some cold water on my face. 

The bathroom was accessed through a bedroom of similar décor to the main room, with enough space for two queen beds and a large closet. A framed print of a flower arrangement hung on the opposite wall to the bed, and on the side wall was another long window. I peered outside, searching for a barbed wire fence, a high wall - anything indicating high security, but all I could see was flat land.

“All okay?” Elwood stood by the door.

“I was just wondering - you said we’d be back home by tonight.” 

“That’s correct.”

“Right. I just thought, you know, the bedroom.”

“This is a WITSEC apartment. Folks have to sleep somewhere.” he said flatly.

As long as it’s not us. I just want to get this over and done with and go home, I thought, throwing one last glance behind me before following the Marshal out of the room. No sooner had I sat down again again than Landis suddenly sat up straight, pressing down on his earpiece with his index finger. “Roger that.” he said. “Standing by.”

He stood up in one sharp movement. “The President is ready to see you.”

——

Unsure as to what what we were supposed to do, we stood up. I was half expecting other men in suits to appear, more security procedures to take place. Instead, the door clicked open. Thank you, I’ll take it from here, a familiar voice said, and the President walked in. He looked just like the man we’d seen on TV, only taller - he was at least as tall as Taylor. 

“Marshals,” he greeted Landis and Elwood with a curt nod. “Can you give us some privacy, please.” 

“Well.” he said once the door clacked to.

“Hello.” I said, instantly cringing at my choice of greeting.

“Mr President.” Taylor said. Zac said nothing.

The President gave us a long look, assessing us the way we’d seen him do with audiences before a televised speech. The corners of his mouth lifted in a reassuring smile. 

He held his hand out. “You must be Isaac.”

“Um, yes, Sir.” I stuttered. His handshake was strong and assertive. As my hand made contact with his, I became painfully aware of my sweaty palms. Good start, I thought.

“I’m Taylor.” my brother said as the President held out his hand again.

“Taylor.” McAllister repeated, before turning to Zac. He paused and looked at my younger brother with a mixture of pity and curiosity.

“Zac,” Taylor said, putting his hand on my younger brother shoulder, as if to push him forward.

“Hi.”

“Hello Zac.” the President said, holding out his hand. When my brother didn’t offer his own hand in return, the President patted Zac’s arm lightly above the elbow instead.

“I’m sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances. As I’m sure you will appreciate, this is a very delicate situation.” he said.

“We didn’t think you wanted to meet us, um, Sir.” I said.

“Please - no need to be so formal. Just…Charlie will do.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you Sir. Erm, Charlie.” 

The President’s mouth curved into a genuine smile. At least my inability to say anything articulate had helped break the ice. 

“Let’s sit down, shall we?” he said.

 The three of us moved hesitantly to one of the couches. We stood awkwardly until the President had taken his seat on the opposite one. “Please”, he said, gesturing for us to sit down. 

I gingerly lowered myself onto the couch, perching myself on the edge of the cushion, while Taylor guided Zac to take his place between us.

“So.” The President began.

I leaned forward, my arms resting on my knees. Taylor crossed one leg over the other, then quickly uncrossed it. Zac sat still.  

“So…” the President said. “I never thought this would happen. I thought you were at the Compound, with your mother.”

“We were, until only a few months ago.” I said. 

“Why did you decide to see us, in the end?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah, what made you change your mind all of a sudden?” Zac added before our father had the time to reply to Taylor’s question. 

“Change my mind?” he said.

“Yeah, first you sent your guy to try and stop us when we were trying to find out who you were, and now you send a plane to pick us up and fly us to the middle of nowhere to meet you?” Zac said. 

“Zac, don’t be so rude.” Taylor said.

“Wait, wait - it’s really more complicated than that.” The President said. 

“How? You did everything you could to stop us from finding you, then you changed your mind. What we want to know is, why?” Zac asked.

“I didn’t change my mind. I only found out that you’d left the Compound a couple of weeks ago.” he said.

“What?” I gasped in surprise, echoed by my brothers.

“Yes, and that was entirely by accident. A junior member of my electronic surveillance team asked me if I wanted to keep the flag on the brothers active, or if they were no longer persons of interest. The poor kid turned as white a sheet when he realised that I had no idea of what he was talking about.” the President scoffed. “He made some excuse that he’d got the wrong end of the stick but of course I didn’t believe him. Once I promised him that I wouldn’t fire him, he told me the whole story. My closest aide had been monitoring your movements right from the moment you tried to access your official records. He’d had a flag placed on the system back when I’d decided to run for President - it was only meant to be a precautionary measure. When you’re in politics… if you run for office you have to disclose every skeleton in your closet to someone you trust, so that they can prepare a defence for any possible attacks from the opposition, who will use anything to try to discredit you.”

“So, we’re the skeletons?” Zac said.

“Please. Let me finish.” the President, said, lifting a hand. “My aide worked on his own - the surveillance technician and the intelligence boffins who helped him didn’t know who you were. There are dozens of “persons of interest” flagged for surveillance during a presidential campaign. And when you turned up in the City out of the blue…well, he knew that if he told me I’d want to meet you, and he thought it was too big a risk at that stage in the presidential campaign.”

“So, are you saying that your guy didn’t tell you?” Taylor asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought the President knew everything.” Zac said.

“I wasn’t the President yet, but even so, a President only knows what his staff tell him.”

“Your aide…so it was he who got us kidnapped by the Flock again! We could have ended up back at the Compound because of him!” I said.

“It was all his idea. When I confronted him about what the surveillance tech had told me, he came clean. He thought that steering you back to the Compound was the best solution for everybody. He genuinely acted in my own interest.” our father said, with a resigned smile.

“I hope you fired him!” Zac spat.

“That would have been very foolish of me. Sure, at first I was mad at him, but really, that’s exactly the kind of person a politician needs working for them. Someone who only acts in your best interest.”

“But…how do you know that we know? I mean, we only figured it out a few weeks ago, when you were elected. I - well, it just clicked.” I said. I was embarrassed to say that I’d recognised his voice from so many years ago. The man sitting in front of me might have been our biological father but he was also a complete stranger.

“Ah, well, you see, my aide had you under surveillance so…the data he’d gathered led him to believe that you’d found out the truth.” he said. 

“In other words, he had us spied?” I asked, horrified.

“He monitored you.” the President said, tilting his head from side to side. “After this meeting today, the surveillance will be terminated and all data deleted. You have my word.”

“Sure, we believe that.” Zac said.

An embarrassed silence followed - the only audible noise coming from the soft whirring of the air conditioning vent on a corner of the wall. I wondered if the long, narrow windows that flanked the room actually opened for air, or if we were actually sealed in.

“We thought you didn’t want us to find you.” Taylor said, eventually. “It made sense. You left us so … why would you want us to find you anyway.” he continued, almost as if speaking to himself.

“Yes, I did. I did leave you. And I thought I’d never see you again. I thought you were safe, and I truly believed that it was better for all of us if you stayed with your mother. And then, when I heard you were out, all logic went out of the window.” 

Our father looked intently at Taylor, and then at Zac and me. He looked different now from the politician we’d seen on TV. He looked as if the gloss of his public image had been washed off and what was left was just a man who happened to be our father.

“Well, you found us now.” I said after a while. “So, I guess the least  you can do is tell us why you ditched mom and left us in that place. You owe us an explanation.” 

The President drew in deep breath. He was steeling himself for the question he had no doubt been expecting. As a politician, he must have been prepared to answer difficult questions, and he’d had a lifetime to prepare for this one.

“Yes, I do.” he said, nodding his head repeatedly. “I do owe you an explanation, but I can tell you right away that it won’t be enough, and you won’t feel any better for hearing it. I’m not going to lie to you.” 

“I think at this point we’ve heard so much crazy stuff that nothing is going to surprise us anymore.” I said.

“That’s true. You’ve been through a lot, I know.” he said.

“You know nothing. You have no idea of what we’ve been through.” Zac said. 

“Zac, just …give him a chance now.” Taylor said.

“No, he’s right.” McAllister said. “I can’t say I know what things have been like for you over the years. In fact, it’s worse than that - because I had an idea of what went on with the CoR and I knew that you had to live in that world but I couldn’t stop it. That’s actually worse, right, Zachary?” 

“Nobody calls me Zachary.” my brother snapped. 

The President’s lips strained to resist a smile, but the creases around his eyes gave it away. I wondered how much of his younger self the President could now see on our younger brother.

“Of course. It’s Zac, right?”

“Yeah. But go on, say what you have to say, let’s hear it. Might as well as we’re here.” Zac said, flopping back against the couch.

The President couldn’t suppress his smile anymore, and for a second he seemed to just want to observe our brother, as if he were some kind of strange specimen from another world. Maybe to an Outsider he was.

“Anyway,” the President went on. “Your mother forced me to chose between her and a political career. I chose the latter.” he said in the matter-of-fact tone of a man who had never needed to apologise for his actions. “I was very young when you were born, Isaac.” he said, turning to me. “I met your mother when I was going through my rebellious phase. I planned to go to law school, become a human rights lawyer and save the world. And the world was changing in those days, before CANAAN. America had changed, for the worse, and all I wanted was to be in a position of power to make a difference. I met Olivia at a public demonstration - she was a true believer of people power. It was obvious right from the start that she was very different from the type of girls I’d come across in my social circle. She didn’t care about shoes and clothes, material things - she had ideas. Olivia was different.”

“So, what went wrong?” I asked.

“What went wrong was that I got older, and gradually I saw that the kind of lifestyle that your mother wanted was a million years away from what I wanted. I’d toyed with rebellion but …when you come from money, and from a certain type of society, well, let me tell you, nobody really wants to turn their back to all of that. Anyone who says so is lying.” he said.

“Did Mom not want to be rich?” Taylor asked.

“Your mother despised my background, and all that my family stood for. She wanted us to move as far away from them as possible and live together in a trailer, go to protests and grow our own vegetables. At least that was at the beginning, and it was harmless enough.”

“She never said anything to us about growing vegetables.” Zac said.

“Oh, she moved on from that hippie nonsense eventually, and then began to associate with some more sinister company - the followers of the CoR. It was all softly-softly at first but she wanted to drag me into it. That’s when I realised that it couldn’t carry on.” 

“And it took you what, over five years to figure it out? During which you had three children with her?” Zac said.

“I loved her.” the President said. “If you’ve ever been in love with someone you’ll know that it’s never straightforward. I was young, I was in love with her and…” he paused and shook his head. 

“And what?” I asked.

The President exhaled loudly. “…and….I loved having a family. I loved you, believe it or not. It was hard to keep it a secret, not to be able to take you to the park, to go on vacation together. It was hard to only spend weekends with you, or a night here and there, knowing that I’d have to leave again. Being separated from you and your mother - was very hard.” 

“Your life was hard.” Zac said, pursing his lips. 

“With all due respect, Mr President” Taylor said, clearly struggling to keep his voice down. “However hard things were for you, it wasn’t anywhere near as hard it was for our mom, and for us. I mean… you really have no idea.” my brother let out an exasperated laugh. 

“I’m not disputing that for a second, Jordan.”   

“TAYLOR.” we all said at the same time.

The President lifted his palms in a pacifying gesture that he’d probably used with his opponents on countless occasions.

“All right. All right. Look, we’re not trying to score points here. I’m just telling you what happened. It was a long time ago and I was young and…ambitious. I tried to make things work, to bring up a family and to have a career, but it got to a point where your mother gave me an ultimatum: her lifestyle or mine. And at that point, there was only one choice: I didn’t want to live in a hippy commune and I didn’t want to cut ties with my family. And I certainly didn’t want to join a cult.”

“But…why…why did you have to cut ties with us instead? You could have still been our….” I stopped short of saying ‘father’. 

“It was too late by then, Isaac. Nobody knew about Olivia and about you. There would have been…a scandal. I could never have entered politics if I’d come clean.” 

“A scandal. So that’s what had mattered to you, more than your own children.” I said.

The President looked at me and for a second I thought I could see irritation. Irritation at our demands, at our lack of sympathy. 

“Well, there was also the fact that your mother wanted me to join a cult!” 

“But you could have stopped her! Instead, you let her get recruited by the Flock and look at what happened to us, we ended up in the Compound!” Zac said.

“I tried. Trust me, I did.” the President said, unfazed by my brother’s outburst. “But in the end, she was adamant that the Flock was the only salvation for the world and she walked right into it, and there was absolutely nothing I could have done to stop her.”

“How convenient.” Zac said.

The President gazed silently at our younger brother. Zac’s words seemed to affect him more than anything Taylor or I had said until then.

“I’m sorry.” the President finally said.

“I was, what, not even a year old when we moved into the Compound. Wasn’t I, Ike?” my younger brother said. “If things were so shit between the two of you towards the end, why did you-” my brother threw his hands up in a hopeless gesture. 

“It wasn’t like that, Zac. We had already broken up. It was one of those things….you were a m-” the President caught himself. “You weren’t planned.”

“Wait a minute. Were you about to say that Zac was a ‘mistake’?” I said.

“No, no, Isaac, that’s not what I was saying. I’m just saying that things happened and…by the time Zac was born, my relationship with your mother had been irreparably broken.” 

“So you let mom walk away with us, basically. Right into the arms of the Flock.” Taylor said.

“Your mother decided to move into a commune - that’s how the Flock operates - I know that now. They draw you in gradually, first in a nice and friendly environment, like a commune. The Compound came later.” the President said.

“So…mom went into a commune and you didn’t have to worry about us anymore. She was definitely out of sight, for good.” I said. 

“I can’t deny that it seemed like a good idea at the time. Good for everybody. I didn’t know exactly how the Flock operated back then - at that point I still thought it was all harmless hippy talk. I thought I could keep an eye on you all from a distance, at least, support you financially. Well, that was until she went into the Compound and then that’s when I realised I’d lost you for good.” 

A shadow of regret flitted across our father’s face, and then it was gone. He stood up and put his hands in his pockets, and walked over to the narrow strip of window that ran along the room.

“It was a mistake.” he said, his back turned to us. “I’d completely underestimated those people. Their security was practically airtight. I couldn’t use my family’s political contacts because that would have raised questions. I’m not lying to you when I’m telling you that there was absolutely nothing I could do.” 

There was no hint of apology in the President’s voice - only cold, hard facts. If anything, he seemed disappointed at himself for having made a mistake. 

“But then you started to campaign against the Flock, we read it on the internet!”

“Yes, I did, once I was elected. There had been stories on the local news about it and I’d received a few letters from my constituents asking for my help. It was a good opportunity to become involved. Eventually, we managed to outlaw the recruiting for religious cults in the state. It was…something, at least.”

“But not enough.” Zac said.

Our father turned to face us again.

“No. Not enough. Nowhere near enough.” 

He took a seat opposite Zac. He leaned forward and reached out to touch my younger brother’s knee.

“I’m so sorry, Zac.” he said.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

I hadn’t actually expected him to apologise, so when he said he was sorry, I was stumped. He’d apologised to me - I’m so sorry, Zac’. It was me he was talking to: not Isaac, not Taylor - it was me. He’d been watching me, I could tell. I’d felt his eyes bore into me from the moment he’d walked into the room. It made me nervous and I’d reacted by snapping at everything he said.

“So what happens now?” I asked eventually, if only to take the focus away from me. 

“Yes. What happens now. Good question.” our father said. I sensed that the time for apologies had passed. 

“I’m guessing that we’re not suddenly going to start playing happy families, right?” I asked. I had wanted to sound sarcastic but as my words rolled out of my mouth, I realised that there was tinge of wishful thinking in my voice. I inwardly kicked myself for it - I didn’t want to seem needy.

The President sighed. “You’re right, Zac. That’s the one thing I can’t do for you.” 

I should have known - that was the only answer we were ever going to get out of the guy, and yet, despite myself, I had allowed myself to hope, and now it was all gone, replaced by a crushing disappointment that rose from deep in my gut and strangled me from the inside, twisting knots in my throat until I had blink away unexpected tears. 

“So what can you do for us?” I asked, trying to steady my voice.

“I can…do what I should have done a long time ago, and make sure you’re taken care of. My people will be in touch with details of a bank account on your joint names, and you’ll receive a monthly allowance which-”

“A bank account?” Isaac cut in.

“Yes, Isaac, and-”

“Wait, you think that that’s going to make everything okay?” Isaac said, raising his voice.

“Ike-” Taylor said.

“You get your spies to listen in our conversations, you fly us to some secret location, you give us all these reasons why you had to ditch us and let us rot in the Compound and then…you think you can fix it by putting some money into a bank account? So we can shut up and disappear again? Well, here’s the thing, Mr President, I don’t want your fucking money! So why don’t you just tell your people to just send it back where it came from and maybe you can go and buy a nice pearl necklace for your wife and a new pair of shoes for our sister who doesn’t even know that we exist, and leave us alone, which, after all, is the only thing you’ve done so well over the years!”

My brother’s reaction left me speechless: Isaac didn’t often lose his temper, but I could imagine that, after all the sacrifices he and Taylor had made to keep us going over the years, the President’s solution of throwing money at the problem wasn’t really going to cut it.

“Look, he didn’t mean it-” Taylor began to say. 

“It’s okay, Taylor. Isaac, I’m sorry you feel that way but you need put aside your anger toward me and be practical.” the President said. “I’m fully aware of your current living arrangements. You have no income and you’re relying on the generosity of that Australian doctor. How long do you think that can go on for? What if the doctor loses his job? Or he decides to go back to Australia? What are you going to do then?” 

“We’ll find a way.” Isaac said.

“Ike.” I said, placing my hand on the inside of his arm.

“We don’t need his charity, Zac!”

“Well, we do actually. I do. He could pay for the specialist’s appointment. I know Jesse said he’d pay for it but it’s a lot of money.” 

I turned to face the President. Although all I could make out in front of me was a shape, I had a very clear picture of him in my mind. They’d said he looked like me, so I’d sketched him and painted him in my head, practising constantly, conjuring up an older, clean-cut version of me. I’d worked on it in the weeks since our discovery as if it was the last thing I’d ever paint, my first and only masterpiece, and now that the man was sitting right in front of me, and he was real, I knew that I’d done a good job. He was there: I could see him.

“Maybe he…what did we say we should call you again?” I asked the President.

“Charlie. Just call me Charlie.” he said, and I knew he was smiling. “What happened to your eyesight, Zachary? My…intel made reference to an eye specialist. But the details were sketchy and I’m afraid I really don’t know the full situation.” 

“What, you really don’t know?” I asked.

“No. All I was told by my people was that the Australian doctor had been in contact with the top eye surgeon in  the country to take ‘the blind one’.  That was…quite a shock - because I was sure as hell that the last time I saw you, you were all perfectly healthy little boys. You were… perfect.” the President said,  his voice a fraction less steady now. 

In a strange reversal of our situation, I felt a sudden need to comfort this stranger who was supposed to look so much like me. Before Isaac could stop me, I told the President that it was okay, that he wasn’t to know. I told him how it’d happened, how I’d got sick at the Compound, how I’d woken up to a blacked-out world. When I struggled to recall the rest, my brothers helped me out, filling the gaps, joining the dots up until the time I was sent to the Detox Center. Together, we told him of our escape, of our time at the camp, of how we’d ended up living with Jesse. The President would stop us every now and then to ask a question, his voice laden with disbelief, just like Jesse had been when we’d first told him our story. He wanted to know everything, about our childhood and about our mom; what had exactly happened at the Club House, what did Taylor actually do when he worked there.

“I promise you” the President said after we finished telling our story. “I will get that place shut down, if it’s the only thing I do in my presidency. And I will have that DuVall behind bars, Taylor. I can’t make what he did to you go away, but I can make him and his sick cult pals disappear. You have my word on this.” he said, his voice betraying a barely repressed, dull rage.

“Can you do that? Can you get the whole Compound shut down?” I asked.

“I’m the President of CANAAN, Zachary. I have the authority to pulverise a foreign country on the other side of the world at the click of a button so… I think I can take on a lunatics’ outpost in the middle of the desert.”

“So are you going to…bomb it?” I asked.

“Ha! I wish things were so simple!” the President said.

“But… you said that you can click a button and pulverise foreign countries…?” I said.

“It doesn’t work that way, Zachary.” he said after a pause. There was a tenderness in his voice that he hadn’t used before. “You don’t know much about history, obviously, and it’s not your fault. But bombs are usually the last resort. I will get that place shut down though, and that’s a promise.”

Just in that moment, there was a knock at the door and someone walked in. 

“Mr President, your plane is ready to depart, Sir.” it was one of the agents’ voices. 

“Very well - we won’t be a minute.” The President waited until the door had clicked shut again. “I’m sorry but our time’s up.”

“Already?” I looked up at my father, scanning the fuzzy outline of his face for details that I might have missed earlier. 

“I’m sorry.” he said.

“Are we going to see you again?” I asked, swallowing a painful knot in my throat. I hadn’t expected to feel that way.

“We’ll meet again, Zachary-”

“Zac. People call me Zac.” I stressed. Suddenly, small things like that seemed so important. 

“Zac.” he repeated after me. “Of course.”  

My mind reeled with all the questions I’d wanted to ask him - he’d told us very little about him. He’d made us talk, so that we’d used up all the time to just …make him feel sorry about us. But now he was leaving and we still knew so little, and I couldn’t help feeling that it had been such a wasted opportunity. 

“What happens now? So how do we keep in touch with you?” I asked, desperate to gain time. 

“I’ll get my people to organise a secure channel of communication and of course some financial support, if Isaac is happy, of course.” our father said as he stood up.

“I… I guess so. Whatever is best for Zac.” my brother said, standing up too and pulling me up with him.

“But…what if that guy lies to you again? What if he tells you that we’re dead or that we’ve left?” I asked.

The President chuckled.

“Zacha- Zac, don’t worry. I won’t lose sight of you again. I promise.” 

The door clicked open again.

“One last thing…” the President said. “I’m sure you will appreciate that all of this…is happening under the strictest confidence…”

“Of course.” Isaac said, a tinge of irritation in his voice. “You can trust us.”

“I know, I don’t have any doubts about that. It’s more…can I trust your friend?” 

“You mean Jesse? Of course you can trust him!” Taylor said.

“Good, well, he certainly hasn’t done anything careless so far. Just…make sure he keeps it that way.”

“Or else what?” Isaac said. “Is this some kind of threat?”

“Ike, he’s just saying.” Taylor said.

“Please, Isaac. That’s not what I was saying at all. Now, can I shake hands with my sons with no ill feelings?”

“Ike.” I said, tightening my grip around my older brother’s arm.

“Sure, of course. I’m…I’m sorry Mr President-”

“Charlie.” our father said.

“Ch-Charlie. Um, it’s hard to get used to that.” my brother said.

“It’s the same for me. I never used to call you and…Taylor by your middle names. Your mother did that, for some reason.” he said.

“Maybe one day we’ll get to ask her why.” Taylor said.

“Yes, maybe.” The President said. “Well, then.” he added, after a pause. “I must be off. I’ve…” I heard my father’s voice falter, just for a split second before he inhaled sharply and cleared his throat. “I’m glad we met. My people will be in touch soon.” 

 He said goodbye to my brothers first and shook their hands, Taylor first, then Isaac. When it was my turn, I held out both hands and took the President’s hand between mine, feeling the shape of his fingers and the smoothness of his skin, taking in the shape of his wristwatch, the cold sharp edges of his cufflinks. Slowly I ran my hands up to his shoulders, and then I threw my arms around his neck, and clung to him tightly, until I felt my father’s hand on my back, and his fingers rubbing the nape of my neck. 

I didn’t care anymore - I just wanted to let go of the pain that constricted my throat, and gave in to tears, as quietly as I could, afraid that something inside me would burst if I took even the tiniest breath. All I could do was to hold on to him, until eventually he put his fingers under my chin and lifted up my face, and wiped my wet cheek with the back of his hand. I looked at the dark outline of my father’s face and willed myself to etch his image in my mind for one last time. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” my father said as Isaac’s hands pried me away from him.

“Goodbye, Zac.” he said.

 I watched the outline of my father move away from me and my brothers. I heard him thank the Marshals, and I listened out for the sound of his steps hurrying down the corridor until I could no longer hear them, and then he was really gone. 

Chapter Text

 

Our father kept his promise.

The day after our meeting, an agent in a black suit delivered a cellphone which, we were told, encrypted all phone calls, text messages and data sent to the President’s own private cell number. We were allowed to call him, but, the agent was keen to stress, the President would answer at his own discretion. I wondered how our names appeared on our father’s contacts -  Jordan Anderson? Or what about his own choice of aliases - Smith. Jordan Smith? Or would he have made up different names entirely? 

I pictured the scene: Charlton McAllister, President of CANAAN, as he received a call from us, a made-up name flashing on the screen in the middle of a family dinner. “Who is it, darling?” his wife would say. “Nobody, dear. Nobody important.” 

There was no reason to phone him, anyway - apart to let him know about Zac’s doctor appointment, which our father had promised to pay for. A few days after the cellphone was delivered, his people had been in touch to give us details of a bank account that had been set up in our three joint names. By the following day, we’d received three debit cards and three credit cards. We’d never had either, and didn’t have the faintest idea of what to do with them. The cards didn’t look very different, apart from colour and logos. Both had a golden chip on one side - Jesse said that it contained all the information on the card and its user.

“Why do we need a credit card?” I’d asked Jesse. “Is the other card not enough? They’ve put money in the account, right?”

“There’s a massive difference. With your debit card, you’re using your own money, which is safely stashed in your bank account. But with the credit card, you’re using the bank’s money - and the card is the proof that the bank thinks that you’re worthy of lending to. You’re going to be build a credit rating. Welcome to the modern world: you have arrived.” Jesse declared.

“When you say things in that way, I never know if you’re serious of if you’re joking.” I said. 

“I’m dead serious. If it sounds crazy, that’s because the system is crazy. I wish I were joking.”

“So…let me get this straight.” Isaac cocked his head to one side, the way he did when he was trying to figure something out. “It’s actually better to spend money that you haven’t got, because the fact that someone is willing to lend it to you makes you look good to the person you’re buying from?” 

“Congratulations! You’ve just passed The Finance module of The Outside World 101.”

“That’s twisted.” I said.

“So how do we know when we should spend our own money and when to use the credit card?” Isaac frowned.

“You’ll learn. It’ll become pretty obvious. I’d say start using the credit card for small, regular sums. You’ll need a credit history to do a lot of things, like taking a lease on an apartment. Even when you apply to certain jobs sometime they’ll run a credit check. By giving you a credit card you father has given you a step up into independence.”

“Jesse, talking about apartments…”

“What about them?”

I looked at my brothers. Zac, who had until then been quietly practising finger positioning on his guitar fret board, sat still, the palm of his hand covering the guitar strings as if to stop any possible sound. Isaac looked at me expectantly. We had discussed this at bedtime in our room, and now seemed a good time to bring it up.

“It’s just that - we can probably afford to get our own place now. The guy on the phone said that …the President had personally told him to assist us with finding a place to live if we needed it.” 

“Okay.”

“So, I don’t know how much it would cost but if he said he’d pay for it - I mean we’d just get the smallest place-”

“Sure, if that’s what you want, I understand.”

“Tay.” Zac said.

Jesse glanced at Zac and then gave me a questioning look.

“What?”

“It’s just that…” I turned to Isaac, who nodded at me to go on. 

“It’s just that we don’t know what you want us to do. Do you want us to stay, or should we get our own place?” I said.

“You’re asking me? I can’t tell you where you should live. If your father is going to pay for your own place, get your own place. Most people would jump at the chance.” Jesse snapped. His voice carried a steely tone he’d never used with us before.

“All right, so, I guess we should take up his offer…?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Sure, go ahead. It’s not everyday that the President of CANAAN offers to pay your rent, after all.”

“I know. We’re lucky. I’ll call the guy tomorrow then.” I said. I glanced at my older brother, but he was suddenly busy teasing a long curl that had come undone from his combed-over hair. 

“Well that’s settled then. I’m going to go and grab a shower.” Jesse said, getting up.

“Wait! Jesse don’t go.” Zac burst out. “Tay, that’s not what we’d discussed”

“Okay, what’s going on here?”

“Zac, if Jesse thinks it’s better this way-”

“That’s not what he said, Tay!” 

“No? Because that sounded pretty clear to me, Zac.” 

“But that’s not what we want! Tell him!”

“Tell me what? What is that you want then?” Jesse asked, is patience starting to wear thin.

I opened my mouth to speak when Zac none too gently laid his guitar on to the floor, resulting in a loud twang that vibrated in the air for several seconds.

“We talked about it among ourselves. We’d like to stay here and carry on living with you, and now we could help out with bills and food. But if you don’t want us to stay, and you want your own place back to yourself, we understand and we’ll start looking for our own place immediately.” Zac said in one long breath. Then he turned around and jerked his head in a kind of ‘there! That wasn’t that hard!’ type of gesture. 

“Right. So why didn’t you just say so?”

“I just did!” Zac said.

“I was talking to Taylor. I’m glad that at least one of you is able to speak their mind.” 

“I’m - it’s just that I didn’t think that that’s what you wanted.” I stuttered.

“I don’t know how much clearer I can make it for you guys. If I’d wanted you out, you’d know it by now.” Jesse said.

“Sorry.” I said, sheepishly.

“Taylor?”

“What?”

“Next time you want to ask me something - just ask me. Don’t go assuming that you already know the answer. Your brother might not be around to speak up on your behalf.”

I glanced at Zac, who suddenly looked extremely satisfied with himself. For once, his lack of filters had been useful. 

—

The night before Zac’s appointment with the eye surgeon, the President called. The man we dealt with on the phone had asked us for the exact date and how much the estimated bill would come to (‘for information only’, he had stressed) but none of us had expected the President to remember the date, let alone dial our number and call us. When the name “Charlie” flashed up on the cellphone display, I froze.

“Ike, it’s him.” I said, shoving the phone under my older brother’s nose.

“Him as in…the P-”

“Yes! Him! What do we do?” I said, while the phone kept ringing.

“I think answering it might be a start.” Jesse said from somewhere behind me.

“Answer it, Tay.” Zac said.

Bracing myself, I touched the green icon on the screen.

“Hel-lo?” 

“Hello, Taylor.”

 

The President had recognised my voice, and this time he’d remembered to call me Taylor. After asking me how we all were and checking that we were happy with the financial arrangements he’ d made, he asked to speak to Zac. They talked for several minutes, the President quizzing my younger brother about the following day. Every now and then, Zac would ask Jesse for clarification on what the tests involved and relayed it to the President.

I watched my little brother in awe as he sat at the kitchen table, discussing his health with the President of CANAAN, looking totally unfazed. When he finally hung up, he sat quietly with the phone tightly in his hand, until we couldn’t wait any longer. 

“So what did he say?” I asked.

“You heard. He asked me all those questions about tomorrow.”

Of course I knew that, but now I wished I’d heard the entire conversation, and cursed myself for not having had the foresight to put the call on loudspeaker.

“So, did he say anything else?” Isaac asked.

“Umm. Kind of.” 

“What?”

“He said ‘good luck, son’.”

 

———

 

The following day we had an early start. I’d only managed to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, and when Jesse had knocked at our door to wake us up, it had felt as if I’d only slept a few minutes. Judging by Isaac’s puffy eyes, he’d had a sleepless night too. Zac, on the other hand, had drifted off the moment his head had hit the pillow; as usual, it had been a struggle to wake him up, and only a few stern words from Jesse had finally kicked him into action. Zac had barely finished his breakfast than we were rushing him into the bathroom and under a running shower. 

 

A few minutes later, our brother stepped out of the shower in a cloud of steam, dripping water everywhere on the floor. His hair was still tied up in a folded up ponytail - no wonder he’d been so quick. I decided to let it go - we’d just have to make sure his hair was brushed and hope that it didn’t look too greasy. 

“You don’t need to stand there. I know how to brush my teeth.” my brother said, picking up his toothbrush. Isaac had put some of Jesse’s surgical tape around the handle so that Zac could tell which one was his.

“You have to floss after you finish.” 

“Remember to clean your ears too.” Isaac added from outside the bathroom.

“I’ll help you shave. We don’t have all that much time.”

“Will you two stop it? I’m not going to the dentist! Or to an ear doctor - he’s going to look at my eyes, remember? Not inside my ears!” 

“He’s going to look at you really up close, so we’re not taking any chances.” Isaac said as he appeared behind me.

“Exactly - if he can see your eyes, he can see your teeth. And your ears.”

“So what?”

“When did you last clean your ears?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“I’m not dirty!” 

“We’re not saying that you are, Zac, we just don’t want the specialist to think that we’re some kind of …you know, Exodus folk. That’s all. We just want to make a good impression.” Isaac put his hands on Zac’s shoulders, giving him a little squeeze. He was right. I still felt self-conscious around ‘normal’ people, let alone doctors, who seemed to be a completely different breed from us. Jesse’s friends never even acknowledged me, even after seeing me arrive and leave with him, week after week. Initially I’d tried to say hi - they were friends of Jesse’s, after all, and roughly his age. But every time I did, they’d looked the other way, and soon I realised that it wasn’t a coincidence, and gave up trying. As a result, the idea of a meeting with one of the best eye surgeons in CANAAN made me nervous, even if, rationally, I knew that our money was as good as any other patient’s. But I wanted my brother to have the best possible treatment and I wanted him to look clean and tidy, and above all, respectable. I still found it hard to shed Blue City from our skin; we’d only lived there for a few weeks but I felt as if it had tainted us, as if the camp’s grime still clung to our skin - as if the cold nights and the hardship were still carved into our faces, like the Exodus patients I saw day after day at the hospital. I knew Isaac felt the same, but Zac didn’t seem bothered, and I couldn’t help thinking that maybe he’d been lucky not to actually see with his own eyes the squalid conditions under which we’d had to live.

—

We arrived for the appointment with enough time to spare so that we could take Zac to the restrooms and give him a final look over, to which he subjected himself with resigned patience. It was obvious that both Isaac and I were more anxious than he was and somehow, tying his hair back for the hundredth time seemed to allay our fears about what was coming.

The initial meeting with the surgeon consisted in a long interview with all three of us. The surgeon had wanted to know all the details about Zac’s illness - the lead up to it, what the symptoms had been, what kind of treatment Zac had received at the Infirmary. We told him the story we had told Jesse and the President, and the doctor looked increasingly horrified as he took in the details of Zac’s ordeal. After that consultation, which the surgeon recorded on his phone, a nurse came to prepare Zac for the scan. 

“I’ll see you in there.” the surgeon dismissed us with a nod as we left the room.

“What did I tell you? He didn’t look anywhere near my ears.” Zac muttered under his breath as we trailed behind the nurse.

“He might still do, later.” 

“Or maybe the nurse will.” Isaac added.

“Whatever. I just want this to be over and done with.” 

“I know, buddy, I know.” I said. I felt the same. The appointment had been looming over us for weeks. Jesse had told us not to get our hopes up too much, even if of course, both Isaac and I desperately wanted our brother to be cured. But what would happen if he regained his sight? He wouldn’t be needing us anymore - he’d be able to do anything, go anywhere, now more than ever, thanks to the new possibilities that our connection with the President had given us. I kept asking myself - what if I lose my brother?

 

Only one of us was allowed to stay with Zac while they ran the tests. 

“You go.” Isaac said. “I’ll wait here with Jesse.”

I followed the nurse into the room and helped my brother out of his clothes and into a thin hospital gown which barely reached his knees. Luckily Jesse had warned us about that, and I’d had made sure that my little brother wore his best underwear and a long t-shirt. He’d alway been very self-conscious about his body and although I couldn’t understand why, I wasn’t going to let him feel exposed in front of complete strangers now.

“You’re going to have to leave the room during the scan, I’m afraid.” the nurse said with a sympathetic smile as I checked and rechecked that the laces at the back of my brother’s gown were securely knotted.

“I’ll be okay, Tay. It’s only a scan. It’s not going to hurt.”

“I know. I know.” 

The truth was, I dreaded the idea of leaving my brother alone in giant metal tube. I worried about him being restrained in a confined space - there were too many bad memories lurking in his recent past. 

“He’ll have a buzzer in his hand if he gets claustrophobic.” the nurse said, sensing my concerns.

“And you’ll be able to stop the machine quickly, right?”

“Yes.” the nurse smiled. 

“I’ll be okay, I’ll just hit the button if it’s bad.” 

“Right.”

“Tay?”

“Yes?”

“Go.” 

My brother’s lips twisted into a smile. I put my arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I’ll be right outside”, I said in his ear, before finally letting go of him. Before I left the room I turned round just as the nurse was helping my brother lie down on the scanner. The smile he’d sported a few seconds earlier had gone.

 

—

The next test was another scan, and this time they had my brother sit upright in some kind of strange capsule. The last tests, at last, were run by the surgeon himself, and I was allowed to be in the room where Zac sat patiently, his face partially pushed into metal contraption, while the doctor used various instruments and machines to examine his eyes. Every few seconds, he’d instruct my brother to look up, or down, to the left or right, to blink, to blink again; he put a dye in Zac’s eyes and turned his eyelids inside out with the help of a Q-tip. Every now and then, the surgeon would say something incomprehensible to the nurse, who tapped everything into a tablet computer. He then had Zac move to another machine, and then another one. I was starting to wonder if all those tests were really necessary, or whether the surgeon was just repeating them using slightly different equipment to stretch out the visit and charge us more, when he finally announced that he’d finished. 

 

Half an hour later, the nurse called us back into the surgeon’s consulting room. He waited until we’d all sat down before turning his computer screen to face us. I could see my brother’s name, and various figures and graphs, and a photo of what looked like an egg yolk. On closer inspection, it was the back of my brother’s eye. 

“Right, well, I’ve now reviewed all the data from the tests that we have performed today.” the surgeon began.

I straightened up in my chair. This is it, I thought. 

“…and I’m afraid it’s not good news.” 

 

The surgeon confirmed that Jesse had been right all the way along - Zac’s optic nerve was irreparably damaged. There was nothing medicine could do for him. When I asked about the operation that DuVall had promised, the surgeon shook his head and added “If such surgery was available, the chances are that it would have been developed at this very hospital.” 

Zac sat quietly as the surgeon delivered the news, his eyes lowered to the floor. He nodded, obediently, as the surgeon talked to him about adjustments and coping strategies and visual impairment associations that could offer all sorts of help. At the mention of a guide dog, my brother blinked slowly and clenched his jaw.

 Zac had always been scared of dogs. 

 

~~~~~~*****~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~~

 

The moment the surgeon said that there was nothing he could do, I was done with the whole hope thing. I’d allowed myself to hope in some kind of miracle operation, choosing to ignore Jesse’s reservations. I’d tried - of course I’d tried not to get my hopes up; but like I fool, I’d ended up believing that maybe I’d see again. I’d imagined myself doing all the things that I used to do before, small, trivial day-to-day activities which I’d never thought I’d miss. 

When you look up at the sky in the morning and try to guess what the weather will be like, you don’t think of it as a big deal. You don’t think that one day, much sooner than you could ever anticipate, while your childhood is still fresh in your memories, something so basic as your sight will be taken away from you. You don’t think to stop and look, really look, at the ladybug that lands on your hand on a warm summer day. You don’t study its deep shade of red, you don’t bring the back of your hand close to your face so that you can see the exact shape of the black spots on its back. 

 It didn’t matter anymore. Now I just wanted to get out of that hospital and pretend that that day had never happened - something which was no doubt going to be difficult with my brothers and Jesse tiptoeing around me. If this was normality now, I wanted them to treat me normally, not to feel sorry for me, or I’d never get used to the idea again. 

But once we got in the car, Jesse turned the music on and just drove, and apart from Isaac trying to strike a conversation about dinner plans, we didn’t speak. 

Once home, I headed straight for my guitar; I picked it up and sat on the floor. I ran my fingertips along the fretboard,  enjoying the feeling of the strings digging into my flesh. 

“Zac” Taylor asked.

“Yeah?”

He crouched down in front of me and I could tell that he was looking for the right words to speak to me. The shadow of his hand flitted in front of my face as he reached to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. 

“We’re going to look at those websites and get all the help that you need. You’re going to be able to go out by yourself if you want, and read and-”

“I don’t care about going out by myself, Tay.” 

“Maybe not now, but there may be times in the future when you do.”

“Only if you and Ike get sick of having to come with me.” I said. It had never crossed my mind that my brothers might regard me as a burden, but maybe now that we had a definite verdict they might begin to feel different. There was no way out now. 

“Don’t say things like that Zac,” Isaac crouched down next to me too. “Not even as a joke. We’ve been your eyes for a while now, and that’s the way it’s going to carry on.” 

It was my older brother’s matter-of-fact delivery that pierced through me: we’ve been your eyes. It was true - my brothers had seen for me, they had walked with me. I knew that they would have given anything for me to see again and I knew that, given half a chance, they’d swap places with me. 

“You don’t have a choice now, anyway. You’re going to have to babysit me for the rest of your life now.” I said, forcing a smile to try and halt the tears that were beginning to build in my eyes. 

“Oh, we do quite well out of babysitting you, you know? I wouldn’t get half of those jobs we get if it wasn’t for you. All those ladies just want an excuse to look at my poor, blind little brother.” Isaac said, ruffling my hair. 

“And feed him.” Taylor added.

“And feed him.” Isaac said.

“We should start hiring him out” Jesse said. “He’s blind, he’s cute, and plays guitar. He’d make a killing at baby showers…bachelorette parties…although they’d probably eat him alive…” 

“I’m not sure I like the sound of either.” I said. The tears had gone back in now, and I was grateful that my brothers and Jesse had chosen not to indulge my mood. 

“Nah, it was a bad idea. And it’s not as if you need the money anymore.” Jesse said.

“Yeah, about the money, Jesse. I’m glad that you didn’t have to pay for those tests today. I’d feel even worse now, knowing that you wasted your money for nothing.” I said.

“Today hasn’t been a waste, Zac. You have an answer now and you can move on. And you will. What Taylor said about getting help, learning to manage by yourself - he’s right, you know.”

“But I don’t want a dog, I hate dogs!” I said, aware of how pathetic I sounded, but I couldn’t help it. Just the mention of a guide dog in the surgeon’s office had made me want to run out of the room.

“Okay, okay, no dogs. But there are a lot of other ways in which you can be more independent. We can look into all of that. If you want to.”

“I know. But right now I don’t want to think about it. Can we just …not think about it? For tonight, at least.” 

 “Whatever you like. It’s been a long day.” Jesse said with a sigh. “We could order pizza. Would that help?” 

Pizza would definitely help. In fact, I’d just realised that I was starving.

“There’s just something we need to do though. Before we’re too stuffed with pizza to think clearly.” Taylor said.

“What?” I dreaded to think what other task was lined up for us that needed our full concentration.

“We said that we’d let him know.”

 

—

I took the phone from Taylor’s hand - despite my protests, I knew it had to be me. My heart raced as I listened to the the dial tone, knowing that our father would be close by, and I wondered if I’d be interrupting an important meeting. The phone rang and rang, and I was preparing myself to leave a message when he finally picked up.

“Taylor?” 

“It’s Zac, actually.”

“Zac. Hello.”

I wasn’t sure I imagined it but I thought I’d heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone, as if our father was bracing himself for bad news.

I got straight to the point and told him of what the surgeon had said. When I finished talking, all I got was silence.

“Are you still there?” 

“Yes, I’m - I’m sorry, Zac. This is not what I was hoping to hear.”

“I know. I’m sorry it’s bad news.”

 “You’re sorry? Zac, you don’t have to apologise to me. I’m the one who is sorry - sorry that I can’t help you.”

“It’s not…your fault.” I said.

The President laughed bitterly. 

“I’m not quite sure your brothers would agree with that. It really is all my fault, ultimately.”

I didn’t know how to respond. In a way he was responsible - but it was a long,  loose connection of ifs - if he hadn’t left our mother, if she hadn’t taken us to the Compound, if, if, if. It was unfair to blame him.

“You didn’t cause this. Jesse said that if they’d given me antibiotics sooner I might have been fine. And you paid for all the tests, which really helped.” I said eventually.

“Thank you, Zac.” he said after a pause. His voice was warm - I could hear the smile on the other end of the phone.

“What for?”

“For trying to take this burden off me. You’ve really turned out to be a fine young man. Your mother raised you well, after all.”

“My brothers raised me well, after all.” I corrected him. “Mom had nothing to do with it. She only made things worse by marrying that scumbag.” 

“Don’t hate her, Zac. I’m sure she still loves you.”

I realised now that I harboured more resentment towards our mother than towards the man who had abandoned us all. Maybe it was unfair, but at least he hadn’t known that things were so bad in the Compound, and he hadn’t known what Taylor had to go through every day, and he hadn’t known that on one night, years ago, some simple drugs would have probably saved my eyesight. He had no idea of what was going on in our lives. She knew.

“It’s a bit too late now.” 

“You never know.” the President said quietly. “Now, you’re going to have to let me help you with whatever you need - if it’s a case of getting you a guide dog or-”

“Not the fucking dog again!” I snapped. “I’m sorry,” instantly regretting my outburst. “It’s just that everybody keeps telling me that I should get a dog and I hate dogs. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to …curse.” I said. 

The President laughed softly on the other end of the phone.

“Don’t worry. I do that a lot too. When I’m not on camera, of course. But understood - no dogs. I’m sure there’ll be other …things that you need, or adjustments to make in the house…I was just looking it up on the internet and there are these special canes with a sensor which detects any obstacles and makes the handle vibrate-”

“Thank you, but seriously, Sir-, erm, Charlie, I’m okay for the moment. I don’t need to walk with a cane, I have Isaac.”

“You have Isaac.” 

The President laughed again.

“Yeah. I mean, I have my brothers. It’s going to be okay. I’m gonna be fine. But thank you.”

The President drew a long sigh. I hoped I hadn’t offended him,  but I really couldn’t bear another conversation on coping strategies, walking canes and dogs.

“You know Zachary,” 

I decided against correcting him. 

“…you were all delivered by the same doctor - a doctor who….operated under strict confidence. Anyway, your mother wanted a girl, but she kept getting boys.”

“That explains a lot.” I said, thinking back of the way our mother had always refused to have our hair cut when we were children. Taylor, especially, got teased a lot for looking like a girl, more than Isaac and I ever did.

“With all three of you, we’d asked not to be told in advance if you were boys or girls. Your mother didn’t want to know - she said she didn’t want to spoil the surprise.” the President continued.

“Or maybe she didn’t want to be disappointed.”

“Maybe. But anyway, when you finally arrived and the doctor said you were a boy, your mother became upset. It was probably the…hormones…she was exhausted from hours of labour and there had been a few complications. So as they put you in her arms, she just burst into tears, saying that she couldn’t cope with three boys, that she didn’t know what to do…and I didn’t really know what to say to calm her down.”

“Good start…” I said, wondering where the President was going with this story. The idea of my mother bursting into tears of disappointment at my birth wasn’t exactly filling me with joy. 

“But then…you know what the doctor said?” my father continued, ignoring my sarcastic quip. “He said, ‘Ma’am, now you’re crying, but believe me when I’m telling you that you’re a very lucky mother. Your boys will grow up to be best friends and always have each other’s backs; this little one will have two big brothers to look up to. Your boys will never be alone.”

“He was right.” I said after a pause. 

“He really was. I clung to those words for years, Zachary, hoping and praying that the three of you would be fine - because you had each other. You’d have no father but you had each other. And look at the three of you now.”

“Yeah. We were lucky like that.” I finally said.  

“Yes - at least in that respect, you were lucky.” The President let out little sigh and cleared his throat. “Anyway, that was that.”

I sensed that the ‘father and son’ moment was over. We said goodbye and he made me promise that I’d look into all possible resources for the visually impaired and let him know. I promised I would and hung up, the doctor’s words still echoing in my head.

Your boys will never be alone.

 

———

“You know, that kind of explains a lot about mom.” Taylor said.

As soon as I’d hung up the phone, I’d told my brothers what our father had said about mother and they’d taken the news with a mix of curiosity and disappointment.

“She hated it when I cut my hair.” Taylor continued.

“It also explains why you were always her favourite, Tay.” Isaac said.

“Why, because I looked like a girl?”

“You were the prettiest one, Tay.” I pointed out.

“Ike, didn’t you say once, that when Zac was still a baby, your mom moved his cot out of her room? And that she got you to feed him at night?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah. He cried a lot a night and …I don’t know, I guess she was too tired and couldn’t cope. She just didn’t seem very interested in the baby. In the day she did what she had to do, but I don’t remember her being very affectionate to him. Sorry, Zac.” my brother put his hand on my shoulder. 

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I’m not a psychiatrist but if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say that your mom was probably suffering from post-natal depression.” Jesse continued, as if he’d been following his own train of thought.

“What’s that?” I asked. 

“It’s a type of depression some women experience after having a baby. How you described your mom’s behaviour sounds a lot like it - feeling unable to cope, difficulty sleeping.  The people from the Flock would have smelled ‘troubled person’ a mile off. Cults prey on vulnerable people, and from what I’ve read about the CoR, their unique selling point is to offer a ‘cure’ for mental illness packaged as religion. If you’re sick and struggling, it might actually sound like a good idea.”

“But then why didn’t he do anything -” Isaac said. “He should have helped her. He should have taken her to a doctor.” 

“It was a complicated situation.” Taylor said.

“Understatement.” Jesse said.

“Poor mom.” I said, before taking a big gulp of my soda. If Jesse was right - if our mom was ill after having me - then maybe it was unfair to blame her for the way things had turned out. Maybe it wasn’t anybody’s fault. The only certainty I had was that the Flock had ruined everything: our family, my eyesight, our chance of a normal future.  

——

 

Sleep just wouldn’t come easily that night. Usually, all I had to do was close my eyes and I’d be gone in seconds - my brothers always joked that I could sleep anywhere, and through anything, including earthquakes. But now my thoughts kept going round in circles, returning to the same conclusion: that I’d wake up to the same fuzzy scene for the rest of my life. I thought I’d already worked through the adjustment phase, but clearly, somewhere in the deepest recesses of my mind, I’d been hoping for a miracle. “Miracle”, incidentally,was the word the surgeon had used to indicate the likelihood of some future scientific breakthrough that would restore my eyesight. I’d learned about miracles in one of my furtive reading sessions when I was on dusting duties at the Club House library, and I’d figured that it was some kind of magic performed by gods or saints. How typical, I thought, that the religion I was brought up in not only effectively caused my blindness but also offered no miracles. As far as I was aware, neither the Shepherd nor any of his high ranking successors had ever healed or resurrected anyone from the dead. 

If I ever believe in something again, it will have to be something that gives me something in return - if not a miracle, at least hope.

Something, anything, I thought, and it was only then I realised that my face was wet with tears. I sniffed more noisily that I would have wanted to and wiped my face with my hand, then wiped my hand on the pillow. I took a long, slow breath as quietly as I could, trying to keep my chest as still as possible. I didn’t want my brothers to see me upset. 

Too late.

“Zac…you’re crying.” Taylor said, softly.

“No, I’m not.” I said, fully aware of how stupid I sounded.

“It’s okay to be upset, you know. You’ve been strong through all those tests…you don’t have to keep it up anymore, Zac.” 

“But the sooner I get used to the fact that this is it, the better.”

“Maybe so but…you don’t have to put on a brave face for us.” Isaac said in a sleepy voice, as he reached around my chest with his arm, pulling me close to him.

“You’re the ones who have been putting on a brave face for me. I know you didn’t really think that they could fix me. I’m not stupid.”

“Well, Zac, that’s what we do.” Taylor stroked my face with his hand, his knuckles dry and scratchy from the hospital disinfectants. “That’s what we do.” he whispered. “There’s nothing you can do about it.” 

I was about to object, when I felt my brother’s mouth on mine, and as my lips parted a little more in surprise, he kissed me a little deeper. I knew was he was doing: he was trying to take my mind off things. Usually, I’d have been only too pleased to give in, but right now I stubbornly wanted to prove a point - that I was perfectly fine, that I didn’t need consoling. 

“Tay, I’m okay, really, I just need some sleep.” I said, pulling away.

“Sleep.”

“Yeah. I’m tired.” 

“Sure.” My brother lifted the duvet enough so that he could climb on top of me, and pressed himself against me slowly and deliberately, his body heavy and warm. I felt all my good intentions disappear at once as he pressed his lips on mine again, and soon I found myself responding to his kiss, losing myself in the familiar taste that had always meant good things for me since I could remember: comfort, reassurance, the promise of more. My brother’s hand crept under my t-shirt, caressing me, his effort to break my resolve now all too obvious. 

“You don’t need this.” he said, pushing my top up until I had no choice but to lift my arms so that he could pull it over my head. 

“Fine.” I said, any pretence of resisting my brother’s attention now abandoned. My brother laughed to himself as he sat up and wriggled out of his clothes and seconds later, fingers pried off my pajamas bottoms and my underwear. 

“I’m going to go and watch TV for a bit.” my older brother said, shifting behind me.

“Why, Ike? Stay.” I protested. 

Despite some initial awkwardness, lately we had managed to make things work when it came to being intimate. My brothers were happy to share me, and I was more than happy to receive their combined attention. They’d made it clear that it was always up to me to decide who I’d want to be with at any given time, and although it was always tempting to just give in to sleep afterwards, I always made sure that both of them got some enjoyment out of me before I was too spent to be of any use. 

Of course, things would have been even easier if my brothers had taken things further between themselves. But I was working on that.

“There’s really no need for you to leave, Ike.” Taylor said.

“Tay, you two haven’t had any time together, alone, since we were at the Compound. I…Zac and I did. I just want to give you some space. It’s no big deal.” 

“But…Ike, we don’t need space. There’s enough space for three of us.” I said.

“I think you do. Taylor can come and get me in a bit.”

He kissed me on the head and sat up, making the bed bounce as he picked up his clothes off the floor.

“Ike.” Taylor said. “Thank you.”

 

——

 

Come to think of it, Taylor and I hadn’t really, properly been alone with each other for a long time. The three of us had huddled together for warmth as we shared a single sleeping bag in our tent at Blue City, and once we’d moved to Jesse’s place, things had happened between me and Isaac. It was strange to think how quickly I’d got used to touching him the way I touched Taylor; it had felt natural to me, a natural progression of a brother’s love. So I felt no pressing need to carve some time out just for Taylor and me: I was happy with the way things were. 

“Are you ok?” Taylor asked.

“Yes. I guess. I mean - this is strange now, you know? Without him.” 

“Zac, if you don’t want this it’s okay, I understand.” 

“No…I didn’t say that - it’s just …it’s been a long time, Tay.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I can’t say that I’m against the idea of having you all to myself though.” he said, trailing his fingers down my chest, all the way down to my stomach. He paused, and I imagined the look in his eyes, possessive and loving, the way he’d always looked at me during those moments - a look I missed so much now. 

Stop thinking- I thought, and reached for the back of my brother’s neck, burying my hand in a fistful of hair as I pulled him close to me, so that our foreheads touched. 

A thought crept into my mind.

“Tay…”

“Hhmm?” 

Knowing I had the element of surprise, I pushed up with my hips and rolled him off me and onto his back. Before my brother had time to react,  I’d straddled him and pinned both of his arms above his head.

“Gotcha!” I said, triumphantly.

“Wow, Zac, so much energy…I thought you wanted to sleep.” 

“Not anymore. I want you now.” 

“I can tell…” my brother said, lifting his hips a little, so that our lower bodies touched. It was pretty obvious that we were both desperate for each other now. Still holding him down, I leaned over to kiss him. Being with Taylor had always felt so right, even when we were little more than children seeking comfort in each other. 

I slowly let go of my brother’s arms - my little display of dominance was only play fight. Taylor knew it, and was only too happy to let me assert myself in whatever way I liked. The end result was always the same, whether I made love to him or he made love to me - we were just after the same thing: to find that missing piece of ourselves in each other. 

And now, as my brother drew me closer and wrapped his legs tightly around me, for a split second I found myself believing that all I had to do was to be inside of him - and then I’d be complete again, unbroken, and then I’d see again. The illusion faded as quickly as it had formed, followed by the sickening realisation that my condition was final. I pulled away from the kiss and came up for breath, freeing myself from my brother’s embrace. 

“Give me a second.” Taylor said, interpreting my pause as his cue to reach into the bedside cabinet drawer. I heard a cap being snapped open, and I knew my brother was pouring some of the contents on his palm, another stage of our well-practiced routine which, by forcing a pause, inevitably made us all the more eager to continue. But now I sat up frozen, my knees still enclosed by brother’s legs. It was dark. It would always be dark. I’d never see my brother again.  

Before I could ask him to stop, my brother had reached between my legs, and I shuddered at the sudden cool sensation on my skin.

“Zac, what’s up?” 

My brother kept his hand on me, although it was painfully obvious to us both that the moment had gone.

I tried to breathe, but I felt as if I’d been caught in avalanche - dark, cold earth was filling my airways and choking me from the inside, and rocks crushed my chest and stopped my lungs from inflating. 

I can’t breathe.

“Zac, talk to me, please…” 

I noticed the loss of contact as my brother’s hand was no longer on me, and the ruffling of bedsheets sounded loud in my ears as he searched for something to wipe his hand on.

“Come here.” he said, pulling me down with him. 

I let myself be guided gently over my brother’s body, so that half of me was on top of him, one of my legs draped around his. I rested my face on his chest, the soft tufts of hairs tickling my skin. I wanted to cry, but my eyes felt hollow and dry. Eventually, I let my eyelids close, shutting out all the fuzzy shadows that still appeared in front of me. 

I don’t know how long we lay together like that - several minutes at least. I tuned into my brother’s breath, allowing myself to be lulled by the soothing movement of his chest rising and falling, rising and falling, until I felt the weight was being lifted, and I could breathe again.

“I’m sorry, Zac.” 

 My brother had been quiet until now - his fingers running through my hair as the only sign that he was still awake.

“I’m sorry that I can’t fix you.” he continued.

“It’s not your fault.”

“But if we’d got away sooner - it would never have happened.”

It was then that I realised something that had been right in front of me all the way along.

“Tay?”

“Yes?”

“If I hadn’t gone blind I wouldn’t have ended up in the Detox Center. And if I hand’t been locked up you wouldn’t have tried to break me out of there, right? And maybe we would have never tried to leave.”

“I don’t know. Things were pretty shitty for all of us at that point.”

“Yeah, but we weren’t desperate. Ike had a good job, and I liked mine, too. You would have become too old even for the officers, eventually. We were getting by, we weren’t starving.”

My brother sighed.

“Who knows…maybe you’re right, maybe we would have just put up with it. It’s just hard to imagine that what happened to you might have been for the best.”

“In a really fucked-up sort of way, it was though.” 

As I uttered those words, a wave of acceptance swept over me, bringing me cool, calm relief. I’d been there before, many times before. I wasn’t going to let despair take me down and drown me again - not this time. I had so much to live for now - my brothers, first and foremost, but a friend, music, and hope - none of which had ever been part of our old life at the Compound. I had a father, too, now - and although I knew I wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon, I felt strangely connected to him. And deep down, I knew that he felt the same.

“Zac?” Taylor’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Shall I go and get Ike? He’s probably still sitting up watching some really dull documentary right now.”

I weighed the options for a second or two.

“Wait.”

The time we had on our own had been a gift from Isaac: it would have felt like a waste not to use it.

I lifted my head from the warm comfort of my brother’s chest, and slowly ran the palm of my hand along his torso, following the soft trail of hairs that formed a path all the way down to his navel, until there was only one way to go. As I wrapped my fingers around him, an overwhelming need to do something for my brother pushed away all that was left of the morbid thoughts that had killed the moment a little while earlier.

“I’m not done with you yet.” I said as I leaned down to kiss him.

What followed was no different than the love we’d made countless times before - it’s not as if I’d learnt any new tricks or moves to impress him. Even from my limited experience, I could tell that I’d never been the most sophisticated lover and that I never would be - I was too impulsive, too impatient, sometimes too rough. But as I slowly moved inside my brother now, I vowed to myself that, from now on, I’d do everything I could to make him happy: and judging by the appreciative noises he made as I picked up the pace, this was a good start. It’d been a while since I’d last taken the lead, and now my brother’s body was so eagerly accepting me, as if it had been moulded specifically for the purpose: it was an unusual, exhilarating feeling to take him and make him mine. Soon, my brother was pleading for more between ragged breaths, as his fingers clawed at my back and dug into my skin; there was no doubt now that he was as close to the edge as I was.

As I felt my release grow close, I closed my eyes. Blood rushed to my head, and I tried to say ‘I love you’ but all I could say was ‘Taylor’. I kept my eyes shut long after I’d stopped shaking and it was only when I collapsed on top of my brother’s chest that I forced myself to open them again. 

Everything around me still looked the same, the same shapeless shadows, the same faint light coming from under the bedroom door, from the living room where my older brother was watching TV.

Everything will be okay, I thought to myself. 

Everything will be okay.

It was time to go and get Isaac.

Chapter Text

“Let him go!” I yelled.

They took no notice. I lunged at one of the men and tried to grab him by the shoulder, but my hand went through his body as if he were a ghost. I shouted for them again to stop, as loud as I could, until my throat burnt and my lungs felt ready to burst. Still nothing.  

Why can’t you hear me? I followed them down the stairs and out of the building as they took my brother away, my breath ragged, my voice hoarse. I begged them to stop, but they just marched on, holding Zac firmly by his arms. 

“Zac!” I called, but my brother didn’t even turn his head.

He can’t see me, and now he can’t hear me, and he’ll never know that I’m here, that I’m trying to do something- 

I woke up with a jolt, gasping for air. It took me a couple of seconds to see that everything around me was as it should be - my brothers were next to me in the bed, fast asleep. I relaxed back on the mattress as a wave of relief washed over me. I looked at Zac, who, as usual, had made an impenetrable cocoon of duvet around himself, and I resisted the urge to curl up against him and hold him close. He wouldn’t appreciate being woken up. It was okay - he was there and safe. I’d just had a bad dream. 

It wasn’t the first time that I’d been visited by that particular nightmare: I was always back at the Compound, watching helplessly as security took my brother away. That part always felt horribly real: Taylor shouting at the guards to let our brother go, our initial disbelief rapidly turning into panic. But now, in my nightmare, Zac couldn’t hear me - he didn’t know that I was trying to stop them. Anguish would seize me in the same way - would he think that it was us who had him sent away? That nightmare had been haunting me for months, on and off. Sometimes I’d sleep peacefully for weeks, until the dream returned, but sometimes it hit me several nights in a row. Rationally, I knew that it was just my mind trying to process what had happened, but now Zac was in no danger, and yet, somewhere deep inside, I still couldn’t move on.

I turned to one side and shut my eyes, trying to focus on my brothers’ breathing to send myself to sleep again. A while later, I was still awake. I tossed and turned, as the bed suddenly felt uncomfortable and I was too warm one moment and too cold the next. That’s no use, I thought. I swung my legs out bed and got up. I’d go and watch TV, I decided; there was always something sleep-inducing on at that time of night. Black and white accounts of old wars, wildlife documentaries;  I’d be asleep again in no time. 

As I opened the bedroom door, I noticed a faint glow coming from the living room. Jesse was up. I shuffled gingerly along the corridor, not wanting to startle him with any sudden noise. Jesse was lying on the couch, either fast asleep or completely absorbed in a programme on TV which was currently showing a giant turtle swimming in the ocean. As I walked into the room I saw him shift on the couch. He was awake. 

“Mind if I join you?”

“Hey Isaac.” Jesse, said, craning his neck backwards. “Can’t sleep?”

“No.” I sat down on the armchair. “You?”

“Nope. I got in a while ago but my mind’s all revved up from work.”

“Hard shift?” When it came to Jesse’s job, I was never sure if it was okay to ask too many questions.  

“Yeah. There was a clash between some Exodus people and a checkpoint patrol and it didn’t exactly end well.”

“Did any Exodus guys die?” 

“Nobody died, no. But several people were badly injured.”

“I guess they didn’t stand a chance against the soldiers.” I couldn’t help feeling a pang of sympathy for those Exodus people who could have easily been us.

“Oh no, it was the soldiers who got hurt - the Exodus guys had caught them unprepared. There were some gunshot wounds but mainly it was burns. The Exodus guys had been throwing Molotovs and home-made grenades at the checkpoints.The soldiers got their butts kicked.”

“That’s good! I mean- you know what I mean…” 

“Yeah I do. It’s okay Ike, people like us can’t help but siding with the underdog.”

People like us? I never thought as Jesse as really one of us. He had a good job and people respected him. But my brothers and I - despite our well-fed appearance and our clean clothes, still shared the same bottom rung of society with the Exodus. If anything, the Exodus were still Outsiders, who knew the Outside’s rules; we were starting from zero. My brothers and I belonged to the nice world of jobs and money even less than those people did. 

“So anyway, what’s keeping you up?” Jesse asked me.

I sighed. “I don’t know, the usual. Worrying about …everything.”

“You’re very good at that, for sure.”

“Yeah. It’s the only thing I’m good at.” I said, surprised at how accurate that statement was.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You can fix practically anything. Without you, this building would have fallen to pieces by now.” 

“I can’t fix my brother.”

“Oh come on, Ike. Nobody can fix his eyes, but he needs you right now. Self-pity is not going to help.”

“I know. It’s just that I wish I could do more, like…provide for him and Taylor. Instead, all I can do is to fix leaking faucets while the President of CANAAN gets to come to the rescue and make up for all the time when he didn’t give a shit about us.”

“Aaah, so that’s what this is all about…!” Jesse’s eyes narrowed. He was always so quick at figuring things out.

“I’m just saying.” I turned the palm of my left hand up and curled my fingers over it, studying my nails while I decided which flap of dead skin had to go first.

“No, this is clearly playing on your mind. I should have guessed.”

“It’s just that…” 

I’d start with the cuticle on my left thumb. 

“He had no interest in us for all these years, but suddenly he reappears, and thinks that throwing money at us can fix everything. And Zac won’t hear a bad word against him now.”

“Ike, I know that the guy was an arsehole to you but whatever his motives are, even if he’s just trying to clear a guilty conscience, he’s…the fucking President of CANAAN. The most powerful man on earth. Jesus, even saying it seems ridiculous! He can make anything happen - you want a job, you’ll get a job. The moment Taylor wants to get into nursing school, all he’ll have to do is whisper the right words into daddy’s ear. Just like that.” Jesse snapped his fingers. “People would kill for that kind of connection.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“You guess? Jesus, Ike, if it wasn’t that I know that you’re actually from a different world I’d ask you what kind of planet are you on.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that sometimes I feel that none of this is actually happening to me. Like…Zac gets on with him, and Taylor’s focused on his hospital work, and I’m just left here.”

Jesse reached for the remote control on the coffee table and turned the TV sound all the way down. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked straight at me.

“Ike, what do you want?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean exactly that - what do you want? It’s a simple question.”

It was a simple question but a really difficult one to answer - what does anyone ever want? I rubbed my thumb with my index finger, going over and over the hard flap of skin I’d only partially managed to pick. In a snap decision, I clenched both my fists and tucked my hands under my armpits.

“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about that. Not until recently, anyway. I never had to think about it before, at the Compound.”

“No shit. You spent your life in a cult, and whether you can see it or not, you were brainwashed. That’s what cults do, they play with your mind so that you don’t ask yourself ‘what do I want’ from life.” 

“Maybe. It’s just that life was simpler - as long as Zac and Taylor were okay, and as long as we had food on the table and a place to live, there wasn’t much else to ask for. But now, we’ve got all of that, and even a bank account with money, but that’s no thanks to me, and I kind of feel…”

Jesse looked at me, nodding at me to go on.

“…useless?”

Jesse nodded slowly. He looked tired, and his eyes sported dark circles around them, which looked even deeper from the blue shadows cast by the TV screen. Suddenly, I felt guilty for dumping all my problems on him when he was trying to wind down after a long day at work.

“I’m sorry Jesse - I don’t mean to bore you with all my problems.” 

“You’re not boring me, but if you were, you’d be doing me a favour. That’s what ‘Secrets of the Underwater Universe’ is supposed to do.”

“Does it usually work?” 

“Usually. The woman’s voice usually does the trick. So soothing.” He turned up the volume a few notches.

I gazed at the blue landscape on the screen, willing myself to focus on the female voice that accompanied the footage. The voiceover employed a soothing, repetitive tone similar to the Flock’s processing techniques, which I used when I struggled to fall asleep back at the Compound. Now the thought of anything remotely connected to the CoR only made me angry - which was most definitely not what I needed when I had insomnia. 

“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.” I said after a while, almost to myself. “I worry that Zac is relying on Taylor and me too much. He’s not a burden on us but shouldn’t he be at least a bit self-sufficient? What if something happens to me, or Taylor? What if we can’t take care of him anymore? He won’t make himself lunch, let alone leave the house on his own.” 

“You’re right, he does need to become at least a bit self-sufficient.” Jesse slowly sat up and hugged his knees. “But I do think Zac is a lot tougher than you think though.” he continued. “If he hasn’t really learnt to do things for himself it’s just because he hasn’t been trying. Maybe you can’t see it, but from the outside it’s really obvious that he’s got you and Taylor wrapped around his little finger. And you two obviously don’t mind.” 

“I know, it’s our fault, really. We always indulge him.” I admitted. 

“He’s lucky. You put him before anything else, and so far it’s been for the best. Maybe now that he’s got a firm diagnosis it’s time to push him out of his comfort zone every now and then. But it’s early days, you have to give him some time.”

“I don’t know how, or where to start. I don’t want him to think that I don’t want to help him anymore.”

“Start from the beginning. Look up the websites of those organisations for blind people, give them a call. You could get some advice on how to approach things with Zac. They must be used to this kind of situation, where the patient doesn’t want to be helped.”

“Do you really think so?” 

“Definitely, I see in hospital all the time, even if it’s for different reasons. Like, amputees who refuse to learn how to walk with prosthetics…that kind of thing. It’s a mental block and it takes time, but you can help him get here. And one day he’ll thank you for that.”

“Zac, thanking me?” 

“Hmm, maybe not.” Jesse’s mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“Seriously, though.” I said, after a pause. “Do you think that deep down he’ll want to be more independent?” 

“I do. It’s just that he doesn’t know it yet. He’s comfortable, he has his big brothers at his beck and call 24/7, pandering to his every whim. But the day he leaves the house by himself or when he learns to make himself some lunch without your help…he’ll appreciate it. I’m sure of that.”

“I hope you’re right.” I said. 

“Trust me, I’m a doctor.” 

“I wish there’d been a doctor at the Compound. Someone like you. None of this would have happened.”

“No, well, at least there was that nurse friend of yours.”

“Layne?”

“Whatever his name was, the one who sent Taylor to find some antibiotics. Otherwise your brother wouldn’t be here at all now.”

“I can’t bear thinking of what would have happened.”

“Neither can I. I hope that your father finds a way to shut that place down. That kind of shit is still going on - you got away but how many people live there? Hundreds? Thousands?”

“Two, maybe three thousand.”

“I can’t believe they’re allowed to carry on. It’s not as if people don’t know about the Flock.”

“Well, the President did say he’d make sure DuVall would be behind bars. Hopefully he will, one day, and close the Compound.”

“Yeah. Although…”

“What?”

Jesse shook his head. 

“No, never mind.”

“Come on, what is it?” I insisted.

Jesse crossed his arms over his knees, resting his chin on his hands. He took a long breath, as if he was trying to gain time.

“If DuVall was arrested, he’d still be able to talk. He could easily retaliate from his prison cell.”

“How?”

“Ike, I assume your father doesn’t know about…what you and your brothers do in private, right?” Jesse’s tone grew serious.

“No, of course not. Well, we certainly haven’t told him.” 

“Well, imagine if DuVall gets arrested. He knows who your father is, and he knows he holds a grudge against the Flock. If I were him, I’d want to get back at you, and the first thing I’d do would be to let your father know about your bedroom activities.”

It made sense. DuVall hated us and if he was cornered, he would do anything to take his revenge on us. “So if the President shuts down the Compound…he’ll find out.”

“That’s my guess.”

I tried to imagine our father as he found out that his sons were lovers. If Jesse had looked shocked, the President would probably be horrified. He’d probably disown us. We’d lose all his support, the financial help, the security we were only just beginning to enjoy. No, if DuVall talked, it would be the end of our relationship with Charlton McAllister, President of CANAAN.

“He’d never understand.” I said.

“I doubt he would. He comes from the kind of background that puts a lot of importance on religion, and strong moral values. Which is all bullshit when you consider that he had a secret family on the side for years.”

“So I guess it would be best for us if the Compound wasn’t shut down, after all.” 

“I don’t know. It’s just something else that could backfire.”

“But the people still there, like all those kids at the Club House, what about them? The President is their only hope to get out.”

We fell silent. All of a sudden, I felt weighed down with the responsibility of a hypothetical choice between security for me and my brothers, and a better life for the people we had grown up with at the Compound - those people were our former friends, neighbours, our teachers. Without the President’s intervention, they’d probably never see the outside of the Compound ever again.

 

“You know what, Ike” Jesse said, slowly getting up from the couch. “We’re just speculating here. It’s not as if you have a say on what the President of CANAAN is going to do about the Flock. The chances are that he’ll do nothing. So let’s not worry about that. Time for bed.”

 “True. It’s not as if it’s up to us anyway.”

I got up from the chair, and yawned. I had successfully managed to bore myself and Jesse to sleep.

“Good night, Isaac.”

“Good night. Thanks for the chat.”

“It worked. Cure for insomnia.” Jesse said, patting me on the back. 

The moment my head hit the pillow, I was gone. Soon I was dreaming again, haunting dreams in which DuVall told the President about me and my brothers. When I woke up the next morning, I felt an immense sense of relief. Nothing had happened, and the President had probably more important things to do than to worry about the Compound. I really have to stop worrying so much, I thought.

 

——

 

The phone call caught me completely unprepared. My brothers usually answered - I hadn’t spoken to the President since our meeting with him a few weeks before. But the cellphone had been ringing insistently, and staring at it in state of frozen panic hadn’t made it stop.

 There was no number on the screen - there never was, whether it was the President calling or one of his people, it always read ‘Private’. 

It’s probably one of his guys. I thought. The President wouldn’t call in the middle of the day, when we might be out. Maybe it’s something about our bank account. Maybe we’ve spent too much money?

The phone rang and rang.

Damn, I’m going to have to pick it up. Reluctantly, I touched the green button on the screen. I still wasn’t comfortable talking on the phone - it was something I’d hardly ever had to use at the Compound.

“Hello?”

“Isaac?” 

My stomach tightened the moment I heard my name. It was the President. What did he want?

“Mr President…” I heard myself saying in a shaky, strangled voice.

“No need to be so formal, Isaac.” my father chuckled.

“I’m sorry, yes, erm, Charlie.”

“Isaac, is Zac there with you right now?” 

“No, he’s actually in the other room listening to his music lesson. One second, I’ll go and get him-”

“No. I want to talk to you.”

“Um, sure?”

“Isaac, am I correct in thinking that Taylor and Jesse are out at the moment?” 

“Yes…they’re at the hospital.” I didn’t even want to think of how he knew that.

“Good. Now Isaac, I’m going to put you on speakerphone so anything we say will be hear by the others in the room.” he said in a tone that ruled out any arguments.

I mumbled a yes, still confused as to why the President of CANAAN wanted to talk to me, and above all, why did he need to involve other people in the conversation.

“Can you hear me now?” the President asked, his voice sounding a little more distant this time.

“Yes.”

“Good. Isaac, with me in the room are the Secretary of Homeland Security, the Southern States Police Commissioner and the Executive Assistant Director for Intelligence Branch of the CANAAN Bureau of Investigation."

“What…what’s this all about?”

“Isaac, we are here to talk about the Compound.”

 

——

 

If there had ever been a case of strange timing, this was it. The President had assured us that Jesse’s apartment wasn’t bugged, but sometimes I wondered if he had found a way to tap into our thoughts. It had only been a couple of days since the conversation I’d had with Jesse about the Compound and DuVall, and now the President was on the phone with his security team, wanting to discuss that very subject. It was a strange coincidence to say the least.

They started by asking me to confirm information they held on the Church: names of high ranking officers, including DuVall’s, the hierarchy, who did what and how things worked. 

“Why are you asking me all this if you already know the answers?” There was a pause. 

“We need to be sure that our intel is as accurate as possible before the operation is launched.” a female voice answered.

“The what? What operation?” I said. 

“Isaac, when I told you that I would take action against the Flock, I meant it.” my father said.

So it was happening, and sooner than I could ever have thought. A vice-like grip squeezed my guts, sending chills down my whole body. Why wasn’t Taylor there? 

Why me?

“Isaac, are you still there?” my father asked.

“Why are you asking me? Why aren’t you speaking to Taylor?”

“Because you’re the one who knows that Compound better than anybody else. You worked in the maintenance team, correct?”

“Yes, I did but-”

“Whatever you can tell us will help, Isaac. With your help, we can bring the Flock down, close the Compound and get Frobisher, DuVall and their lackeys. You do want us that to happen, don’t you?” 

I closed my eyes, and cast my mind back to the night when we nearly lost Zac, and to the following morning when our brother’s life was changed forever. I forced my mind to go to places I rarely visited - such as the Club House, where Taylor had spent half of his life in the service of men who had used him for their own sick pleasure. And I thought of our mother, who had been blind enough to believe that her own husband wasn’t one of those men. 

We had to get justice. Maybe DuVall wouldn’t tell, or maybe our father would find it in his heart to forgive us. Whatever the consequences, there was only one thing to do.

“Okay. I’ll tell you everything I know.” 

 

——

The President and his team fired question after question at me - about the Compound’s layout and exact location of every office and assembly room, about the type of security in place and even what type of building materials the various buildings were made of. I tried to answer as accurately as I could, but found myself stumbling and getting confused. It seemed so long ago since I’d been there and I didn’t trust my memory. What if I ended up giving the President’s team the wrong information?

After a while, the President interrupted me.

“Isaac, would you like to take a break? We can stay on the line while you get yourself a glass of water.”

“I’m okay. Wait, just give me a minute” I said, putting my head around the door. Zac was still sitting exactly where I had last seen him, with his guitar resting on his crossed legs and headphones still on his head. He looked completely absorbed by his music lesson. I sat back down.

“Okay, let’s carry on.”

 

——

 

I found out a lot about the Flock during that phone call. The Church had started as a sort of self-help method, ran by well-meaning people in small local groups around the former United States. It wasn’t a religion, or a cult, as everybody referred to it now. It was the brainchild of a single man, Horace K. Smith, the man we called The Shepherd.

Some of what the President’s advisers told me, I already knew: like every member of the Church, I’d been required to read “The Way of The Shepherd”, Horace K. Smith’s memoirs. In the book,  the Shepherd portrayed himself as a true hero: he claimed he’d overcome learning difficulties as a child just by sheer determination. In his early adulthood, he allegedly cured himself of mental illness through devising a mind reprogramming system. Once he’d realised how powerful his techniques were, he decided to share them with the public to help rid the world of physical and mental illnesses. He started by giving seminars, then lectures. Soon, satellite groups created by his disciples began to spring up in different cities throughout the country. 

It was at this point, one of the President’s advisors said, that the line became blurred, that the harmless self-help groups became closed, controlling communities. Also at around that time, Smith applied for religious status for his groups, so that the newly founded Church of Reconstruction could benefit from tax exemptions and special protection rights that pretty much gave the Flock free rein to act undisturbed in the name of religious freedom. Shortly afterwards, the Compound was built. As the President’s advisor explained, when the Church purchased the land a few years prior, the Government had failed to appreciate the true nature of the Flock; by the time it did, the Compound had become a world of its own into which people disappeared and never came back.

“Are you saying that nobody has ever left the Compound, other than us?” 

“We can’t be certain. It’s likely that somebody did escape, or attempted to, but we never had confirmed reports of it. You and your brothers are the only witnesses we know of.”

“So maybe there are survivors out there, but they’re too scared to talk?”

“Possibly. Outside the Compound, the CoR is known for its intimidation tactics. There are plenty of ex-members who have come forward, but they’re not former Compound members. The CoR’s satellite centres aren’t run in the same way. The Church needs to preserve a façade of respectability to attract new recruits and for fundraising. But the Compound is where selected members are sent, the elites, so to speak, and those are the people who are never heard from ever again.”  

“So our mother was …one of the elites?” I asked in disbelief. 

I heard some hesitation on the other end of the phone. 

“I’ll answer that.” The President said. His voice carried a touch of irritation.

“Isaac, when your mother was recruited, she quickly became a very fervent believer of the CoR’s teachings. It took over her life. Her recruiters must have seen that in her, and decided that she was Compound material.”

“So, she was obsessed.”

“She was vulnerable, Isaac.” he said curtly. I was suddenly conscious that there were other people in the room and wondered how much they knew. The President must have trusted them to let them into his secret; or maybe, they’d known all the way along. Either way, I was relieved that they couldn’t see me. Even if I knew I had done nothing wrong, I felt somewhat ashamed of being the President’s secret son. 

“So, what are you planning to do with what I told you?” I asked, changing the subject.

“That’s classified information, I’m afraid.” one of the voices said.

“So that’s it, you’ve been firing question after question at me but you won’t tell me what you’re planning to do? ”

“Isaac, please. You have to trust me.” the President said.

I clenched my jaw, stopping myself from saying what I was thinking. Why exactly should I trust you?  But the President wasn’t alone, and to be fair, he’d kept his word so far. How long that would last for though - that was a different story.

“Will you at least let us know if anything happens - if you manage to arrest DuVall?” I said, steadying my voice.

 I’d like to at least be prepared for his retaliation, I thought.

“You can be sure of that, Isaac.” the President said. 

After the call was disconnected, I sat staring at the phone’s screen until its light dimmed.  The President’s advisers had called the situation at the Compound ‘a matter of national security’: to prevent more CANAAN citizens to become prisoners of the Flock and to free those who already were. But for me, and probably for the President too, it was a matter of revenge. DuVall had to pay. The Church had to pay.

Satisfied with my new resolution, I got up, putting the phone in my pocket. I walked out of door and right into my brother, who was standing in front of me with his arms crossed.

“So, wanna tell me about your chat with the President? ”

 

——

 

As it turned out, Zac had been eavesdropping right from the start, all the while keeping his headphones on to look as if he was listening to his lesson. I had to hand it to him - my brother was a lot smarter than Taylor and I often gave him credit for. And as a result, I now had no choice but tell him about the conversation with the President and his Cabinet. As soon as Taylor came home that evening, Zac leapt to his feet and announced to our brother and Jesse that the President was going to catch DuVall.

“How is he planning to arrest him then? Is he going to send the police into the Compound?” Taylor asked when Zac had finished talking.

“I don’t know. They said it’s classified information and they couldn’t tell me what their plans were. But they asked me all sorts of questions about the layout of the Compound, the exact location of the electrical control box…” I shrugged. 

“So they’re really serious.” Taylor said, dropping himself onto the couch.

“Looks that way.” I sat beside him.

“What happens when they catch him? He’s not going to go down without a fight. He’ll have a few stories to tell at the very least.” he said, his eyes flitting from my face to Jesse’s.

“I know. I’m sorry - I just had to tell them. I couldn’t- we can’t let him get away with it.”

My brother’s lips curled into a thin smile, as he put a hand on my shoulder. “Hey. It’s okay. I would have done the same. It’s another worry, but we’re used to that by now.” 

Zac scrunched his face, shaking his head.

“What are you two on about?” 

Taylor and I exchanged a weary look. I quickly explained how DuVall’s arrest could damage our relationship with the President. 

“What, you think he’s going to ditch us because of that? He’s not going to do that.” Zac said once I’d finished talking. “No way.”

“I wish I shared your optimism.” I said.

“You don’t know him like I do.” Zac said.

“We don’t?” Taylor threw me an amused look.

“No. I’ve spoken to him a lot more than you have. He’s not going to leave us again because DuVall tells him stories about what we do in bed. Thats absolutely stupid. So stop worrying.”

Taylor’s mouth fell open, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. Since when had our younger brother the sensible one? 

“Maybe he’s right, you know?” Jesse said from the kitchen. “He fucked up once, and you could argue that it’s because he left your mom that that you ended up in the Compound and, um, having the type of relationship that you have now. So he’d probably think twice before cutting all ties with you again.” 

“I hope so. There’s nothing we can do about it now. I couldn’t - I couldn’t not help them.” I turned to Taylor - “not after what he did to you. If there’s a chance to get back at him, we have to do it.” 

“I know. I want that too. I just… I just hope that we don’t lose him already. I know he’s not really a father to us, but he’s all we’ve got, as far as family.”

Jesse walked out of the kitchen and leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. “You’ve still got a mother.” he said.

“Yeah, well, I wonder what will happen to her if they take DuVall?” I asked.

“She could have a story or two to tell the press.” Taylor said. “Between her and DuVall, they could really damage the President.”

“Who would believe them?” Zac asked.

“In politics, it doesn’t matter. Once a rumour is out, people tend to assume it’s true. No smoke without fire kind of thing.” Jesse said.

“So why is he even doing this? Why is he risking his reputation? He knows that DuVall knows about him and mom, he knows that mom might lash out at him. It seems like a really big risk, for what?”

“He tried to outlaw the Church years ago. He wants to finish what he started, I guess.” Taylor said.

“Yes, but he wasn’t the President of CANAAN back then.” I pointed out.

“What if…” Zac said.

“What if what?” I said.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s too crazy.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learnt recently, it’s that nothing that involves the three of you is too crazy.” Jesse said.

“Well, what if Charlie is not planning to give DuVall a chance to speak?” 

“You mean….” I said.

“I mean, what if DuVall is not supposed to get out of Compound?”

“What? You mean…the President might have him killed?” I said.

My brother shrugged. “It’s just a thought. It would solve the problem, wouldn’t it?” 

“Y-yeah but that’s murder, Zac. That’s a pretty extreme solution.” Taylor said. I wasn’t sure if he looked more horrified at the suggestion of murder, or at the fact it was Zac who had come up with that theory.

“What do you think?” Zac asked Jesse.

“Honestly…everything is possible but assassinating a cult member seems a bit hardcore for a newly elected President.” 

“Well, then he’s probably just going to put him in prison. You two have to stop worrying. Charlie’s not stupid. He’s not going to blame us for this. He’s going to blame DuVall even more, if anything.” His wisdom was hard to resist, and over the following days, I gradually came round to Zac’s thinking, even if I didn’t quite share his faith in the President. I trusted my brother’s heart: he’d always had an instinct for truth. So if he somehow had faith in this man we hardly knew, then I had no choice but to have faith in my little brother’s gut feelings. What else could we do anyway? The course was set and the President was not going to change his mind. All we could do was wait. 

As days and weeks went by without a word from the President’s people, we figured that if they hadn’t called us, there was probably a good reason. Maybe the operation had been ruled out as too high-risk, or - Jesse’ s favourite theory - maybe it was too controversial for a newly elected President and his team had talked him out of it. Time passed and the thought of DuVall’s arrest slowly began to fade from our minds.

 

— —— 

After telling us that there was nothing he could do for Zac, the eye surgeon had sent us home with some leaflets about practical help, and list of organisations supporting blind people. When we’d got home, I’d dropped them on the coffee table, where they had been lying since, a constant, nagging reminder that my brother was avoiding the issue and that I was hopelessly procrastinating. 

For goodness’ sake, just do it, I thought to myself one morning. Hesitantly, I turned on the laptop. Once Jesse had showed me the basics, it hadn’t been that hard to pick up how it worked, although I still couldn’t believe that it was so easy to look anything up. I’d never even heard of the internet at the Compound.

There was a lot of information on “solutions for blind people” - some high tech, some that had been around for hundreds of years - like a type of script that people could read just by running their fingers over it. I researched all the various options and, with great difficulty, jotted things down on a notepad. I’d found my project, and from that moment onward, I worked on it whenever I had a moment to myself. 

 Once I’d gathered enough material, all that was left to do was to pick up the phone and call one of the specialist helplines provided by the support associations. That was something I had been putting off until last: I worried that they’d ask me questions about our background and there was no way that I could tell our story to a complete stranger. When I finally forced myself to call - after dialling and hanging up twice - I was almost disappointed by the lack of awkward questions. Once again, I’d worried a lot over absolutely nothing.

 

—— 

We heard the news early on a Sunday morning. Jesse had knocked on our bedroom door, telling us to get up, that there was something on TV we had to see. “Zac, you too.” Jesse had said from behind the door, anticipating my brother’s usual resistance when it came to getting out of bed. 

We threw some clothes on and stumbled into the living room, where Jesse was standing with his armed crossed in front of the TV set. I blinked hard to clear my vision, which still slightly fuzzy from sleep. Several seconds ticked by as I tried to decode what my eyes were seeing: shaky aerial footage of a very familiar place. But something wasn’t right: there were armoured vehicles, people in army uniforms, empty streets. A banner flashed across the screen.

 

RELIGIOUS CULT’S COMPOUND SWARMED BY SWAT TEAM

 

We sat down, stunned at the scene unfolding in front of us. The feed switched from footage of helicopters flying around the perimeter of the Compound, to reporters stationed behind a cordoned-off area within sight of the front gates. We hadn’t seen our former home for almost a year now, and never from above. For so long it had been the whole world to us, beyond which nothing else existed. Now, from up in the sky, it looked so pitifully small. 

“This is way beyond just arresting DuVall, right? All those troops to get one man.” Taylor said.

“No, he’s getting the whole place shut down, by the look of it.” I said.

“What are they actually doing?” Zac asked. 

“It’s just not clear so far.” Jesse switched to a different news channel. “It’s just the same footage on all channels.”

“But where’s everybody? The streets look deserted.” Taylor said.

“Maybe they’re hiding. They’re probably wondering what the hell is going on.” Jesse said.

“What’s going to happen to them? There are good people there, they can’t just arrest them for no reason.” 

I recognised the worry etched in my brother’s face and knew he was thinking about Layne, and the kids he had tried to protect at the Club House. We were both wondering what would happen to the the people we knew, our former neighbours, our friends. 

“They’re not going to harm civilians. They’re obviously going after the people in charge.” Jesse said. “Listen.”

The newsfeed had gone back to the studio and a ‘BREAKING NEWS’ banner flashed at the bottom of the screen. The presenter leaned forward, adopting a grave expression.

“We are getting unconfirmed reports that high ranking CoR members have barricaded themselves in an underground bunker.  We understand that the SWAT team on the ground are trying to gain access to the bunker. The identity of the officers is yet unconfirmed but it’s likely to include the current leader of the Church of Reconstruction, Alexander Frobisher, who goes by the title General Frobisher. The Church is run like a paramilitary organisation…-” 

“Do you think DuVall is there?” Jesse asked.

“If Frobisher is there, he probably is.”

“And if DuVall is there, mom is probably there too.” Taylor said almost to himself.

“I hope she’s going to be okay.” Zac said.

As much as I would have liked to reassure my brother that our mother would be fine, I wasn’t so sure. She was married to one of Frobisher’s upper circle, after all, and I didn’t see her surrendering to the authorities without a struggle. She’d probably stand by her husband, even if he had abused her own son; that’s what she had always done, and that’s what she would probably do until the end. 

 

We ate breakfast in front of the TV, afraid that if we left the room we might miss something. Taylor made fresh pots of coffee while Zac was stretched out on the couch, his head resting on my legs, fidgeting as he tried and failed to go back to sleep; meanwhile, Jesse searched for more news on his laptop. According to various reports, the rest of the Compound population had gathered in the assembly hall - a massive theatre-like building that was used for conferences, lectures and celebrations. 

I watched the news in a daze, while a million questions ran through my mind. What would happen to our people? Some, like us, had lived at the Compound since childhood; some were born there. Even for new recruits, it usually didn’t take long to forget that there was anything other than desert beyond those gates.

“They must be terrified.” I said, as I watched the aerial footage of the assembly hall. 

“Or dying to get out.” Jesse said.

“We never really thought about getting away until they took Zac. You don’t think about it, you don’t question it.”

“That’s the problem when you’re brainwashed.” Jesse said.

“They didn’t ask to be brainwashed, Jesse.”

“Ike, calm down. I know you’re worried but I’m sure we’ll know more soon.” Jesse snapped his laptop shut and put it on the table.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that… it could be us there, not knowing what’s going on.”

“Only, it’s not us, and if we hadn’t come out, none of this would have actually happened.” Zac said, shifting on the couch as he turned to lie on his back.

I weighed my brother’s words carefully in my mind. He had a point: by leaving the Compound, we’d started something that had led to the scenes we were now watching on TV. Nothing we’d done had been an act of heroism; we’d just escaped from a life that was killing our brother. The decision had been imposed on us: there had been no other choice. It was as if an invisible force had led us down a certain path, and even when we thought it was as all over, the consequences of our actions had propagated like ripples. And now one of those ripples had hit the shore, and every person locked inside the Assembly Hall was a grain of sand dislodged by water.

 

It was early afternoon when the news reported gunfire. The SWAT team had broken through the reinforced bunker doors and stormed the shelter in which Frobisher and his people head been hiding. It was unclear who had fired first, the news reader said, and whether anyone had been injured. 

“Maybe they were going to shoot him, after all.” I said.

“Or maybe it’s the police who got shot. Surely they must have been armed to their teeth in that bunker.” Jesse said.

“This is just too much.” Taylor covered his mouth with his hand. 

“Tay, DuVall has to pay for what he did to you.” 

“But that’s in the past now, Ike. I don’t need retribution. I just want us to be left alone, and to have a normal life. We’d only just finally been able to stop worrying about money and security and I don’t want us to lose all of that because of DuVall.”

“Will you two just stop? Mom is in there! For all we know she could be the one who got shot! Just stop!” Zac burst out. “Fuck this. I’m going to ring him.”

“You’re gonna do what?” Jesse said.

“You heard. Where’s our phone?” 

“You’ve got to be kidding. We can’t ring him now.” I said.

“Why not? Give me the phone. Now.”

“If he hasn’t called us there’s probably a good reason, Zac.” Taylor said in a conciliatory tone. 

I shot a look at him, as if to say “please stop Zac from doing something really stupid?”.

“So what?” Zac continued. “We want to know if our mom is alive or dead and we have every right to call him.”

“Zac wait, look guys!” Jesse said, tilting his chin at the TV screen. A breaking news banner flashed on top of the screen.

“ONE CONFIRMED CASUALTY IN THE CLASH BETWEEN THE SPECIAL FORCES AND CULT MEMBERS LOCKED IN BUNKER.”

“….the police confirm that the casualty is an adult male…” the news reader voice announced

“…the victim has been identified as Lawrence DuVall…”

I stared at the screen in disbelief. DuVall was dead?

“Remind me not to ever get to the wrong side of your father?” Jesse said. 

“Maybe it was an accident…” Taylor said.

“It’s a bit of a coincidence, don’t you think? The President says he’s going to make your stepfather pay, and the next thing we know the guy’s been shot dead?”

A wave of nausea swept over me. I’d helped the President and his people to find DuVall and now they’d killed him. I buried my face in my hands, pressing my fingers deep down into my eye sockets until shapes of different colours flashed in front of me.

I wonder if that’s what Zac sees, I thought, digging my fingers in deeper, until my eyes began to hurt. 

“Ike. Ike.” Taylor’s hands gently pried my fingers away. I blinked my eyes open to find my brother crouched in front me. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” he said.

“No, it’s not okay. This is not okay. I need to call him.”

 

 ----

 

“Isaac.” The President picked up almost immediately. “I was about to call you.”

“What did you do?”

“Excuse me?”

“You had him shot. You said you were going to arrest him, not have him executed!”

“Isaac-”

“You asked for my help but you never said you were going to kill anyone!”

“Isaac please-”

“He was an asshole but shooting someone just like that? You’re not better than him!”

“That’s enough, Isaac!” my father’s voice boomed at the other end of the phone. “Will you just be quiet and listen!”

I drew in a deep breath. 

“Are your brothers there? Put the phone on loudspeaker.” he commanded.

I shot a questioning look at Taylor as I pressed the loudspeaker button on the touchscreen. 

“It’s on.” I said.

“Good. Who else is in the room?” 

“Just us and Jesse.” 

“I can leave if - ” Jesse stood up.

“No. He stays. I would have called you soon. I was waiting to have all the facts in front of me. But as you’re unable to wait and ready to jump to conclusions, I might as well tell you now.”

“Tell us what?” Zac asked.

“It was your mother. She shot DuVall.”

Chapter Text

The first thing that hit me as I stepped out of the police helicopter was a vortex of dry, hot air lifting soil and dust all around us. Noon was still a couple of hours away but the sun was already high, giving out the kind of warmth I had forgotten existed: stifling, brutal heat that instantly made me feel as if my insides were being sucked dry of all moisture. I looked up squinting at the sun: it looked nothing like pale, tepid yellow disc that floated complacently in the City sky. Standing on shaky legs amidst the whirlwind of dust, I could almost taste the baked, scorched earth that crunched beneath my shoes, the instantly familiar scent of the place we used to call home.

Only a few hours earlier, Special Agent Max Richter, a member of the Presidential security detail and the man our father had entrusted with all communication with us, had collected us from the apartment in an unmarked Oblivion. From there, he’d driven us to the City’s military airport, where we’d boarded a flight to a military base in the south. There, a helicopter was waiting to take us to our final destination, its blades already spinning like the wings of a giant iron bug. 

“Oh no, oh nononono,” Isaac had said, his face suddenly drained of all colour. When I finally managed to talk him into it, my brother had sat himself next to me, gripping my hand tightly for the duration of the flight, ignoring the odd looks from Richter and the pilot. This time there’d been no liquor on offer to soothe Isaac’s nerves, and the moment we touched the ground again, my brother was clambering over me to get out, his frantic efforts made impossible by the seat belt strapping him in place. I unbuckled him free and jumped out before Isaac could shove me out of the way in an attempt to get out first, having completely forgotten about our younger brother, who was still on board, waiting for one of us to help him out.

Since giving us the news about our mom, the President had called every day. The storming of the Compound had remained headline news as the media speculated on possible outcomes, while the people we’d grown up with were still barricaded inside the Assembly Hall. A SWAT team was standing by, ready to intervene, while specially trained negotiators still tried to talk the Church’s representatives into coming out. Convincing them wouldn’t be an easy job: our people were trained for such occurrence, and the basement of the Assembly Hall was fully stocked with supplies and weapons to last for at least two weeks in case of an Outsiders’ attack. But as my brothers and I knew very well, there was one, last, chilling resort for when supplies ran out during a prolonged siege: the flick of a switch would release gas into the Hall and, in the space of a few minutes, dispatch every CoR member to the Astral Plane where the Shepherd had been residing since his departure from earth many years ago. It was called ‘The Ascent’, my brothers and I told the President. In other words, it’s mass suicide, he’d replied.

Late on the night of the third day, he called again. For the first time since we’d known him, I detected an edge of concern in our father’s voice. “I never thought it would come to this,” he’d said. “And I know that I am asking a lot of you. But I need you to go back to the Compound, and talk to your people.”

-- --  

A SWAT police officer met us at the helicopter and escorted us to the cluster of police vans and trailers stationed outside the Compound’s walls. 

“Where are all the news vans?” I asked him.  After the first couple of days, the media had resorted to reporting on themselves, and we’d seen photos and footage of their vans, complete with huge satellite dishes, all sporting the logos of the main television networks. 

“The whole area has been closed off to all news teams so as not to compromise the operation. We’re enforcing a no-fly zone for civilian aircrafts too.” the officer said, pointing his index finger to the sky.

“Can they do that? Ban the media? Completely?” I asked.

“The orders came straight from the President.” the officer said.

Richter, pretending not to notice my questioning look, stared ahead, smugly.

As we I stepped inside the air-conditioned trailer, a tall uniformed man with cropped silver hair greeted us.

“I’m Chief Commander Durst and I’m in charge this operation. I believe you’ve already been briefed on the situation we are having inside so I’ll get straight to the point. Take a seat.” He said, gesturing at the table, around which several men and women in uniform already sat behind laptops. My eyes fell on one of the screens: it showed a live feed from of the security cameras that were scattered around the Compound. 

“So, what do you want us to do?” I asked.

“Wait, before we agree to do anything, we’d like to see our mother.” Zac said, still standing.

A look passed between Durst and Richter.

The President had assured us that our mother was safe and that she was being detained in a secure location, separately from the other CoR officers who had been captured in the bunker. He’d told us very little about what had happened, other that in the chaos resulting from the SWAT team irruption, our mother had got hold of a weapon and unloaded it on her husband. 

“Your mother is safe. She’s being questioned. You’ll get an opportunity to see her, but not until after we’re done with the Hall. We don’t want your meeting to compromise the effectiveness of the operation.” Durst said.

“Please, we need to know she’s ok. Just let us talk to her for a minute.” Isaac pleaded.

The Chief Commander glanced at Richter again, then nodded. 

“All right. Theroux, would you please bring up the feed for the holding cell.”

A dark haired officer tapped a few commands into a computer and then turned the monitor so we could see it. Our mother lay on a narrow bench inside a cell, her arms folded over a thin, orange blanket - the only splash of colour in the grey, dingy room. 

“Where’s that? Where did you take her?” I asked Durst.

“We didn’t take her anywhere. We need her here. We’re making use of the existing facilities, as there are plenty of cells available.”

Isaac shot me a worried look.

“That’s the Detox Centre.” I said just as I heard Zac’s sharp intake of breath. 

“They’d better treat her well.” My younger said under his breath.

“Don’t worry. She’s safe.” Durst said. “Now, let me highlight the plan to you.”

—

After the briefing, we followed Durst into another trailer which was being used as break room. After unceremoniously ordering the officers inside to clear out, he told us to help ourselves to cold drinks from the chiller cabinet and left us there, while he and Richter went over the last few details of the operation in the control room.  

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked Zac. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

“I can’t believe that this has to be the only way… can they not just kick the door in and get them out?” Isaac said.

“Ike, we’ve just been through all of that. Those people won’t come out, and it’s too dangerous to send the SWAT team in. There are children in there. That’s just the last resort.”

“I know, it’s just that I don’t see why it should be down to Zac to-”

“I said that I’m fine with that. I’ll do it. Now I just wish they’d hurry up.” 

“It’s weird to be here. It’s like…it’s the same place, only it’s not. We might as well be in a foreign country.” Isaac said.

“Well, we never really saw the place from outside, when you think about it.”

“True. We lived behind those walls for almost 30 years, and never set foot outside. Isn’t that crazy?” 

“It is. I don’t know what we were afraid of, really.”

“It’s not that we were afraid of the the Outside - we just didn’t question the inside. Just like those people in the Hall, I guess.” Isaac shook his head and took a sip of water. As he brought the small plastic bottle to his lips, I noticed that his hand was shaking. 

“We didn’t know any better, just like those people in there.” He continued.

“If you don’t know there’s anything worth going outside for, I guess…” I shrugged. “Maybe that’s what they need to hear, that there is-”

My words were cut short as Zac exhaled loudly through his nostrils before turning his head upwards and to one side. 

“What’s the matter?” I asked. 

“I just wish you two stopped talking, sometimes.”

Isaac’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

“Zac, don’t be like that. We’re just…saying.” I said.

“I know, but I’m trying to think, and I can’t do it with you two going on and on about things that we’ve discussed a million times.” 

“Well, excuse us for… existing…!” Isaac said, looking genuinely hurt.

I placed my hand on my older brother’s forearm and frowned, mouthing a silent ‘shush’. 

“Tay, he’s-”Isaac protested.

I shot my brother a warning look, glaring at him. Eventually, he shook his head and took another sip of water. 

In recent months, since he and Zac had become close, Isaac had been spared much of our younger brother’s moments of snappy sarcasm; maybe it had been the novelty of their relationship, the way it happens when people are in love. Clearly Isaac had forgotten about the years and years of being at the receiving end of our brother’s moods. I, however, knew that those moments would go as quickly as they’d come, and didn’t take anything too personally. Especially now, as I could only begin to imagine Zac’s anxiety, finding himself back in the very place that had nearly killed him. In a different situation I would have told him not to be rude, but this was not the time. 

I stretched out my hand and grabbed Zac’s arm, drawing it toward me until I could clasp his hand. Then I did the same with Isaac, prising his fingers away from the now empty water bottle.

“Are we good?”

“Sure, whatever.” Isaac shrugged.

“Hmpf.” Zac muttered.

“Okay, let me start again. Are - we - good?” I said, slowly enunciating every word.

“Yeah.”

“‘’kay.” 

It wasn’t the most enthusiastic reply one could hope for, but it would do. I gave my brothers’ hands a little squeeze, and smiled to myself as I felt their fingers tighten around mine. We’d get through this: we’d been through worse, much worse.

A knock at the door made me jump and I let go of my brothers’ hands. It was Agent Richter.

“Everything’s in place.” he said.

“About time.” Zac muttered under his breath.

Shooting Richter an apologetic look, I took Zac’s arm and placed it over mine. As I did so, the cellphone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and looked at the screen: it was a text from Jesse.

“Try to come back in one piece. Please no more crazy shit after this.”

I smiled to myself, imagining how those words would sound in Jesse’s deadpan tone. 

Richter cleared his throat. “I’m going to have to keep hold of that during the operation.” he said, tilting his chin up in the direction of the phone.

“Why? I won’t be calling anyone.”

“I know. Just standard procedure. You’ll get it back when it’s all done.” 

“Okay, just …give me a second.” I sighed. There was no time to come up with anything meaningful. 

“They’re confiscating my phone for a bit - don’t worry if you don’t hear from us. Will call as soon as I can. T.”

I turned the phone off  and handed it to Richter. 

“Here.” 

“Oh and this.” Isaac said, digging something out of is pocket. It was the phone we used to call the President.

“You can keep that.” Richter lifted his palm to stop him. “That goes through a secure line. And the President might call you.”

“Can we just do this?” Zac tugged at my arm.

Richter threw me a sympathetic smile and held the door open. A waft of dry, hot air, burst into the air conditioned room. As I stepped out of the trailer, I blinked repeatedly at the brightness, fighting the urge to run back inside and hide in the cool, shaded room. All of a sudden, I wanted nothing more than being back at home, surrounded by Jesse’s books and instruments. I missed the magic of winter in the City - the walks in the snow, the streets all covered in white. Now everything around me looked different shades of the same colour - rusty red brown. 

How could I ever have lived here? This isn’t home anymore.  

“Tay. Tay?” I felt Isaac’s hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m okay now.”

Get it together, I thought. We’ll be home soon.

——

The drive through the deserted streets of the Compound only took a few minutes, a further reminder of how small our old world actually was. I was used to navigating the place on foot: cars were reserved for officers and only a handful of maintenance teams were trained to drive vans and trucks to move supplies from one part to another of the campus. The Compound did have a small fleet of electric personnel carriers, which officers and selected high level members were allowed to ride, but the rest, like us, had to walk. As a result, I’d learnt to walk quickly and with long strides, and could get from one end of the Compound to the other in less than 20 minutes. It wasn’t a very long walk but it was often an uncomfortable one, because of the heat and the sun, and everybody looked with envy at the sight of senior members travelling in the personnel carriers under a sunroof, getting to their destination without having to break into a sweat.

The SWAT van stopped outside the Assembly Hall. I took a deep breath to steady myself and stepped out. Aside from the armed police patrolling the perimeter of the Hall, there was nobody else around. The Hall was the biggest building in the Compound, a round, dome-like white building with a single main entrance door. I had often thought that in case of fire it would have been impossible for a crowd to make it out quickly enough; now I realised that that was exactly the idea - that if gas had been released inside, a single door would make it easier to contain anyone trying to get out.

We followed Durst to a makeshift control centre that had been set up under a large white canopy, with computers and other electronic equipment placed on folding tables. An senior looking officer in uniform looked up from a computer screen

“Are these that woman’s kids?” he asked Durst as he saw us approach.

“These are our witnesses, yes.” Durst said dryly. “Let me introduce you to Lieutenant Simmons. He’s assisting in the operation.” 

“And I’m Special Agent Max Richter. These are Isaac, Taylor and Zachary Anderson. I’m here to ensure their safety.” Richter addressed the Lieutenant with a hint of annoyance in his voice. I smiled to myself - for all his professional detachment, Richter was now firmly on our side.

“Very well.” Simmons said. “Everybody’s safety is paramount here. Now, let’s run through the plan.”

——

Simmons explained that the technical team had managed to hack into the PA system inside the Assembly Hall, which was also connected to several big screens. The PA and video system was normally controlled from a mixing desk located inside the hall, but the tech team had managed to override the input to allow an external video broadcast. “We are confident that it will work, but should it fail, we will still be able to rely on the audio feed via the emergency speakers.”

“The speakers! Of course!” I said.  

I had forgotten about the emergency speakers which were positioned all around the Compound. They were meant to serve during emergency drills, blasting out instructions on what to do during an Outsiders’ attack, but they were also used to broadcast motivational messages through the day, quotes from the Shepherd and short processing exercises. There were speakers in the corridors of the residential blocks, in the school building, in the kitchen of the Club House - and a lot of other places. It was the best way to ensure that anyone in the Compound heard a message.

“I’m glad our plan meets with your approval.” Simmons said, his mouth curling into a sneer. “So, he’s the one doing this?” he asked me, looking at Zac up and down. 

“I’m not deaf, you know.” My brother said. 

I stifled a laugh. Zac didn’t care about status or rank or if the person talking to him was carrying a weapon. He put everybody in their place regardless.

Simmons looked impassibly at Zac, studying him for a few long seconds.

“Understood.” he said at last. “Then let’s start.”

He gestured to a high foldable chair set in front of a white screen; a camera was already mounted on a tripod. I guided my brother to the chair and gently pressed down on his shoulder to let him know he could sit down. Someone clipped a microphone to his shirt and asked him to repeat certain words into it to test it. My brother complied, but I could see that he just wanted to get on with it. 

“He can stop whenever he wants, right?” I turned to Durst, who I felt would be marginally more sympathetic than Simmons.

“Sure. If he wants some water or anything - he just has to sign and we’ll stop. Just lift your hand and we’ll stop, son. Okay?” Durst said, turning to Zac. 

“I won’t need to stop.” my brother said curtly.

“Okay then. You’re in charge.” Durst said, one corner of his mouth twisting into a smile. “Simmons - live countdown please.”

I reached out quickly to squeeze my little brother’s arm. “We’re right here, Zac.” 

But my brother didn’t acknowledge me and instead remained still, his eyes fixed on an invisible point somewhere beyond the camera.

——

“My name is Zac. Some of you might remember me - I used to work in the Children’s Block. You might also remember my brothers, Isaac and Taylor. We grew up here. The Police have asked me to talk to you because you won’t come out. I understand why you don’t want to - it’s the only world you know. And you think the Outsiders are bad people, and that if you listen to them, you’ll never walk with The Shepherd when the time comes. I know you’re still hoping to join him, I know that you believe in the march to salvation.”

“I know that you’re scared of losing everything you’ve got - your only home, your beliefs. I know that the Outside scares you. Now that I live there, I can say that you’re partly right. The Outside is a scary place, with rules that I find hard to understand.” 

“But this is a scary place too. When my brothers and I told people about it, they were horrified. They say that we were prisoners, that we’d been treated like slaves. They couldn’t believe the stories we told them. So you think the Outside is bad, but to the Outsiders, this is a really, really bad place too.” 

“The thing is, while you live here, you don’t know any better.”

Zac paused for a second and took a long, shaky breath. I glanced questioningly at Isaac, unsure if we should stop him. 

“He’s okay for now. There, look.” he whispered and put his hand on my shoulder as Zac began to speak again.

“About three years ago I got very sick. When my brothers took me to the infirmary, the staff didn’t know what to do with me. They couldn’t give me anything other than some disgusting detoxing juice. They told me to run through some processing exercises to purify myself, that it was my soul that had gotten sick. Of course, I didn’t improve, in fact I got even sicker, so sick that my brothers thought I’d die. What saved me were the drugs that the officers kept locked in a cabinet in the Club House. Not the detoxing juice, not the processing drills, but drugs - the kind of medicines that doctors on the Outside prescribe every day to sick people. Those drugs were for the Officers only: they weren’t for me, or for you. They weren’t meant for the ordinary people of the Flock. Those drugs saved my life but when I took them it was already too late and when I woke up the next morning, I was blind. And I’ll never see ever again because those in charge here kept those medicines for themselves.” 

“So, tell me, are those the kind people you want to put your faith in for the rest of your life?”

“But this isn’t all of it.”

“Some of you might remember my brother, Taylor. He worked at the Club House. Maybe you’ve heard the rumours: that the best looking kids are sent there to be…used by the officers. It’s one of those secrets that isn’t really a secret. On the Outside, the call this abuse. But here, it’s something that just happens, and nobody can stop it. I ended up working there too, for a while, but then Taylor managed to have me sent away and got me a job at the Children’s Block. And at first I didn’t understand, and I was angry at him. It was only later, years later, that I understood what he’d done for me.”

“Even so, we accepted things as they were because we didn’t know any better. We believed the stories our teachers had told us and we thought the Outside was worse, far worse than here. Then, one day, the guards took me away and locked me up in the Detox Center. I’m sure you’ve heard stories about the Detox Center - about how people go in with problems and come out healed? But you might also have heard stories about people who never come out at all. That could have been me: I was locked up for three months. They did things to me - painful things that were supposed to fix me. Things that when you tell an Outsider about, they call it torture. I didn’t think I’d make it out of there alive. But then my brothers came to rescue me. The Police say that we’re the only people they know who escaped, and that’s why they asked us to talk to you, so that we can tell you that there is hope outside these walls. We’re the living proof that it doesn’t have to end here.” 

“But it will end, one way or another, and if you don’t come out, it won’t end well.”

“Because it will end here if you let it. Look up now - go on, look up at the ceiling. Do you see those black circles on the ceiling? They’re not sprinklers. They’re gas outlets. You remember, right? The Final Solution Protocol? The emergency plan if an attack from the Outside continues? The Police can’t stop that - the gas system can’t be deactivated from outside the hall. They can break the door down but they know a lot of you are armed. If you fire, they’ll fire back.” 

“If you’re scared about where you’ll go next, don’t be. The President of CANAAN has asked me and my brothers to let you know that you will be taken to a safe place and you will receive help so that you can start a new life in CANAAN. By the way, CANAAN is the new name for this country now. In CANAAN you can vote for the person you want to be in government. And also, you’re allowed to believe in whichever god you like. People go to different types of churches and pray because they want to, not because anybody is forcing them to. There are a lot really good things on the Outside -  all sorts of food, and music and movies with stories that you just watch for fun. You can choose what you want to do for living - like my brother Taylor, he wants to be a nurse. And my oldest brother Isaac is good at fixing stuff and people in our neighbourhood pay him with real money to do jobs around their homes.” 

“As for me, well, I can’t do much anymore. But I’ve learnt to play music. Maybe one day I’ll be able to do something useful again. I hope so, anyway.”

“If you think it sounds a bit too good to be true, well, I can tell you that it’s not all perfect out there. It’ll take some getting used to, because some aspects of our lifestyle are considered strange on the Outside. But there’ll be people to help you.” 

“It’ll be easier for you than it was for us. When we left, we had no money and didn’t know anybody. We slept in a tent city and had very little food. It was really cold at night, in our tent and we weren’t used to that kind of cold. Believe me, it wasn’t easy to survive out there, but we did.”

 “We said we’d never come back to this place but here we are, now. I don’t know if you can see my brothers but they’re standing right there with me. We’re here now and we have this one chance to help our people. So let us help you.  You have to trust us. What you were brought up with was a bunch of lies - pure lies. Let this end without anyone getting hurt. Do it for your children, do it for the people you love. Just trust me and walk out of that Hall, walk away from a life without hope, walk away now.” 

“Please trust me, and walk away.”

 ——

Zac turned his face away from the camera and toward where Isaac and I were standing. His eyes flitting from left to right, unsure of where to focus, lost with no reference point. He looked younger, all of a sudden, younger than his 27 years, and that pretence of self-assuredness he’d put on only a little while earlier had completely vanished, leaving a lost boy behind. So what happens now? His face seemed to say. I looked at Durst. He and Simmons had been standing cross-armed throughout my brother’s speech, watching him intently, only occasionally throwing a worried glance at the Assembly Hall’s entrance door. 

Durst lifted his hand, as if to say ‘wait’. 

“Erm…” Isaac said, waving a finger in front of his eyes. Durst looked confused for a second, until he realised that Zac couldn’t see him.  

“Stay there, Zac, for now.” he said. “You - keep the video going but mute the sound. Tell me when it’s done.” he said the officers monitoring the broadcast from a computer.

“Done Sir.” the man said after tapping something into the laptop.

“Okay, we can talk freely now. But inside, they’ll still be able to see Zac. So stay away from the frame.”

“So…what’s happening now?” I asked. 

“Now, we wait.”

I let out a sigh of frustration. I wasn’t sure of what I’d been expecting, but now the plan seemed to be really weak. Did they really expect people to suddenly pour out of the Hall, just because my brother had told them to? Was that all Durst could come up with? 

“Tay…I’m - it’s…really hot here.” Zac called in a thin, shaky voice. 

His skin was so white now it almost glowed in the harsh daylight. Before anyone could object, I rushed up to him. I didn’t care if I stepped into the frame or not - I wasn’t going to let my brother pass out in front of me.

“Can we get some water?” I asked over my shoulder. I touched Zac’s forehead with the back of my hand: it was hot and clammy.

Someone handed me a bottle of water. I unscrewed the cap quickly before putting the bottle in my brother’s hand. I kept my hand over his as he shakily took the bottle to his mouth and took a long sip. 

“Easy, easy. Small sips.” I said, although I knew my brother would just ignore me, which, of course, he did, carrying on taking big gulps of water until it was all gone.

“Better?” I asked him as he handed me the empty bottle. 

“Yeah, thanks. I just felt so hot all of a sudden.” 

“Should we not just stop this now? I mean, it’s clearly not working. Nobody’s coming out.” Isaac asked.

I turned questioningly to Durst and Simmons. Isaac had made a good point. There wasn’t the slightest indication of movement from inside the Hall.

Durst exhaled slowly and lowered his eyes. “Not yet.” he said after a few long moments. “We’re going to try something else. You-” he said addressing me. “Do you have a close friend in there? Someone who might listen to you?”

I thought for a second - I knew a lot of the people who were locked in the Hall right now. But there was only one person who maybe I could get through to.

Layne. 

—

My heart raced as I watched the cameraman count down with his fingers - three, two, one. Durst looked at me and nodded his head, signalling that the audio feed was back on.

“Hi. My name is Taylor. I’m Zac’s brother. There’s someone among you, someone I want to talk to. A friend of mine and my brothers’. Layne, I know you’re there. Well I think you are - I hope you are. I hope nothing bad happened to you.” 

It had only just occurred to me that maybe Layne wasn’t there anymore. What if they’d found out that he’d helped us? What if he’d been locked into the Detox Center too, as an inmate, rather than a nurse? It’s too late for that. Just assume that he is there, I thought, trying to steady myself.

“Layne, when we got out, we became friends with a doctor. We live with him now, he’s helped me get a job as a volunteer as the hospital. One day I’d like to become a nurse, like  you. Jesse - our friend - he said that if it hadn’t been for you, Zac would have died. I wouldn’t have known what drugs to take from the Club House. You saved my brother’s life. That’s what you studied nursing for, right? To help people. But this place won’t let you help anybody - all you can do is watch people get sick and suffer because there’s no medicine for them, no treatment. You know that this is wrong, don’t you? You know that this place is not a good place. Deep down you know it because you’ve lived and worked on the outside. Please, just…talk to those people around you. Tell them to come out.”

“Layne” my brother said, his voice a little stronger than minutes before. “I never really thanked you for what you did for me. I’m still here. I’m still here and I owe that to you.” 

I felt a lump in my throat at my brother’s words. If that wasn’t going to work, nothing else would.

The Commander turned to the officer at the computer and made a slashing gesture across his throat with his index finger. 

“The sound’s off now, Sir.” the officer said.

“Kill the video now.” the Commander then told the camera operator.

The red light on the camera went off. Suddenly, a mix of relief and exhaustion washed over me. 

“They will probably be arguing it among themselves now. We can only wait. If nobody comes out in an hour, we’ll go in.” the Durst said. 

“How long would it take to break in?” Isaac said.

“With power tools, it could take up to 30 minutes or more. That door is made of reinforced steel and concrete. In normal circumstances, we’d blast it off with a controlled explosion, but we can’t run that risk in case they’ve released the gas. Otherwise the whole place will blow up.”

“Is that how you got into the bunker? With explosives?” I asked.

“There was no need for that. We had the combination.”

“What?” we said.

“Yes. From our mole.”

“Your what?” I said.

“Sorry to interrupt Sir.” An officer said. “Look at the Hall, Sir. Someone’s coming out.” 

I turned my eyes to the Assembly Halls’ door. My heart skipped a beat as I recognised the pale blonde man walk walking slowly toward me.

It didn’t cross my mind that someone behind him might be armed, and I ignored the voices shouting at me what the hell do you think you’re doing, as I ran the short distance between the canopy and the Hall, and threw my arms around our old friend.

——

I still had my arms tightly gripped around Layne when people began to appear at the door - frightened faces staring at me, unsure of what to do.

“It’s okay, it’s safe to come out.” I said to them over Layne’s shoulder. There was so much I wanted to say to him but it would have to wait: now we just had to get everybody out of the Assembly Hall, and out of the Compound. 

Gradually, they began to emerge from the Hall, first in clusters of two or three, all adults, invariably worn-out looking and pale, some still wearing their work uniforms, some shielding their eyes from the light after all those days spent indoors. Then the groups grew bigger, and soon our people were pouring out of the single door, and uncontainable flow now, mothers carrying their children, men and women hand in hand, all leaving the Assembly Hall, all turning their backs to the Flock, the Church and the Shepherd.

Soon the SWAT officers were directing the crowd to a large grassy area near the Hall, a space usually reserved for ceremonies and outdoor events. I looked at the yellow-brown grass and realised that earlier outside the Compound, I’d seen no grass at all. This was another of the Compound’s illusions - the illusion of life in a perfect world, where people lived in harmony among a few scattered trees and a perfectly manicured lawn. Now, however, I’d seen real grass, lush green grass watered by the rain that fell almost daily in the City. It was nothing like this. 

The crowd kept growing bigger, and soon the grounds outside the Assembly Hall were tightly packed. Once he’d assured himself that his family was safe, Layne followed me under the canopy, having found himself the reluctant spokesman of this quiet rebellion. 

“Someone’s here to see you, Zac.” Isaac said, a massive grin spreading across his face.

“Layne?”

“You’ve sure packed some weight on, buddy…” Layne’s voice cracked as he wrapped Zac into a tight hug. We couldn’t keep it together after that, and the four of us hugged, laughing and crying at the same time while Durst, Simmons and the officers stood watching us. I thought we’d never see our friend again and judging by his reaction, neither did he. 

“Last time I saw you, you were in a bad way. Look at you now. Look at you now.” Layne wouldn’t stop saying, holding my brother’s face between his hands. “All three of you. You look so different.”

“Fat, you mean?” I joked.

“Well…well-fed.” 

“The food’s a lot better on the Outside, Layne.” Zac said.

“Oh I know. I remember very well!”

“Were you okay after we left? I mean they didn’t figure out that….” I asked.

Layne’s face darkened. “I’m still here in one piece, aren’t I?”

“Layne, did anything happen?” Isaac frowned.

“A lot happened after you left, but I don’t think this is the right time.” He said, nudging his head toward the the Commander who was walking toward us.

“We need to get a move on and evacuate these people.  They’ve been handing over their weapons voluntarily, so can we assume that they will continue to cooperate?” Durst asked Layne.

“Yes Sir. But where are you evacuating us to?”

“You will all be taken to a former US Air Base which has been converted precisely to take in a large number of …guests. All the arrangements are in place. The buses are ready outside. Your job is to tell them that without spreading panic. Can you do that?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“So you’ve got everything in place already? How long have you been planning for this?” I asked Durst as soon as Layne was out of earshot.

“This operation has been in the works for weeks. As I said earlier, we had an informant on the inside.”

“Who’s the informant?” I asked.

“You really didn’t know?” Durst looked surprised. “The mole was your mother.”

 ——

 Saying goodbye to Layne was harder than I expected to, despite Richter’s assurance that we’d be allowed to keep in touch with him. It didn’t seem right: we’d only just seen him again, and we already had to part.

“Maybe the President can do something for him - maybe he can help him find a job and a place in the City? After all, Layne’s a nurse, right? He can get a job at your hospital, right?” Zac asked anxiously while we waited by the side of the bus as police officers with clipboards took details of all the waiting passengers. 

“I don’t know, Zac. Maybe. He’s got a wife and daughter to think about too. Don’t forget that his wife was one of the best Processing Officers in the Compound. It might take her a while to adjust to the Outside.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just hope that they’re not just going to lock them inside that Air Base forever. It’s just going to be worse than here.” Zac said.

“They won’t. We won’t let them.” I reassured him, making a mental note to check with our father once we’d got back home. Setting the Flock people free was an impressive gesture by the President of CANAAN, but those people would need help for a long time after that, and I wasn’t going to let him forget about them.

“Look, here he comes.” Isaac said, gesturing at Layne who was walking toward us.

“So, you’re all set now?” I said to Layne with a forced smile as I saw his wife board the bus behind him, holding the hand of a little girl with hair so blonde it almost looked white.

“Yep. Ready to go. They said that I’ll be able to speak to you from the Air Base.”

“Yeah, we’re going to make sure that you’re okay, Layne. There’s still so much you have to tell us.” I gave him a pointed look.

“Yeah well, there’s still time for that. It’s all over now, that’s all that matters.”

For the second time that day, we hugged as we said our goodbyes, and despite half hearted attempts at jokes, there was no hiding the tears in our eyes. I decided there and then that there was nothing I disliked more than goodbyes.

Layne had started to walk away when I remembered that there was something I wanted to ask him.

“Layne, wait!” I called. 

He turned back.

“How did you get them to follow you out?” Layne was many things but I’d never had him down as the persuasive, charismatic leader.

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were ready to come out before you came on the screen and asked for me, but we couldn’t decide on who would be the first one. Then you said my name and the decision was made.” 

“So what changed everyone’s mind, in the end? Was it what Zac told them?” Isaac asked.

Layne hesitated before answering, glancing at Zac as if he was unsure that it was okay to speak in front of him.

“Just tell us, Layne.” I urged him.

“All right.” Layne said. 

“It was when Zac told us of how he’d gone blind. There was this kid just feet away from me who began to cry. His mom tried to calm him down but he was inconsolable. He was crying so hard that I couldn’t hear what was coming through the speakers anymore. He was crying and crying, and then everybody around him heard him wail - “teacher Zac, they broke his eyes”. I think that’s when a lot of people in the Hall figured out who you were.” Layne said, smiling now.

“Other children started to point at the screen then, saying you’d been their teacher too. And you know what children are like, if one starts, the others follow, and the next thing I knew there were children crying all around the Hall. I’m surprised you didn’t hear them from the outside.” he said. 

Zac shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together. 

“We were locked in that Hall for days and we couldn’t agree on what to do - some of us wanted to leave, but a lot of people thought it was safer to stay. And then-” Layne shook his head in bemused disbelief “- then we saw our children cry for their school teacher who had his eyes ‘broken’. That’s when we realised that all we’d known right until that moment was wrong. Your broken eyes freed us, Zac.”

Layne reached out and put his hand on my brother’s face, which was now streaked with tears, and patted his cheek lightly. 

“I’ll see you.” He said, before walking away again, then stepped on to the bus without turning back. 

——

The Detox Centre was situated at the northern end of the Compound, away from the relative luxury of the Assembly Hall and the other official buildings. It was an anonymous, nondescript white building; from the outside, no one would have guessed that a multitude of horrors hid behind its plain façade.

“Are you sure you’re okay doing this, Zac?” Isaac asked our brother. 

“Uh-uh.”

I noticed Zac’s hands were shaking as he tried to unscrew the cap of a water bottle. Isaac and I looked at each other: we both knew that to go back in there was far from ideal. As we stepped through the double doors, Zac walking in between Isaac and me, I felt his fingers grip my arm tightly. 

“It’s through there, Ward C.” A female police officer, who was standing guard, said to the Durst. We followed him and Agent Richter through another set of doors to the left of the now empty reception desk, and as we did, a strong, peculiar smell suddenly hit my nostrils. 

Zac froze.

“Tay, stop.” He said.

“What is it? Are you okay?” I asked him.

“I can’t.” 

My brother stood rigidly on the spot, his head turned up as he gasped for air.

The Commander shot me a questioning look.

“Just wait, please, one second.” I said. “Zac, I thought we’d gone through this. We’re just going to talk to mom in one of the staff rooms. We’re not going to her ce - room.” I said, stopping short of the word ‘cell.’

“I can’t do it. It’s the smell. I can’t do it.” 

Of course, I thought. The smell was pretty strong even for me - no wonder my brother was refusing to budge.

“We’re going to have to see her somewhere else.” I said to the Durst and Richter. “We can’t ask him to carry on with this.”

“I understand but it’s going to be an operational nightmare to transfer the inmate to-”

“I don’t care about your operational nightmare,” Isaac burst out. “My brother has done enough for this operation today. I’m taking him outside.”

Isaac took Zac’s arm and turned him around. I shot an apologetic look at Durst and Richter and then followed my brothers as they hurried through the reception area and through the double doors. The moment we stepped outside, Zac let go of Isaac and leaned forward, retching; seconds later, he was sick over the concrete sidewalk. He threw up until there was nothing left in his stomach, while we watched helplessly, Isaac keeping our brother’s hair off his face while I rubbed his back. 

“Can we get him a medic?” Richter said to Durst. They’d followed us outside and had been watching from a safe distance. 

“Sur-“

“I don’t need a medic.” Zac snapped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I just want to speak to my mother, and then I want to get out of here and never come back.”

——

Despite Durst’s protests, Richter had decided that Zac had spent enough time at the Compound and that we were to return to the temporary control room on the outside. Our mother would be brought to us and we’d be allowed to talk to her on our own.

We stepped back inside the air-conditioned trailer just as the police officers were packing up their computers and hurrying outside. I couldn’t help noticing a few curious glances, which Richter intercepted and returned with a cold, impassible stare. When the last officer left the room, he took one of the foldable chairs that was stacked in a corner, opened it and sat down. 

“I want you to be very clear about what happens next. You are not to mention anything that is discussed with your mother to anyone. Understood?”

“Of course.” I said, mentally exempting Jesse from the ‘anyone’. If the President of CANAAN had allowed him to listen in to one of our phone calls before, that was surely a sign that Jesse was in the circle of trust. 

“It’s particularly important not only for the President’s sake but also for her own safety. We’ve shut down this place but there’s still the chance that Frobisher and his circle could reach out to somebody on the outside and get to back at her for what she did.”

“So, where’s our mom going to go? What are you going to do with her?” Zac asked.

“Protective custody first, then WITSEC, most likely. Because of her role in bringing down the Church, she’ll be treated like a key witness.”

Our mother arrived not long afterwards, accompanied by Durst and a female officer. She was handcuffed. As our eyes met, a flicker of shame flitted across her face.

“Are those cuffs really necessary?” I asked as I stood up.

“Take them off.” Durst ordered the officer.

“Thank you.” my mother said, rubbing her wrist with her thumb

It was awkward - the last time we’d seen each other had been via a TV screen, and we hadn’t exactly left in good terms. 

I waited until Richter, Durst and the agent had gone and then spoke fist.

“Hello, mother.”

“Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you or anything?” Isaac said.

“I’m fine.” she said.  She looked tired but calm, a quiet sense of relief and acceptance written all over her face. 

“Mom, did you really do it? Did you kill DuVall?” Zac asked.

“So they told you.” She nodded.

“Yes. And they said that you were their …informant?” Isaac said.

Our mother nodded quietly.

“Why? What made you change your mind?” I asked. 

My mother’s face suddenly brightened and her lips curled into a smile of the kind I hadn’t seen on her for a long, long time. She blinked slowly.

“I woke up.”

—

Our mother told us that, after what had happened at the Satellite Center, DuVall had insisted that she undergo some further processing training ‘to eradicate any conflicting feelings’ she might have developed towards him. He’d accused her of being a willing accomplice to everything that had happened to me, saying that she had chosen to ignore the fact that I, her son, had made a pass on her own husband. I was the one who ought to be blamed, not him, he’d said. My mother accepted the training, partly to pacify DuVall, but also partly because she still hoped that something would take her guilt and shame away. It didn’t work, and in the weeks that followed she’d come to the decision to contact the very same President’s Advisor who had told DuVall where to find us. She gave him the information the Security Services needed to storm the Compound and told him the combination to the bunker, where she knew that Frobisher and his upper circle would hide during an incursion.

“So, did the President put you up to that? Did he order you to kill DuVall?” Zac asked.

“No, Zachary. Whatever you may think of your father, he would never have asked that of me.”

“But now you’re going to be in danger. Agent Richter said that you’ll probably have to go in Witness Protection.” As I said that, a lump rose in my throat as it dawned on me that although we had our mother back, it wouldn’t be for long.

“I spoke to your father at length yesterday. He told me that you’re being taken care of. That’s all I need to know. I don’t care about anything else.” 

She hesitantly reached across the table for my hand, as if she wasn’t sure of how I’d react to my mother’s touch. I put my hands over hers - I had forgotten how small and delicate her hands were. 

“But…what will you do?” Zac asked.

“I will try to stay awake.”

Before they led her away, our mother told us that when we disappeared, she’d managed to arrange for someone to salvage some of the stuff we’d had to leave behind; she’d stored our most precious possessions in her apartment, explaining it to DuVall with the excuse that one day we’d be back. We didn’t have much, but I was excited at the idea of retrieving our old notebooks and Zac’s paintings, and a few other precious mementos of our childhood that we thought were lost forever. It was the nicest thing she’d ever done for us.

Our goodbyes were stilted and strangely formal, and as we watched our mother leave, I felt as if the woman I was looking at wasn’t really our mom, but just this woman we knew, Olivia Anderson, whose family name we just happened to share. We’d lost our mom a long time before, years before, when she’d given up her soul to a conman whose lies she’d followed all the way into the southern desert.

It’s actually beautiful here, I thought, looking at the red, barren landscape one last time as the helicopter began to lift off. I kept my eyes fixed on the Compound as it grew smaller and smaller, until it was behind us and gone from view. It was only then that I felt it: a pain like I’d never felt before, clawing at my heart with a viciousness that left me struggling for breath. As the thumping in my chest grew louder and louder, I became vaguely aware that Isaac was talking to me; his lips were moving, but all I could hear was the whooshing sound in my ears, and I wondered if I were really there, flying in the sky on a giant iron bug. This isn’t real, I tried to say out loud but my voice failed me; this isn’t real, I repeated over and over again silently, until I felt something cover my mouth and nose, and I was hit by a blast of cold air. It smells like snow, I thought, breathing in deeply now as the oxygen flooded my lungs and rushed to my head. Every breath smells like snow.

 

Chapter Text

Our recent trip had done nothing to change my feelings on travel: I still didn’t enjoy it. Some places were too far to get to by car, and I didn’t like planes, let alone helicopters, especially after our return journey, when Taylor had started to hyperventilate mid-air. It had passed quickly, after the pilot told me how to release the oxygen mask and put it on my brother’s face. After a few gulps of oxygen, Taylor had relaxed and even joked, putting down the incident to a long day. I wasn’t convinced though: sure, we’d had a stressful day and nothing to eat since morning, but I wasn’t used to seeing Taylor like that, so once home, and despite my brother’s protests, I insisted that Jesse check him out. After taking my brother’s pulse and blood pressure, Jesse assured me that Taylor was in perfect health, and that what had happened earlier was probably a panic attack.

“That goes to prove that we shouldn’t be flying” I pointed out, only partly joking. “There’s a reason why we don’t have wings.” 

“There’s also reason why they offer you alcohol on planes.” Jesse shot back.

“Oh well, hopefully we won’t be getting on another plane for a while.” I was so glad to be home.

 We’d barely been back for 24 hours when the President called again: he wanted to visit the Compound in person, and he wanted us to go with him. 

—

Zac had been unshakeable: he said he’d never set foot on the Compound ever again, and that was the end of it. I wasn’t thrilled at the idea either, but didn’t think I could say no to the President, not now that we received a hefty deposit in our bank account every month. I was grateful for that, but I couldn’t help feeling as if there were invisible strings attached to our financial security.

“You’re overthinking it” Taylor said. “He just wants to see where we grew up. He’s trying to make up for when he wasn’t there for us. Besides, Richter said that if we go back, we can get our things from mom’s apartment.”

That thought cheered me up. Zac was keen to get back the easel I’d built for him as an eighteenth birthday present, and Taylor hoped to retrieve his journals. As for me, I’d left behind nothing particularly worth saving, other than the box of our childhood mementos our mother had started when we were born. She’d kept some of our baby clothes and a few photographs - none of which, however, included our father. When she moved out, I took over the task, collecting small things here and there - Zac’s doodles, poems that Taylor had scribbled on bits of paper and forgotten about, and my most proud childhood treasure: a tiny fish fossil, perfectly preserved in rock, all its bones still perfectly visible and begging to be counted and re-counted, just like I’d done on so many occasions as a boy.

It would be good hold those few things in our hands again. We’d left the Compound with only the clothes on our backs and had nothing to show for our life before the City, as if we had no history. Everything we owned now was new, and wasn’t much, anyway, easily fitting into a couple of bags. Maybe, without intending to, we were trying to keep any baggage down to a minimum, to be ready to take off in a rush.

I really hoped that we wouldn’t have to. I didn’t want to keep travelling; I wanted a home.

— —— — 

Less than a week later, Taylor and I were back at the Compound. I couldn’t help noticing that only few trailers were still stationed outside the front gates; the SWAT teams had gone and only a few members of the secret service remained, made instantly recognisable by their black suits and impassible stares. So much for secrecy. 

“You can wait for the President in the break room. I’ll be outside with Agent Nori. I haven’t seen him since we were trainees at Glynco.” Richter said. 

“Thanks, Max.” I said, grateful for the chance to be on my own with Taylor before the President arrived. We’d spent a lot of time with Richter since our initial meeting with the President, and although during these trips it was his job to be our shadow, he did try to give us some privacy whenever he could.

“It’s weird to be here again - especially without Zac.” Taylor said, pulling the ring open from a can of soda he had just helped himself to from the break room chiller. 

“Yeah. I keep thinking that we left him behind somewhere.”

“On the helicopter.”

“Yeah. Probably asleep somewhere. Nobody would ever notice.”

“It’s hard to believe that we went for three months without seeing him, and now it’s just been a few hours and it feels wrong.” 

“Do you think we’ll be home tonight?”

“I doubt it. They must have something else planned, otherwise why would Richter have told us to pack a bag?”

“That’s true. Although you know the President’s schedule can change at the last minute. Maybe they had to take into account delays.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Good thing that Jesse was able to change his shift at such short notice. I didn’t like the idea of Zac being home alone at night.” 

“I’m sure he would have been okay, though. Apart from maybe… he would have raided the fridge.”

“Yeah, can you imagine the state he’d leave the kitchen in, if we weren’t there?” 

“Broken eggs everywhere.” 

Zac’s last attempt at cooking for himself hadn’t ended well, and despite my very basic skills in the kitchen, I’d decided that whatever I could rustle up for lunch was still preferable to the bomb site that Zac had left behind in his efforts to be more independent. 

“Can you hear that?” Taylor said, lifting an index finger. I could: it was the roar of an engine, becoming louder as it got closer.  It could only mean one thing: the President’s helicopter was about to land.

—--  

“Isaac, Taylor. Thank you for agreeing to come back.” The President said as he greeted us with a handshake and a curt nod.

It’s all fine, I said to myself as I took a long, centering breath. It’s only the President of CANAAN, who happens to be your father. Yep. All under control.

 “Mr President, your vehicle is ready.” Richter said.

“Thank you, Richter. Let’s go, then.”  the President nodded, then followed Richter to the reinforced vehicle that waited with the engine running. We stood there for a couple of seconds, watching Richter as he held the car door open for our father. As he was getting inside the car, the President suddenly stopped and turned to look at us.

“Are you two planning to come along, or are you just going to stand there?”

---

I sat in the middle, between the President and my brother. As subtly as I could, I tried to move closer to Taylor; I didn’t know much about official protocol, but I felt incredibly awkward about sharing such a confined space with the President, and really didn’t fancy the thought of our knees accidentally touching.

“How’s Zac?” the President asked. 

I opened my mouth to answer then stopped myself. I glanced at Richter and Nori in the front seats, and then back at the President.

“It’s okay, you can talk here.” he said.

“Oh, right. He’s …Zac’s okay. I’m sorry he’s not here. We tried to talk him into it coming but he just wouldn’t.”

“I don’t blame him. It must have been really traumatic for him to be back here. But I’m glad you two could come. I want to see this place through your eyes before I’m having it razed to the ground.”

“Is that what you’re planning to do?” Taylor asked.

“What do you think I should do with this place, Taylor? Turn it into a theme park?” The President snapped. 

Taylor clamped his mouth shut.

“It could be called Cultland.” The President continued, almost to himself. “It would be almost funny if it wasn’t so sick.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I wasn’t completely sure of what a theme park was, but if the President wanted to flatten out the Compound forever, it was alright with me: I surely didn’t feel sentimental towards the place.

The car slowed as we neared the Assembly Hall and stopped, the engine still running.

“Where would you like to stop, Sir?” Richter asked, turning his head to the back seat.

The President turned to face Taylor and me.

“I want to see where you lived.” 

My stomach rolled. 

“The residential blocks are right at the back.” I said.

“Let’s go then.” 

As the car started to move again, I took a long, quiet breath, in the hope it would help ease the tightness in my guts. We’d been gone a long time, and I didn’t know how I’d feel seeing our old home again. I didn’t know what the President was hoping to see, either - all our belongings were gone, probably replaced by the new occupiers’ possessions: there’d be no sign that we’d ever lived there.  

As we approached the residential quarter, the President asked Nori to stop the car. 

“Let’s walk.” He’d barely finished his sentence when Richter opened the door for him.

I shifted toward the car door when I felt Taylor’s hand on my knee.

“Ike, are you okay?”

“As okay as I can be. You?”

“Same. Kind of regretting the whole thing now.”

The door by Taylor’s side suddenly opened and we took that our as cue to get out. 

The residential quarters occupied the entire northern end of the Compound, with several rows of three storey blocks, separated by dirt roads wide enough for service and supplies trucks to drive through. The residential blocks were anonymous-looking buildings, unimaginatively designed and all identical to one another. They all had the same number of windows and the same front doors, and were painted in the same shade of sun-reflecting, blinding white.

In the daytime, most Flock residents would have been occupied with work, or training, but a maintenance team or cleaning crew might still have been around. On an average day, you would have heard a truck’s engine, or the hurried steps of a resident rushing to an assignment. Now, all around us was complete silence. I looked up, squinting at the building in front of me, trying to remember who lived there. 

“After you,” the President said, making a sweeping motion with his hand.

“It’s the second on the left.” Taylor said, rushing in front of me.

“Did everybody live here?” the President asked.

“Not everybody. The officers and their families had quarters closer to the administration buildings.”

“So they didn’t have to rush around to get to places in the morning.” I added.

“Is that where your mother lived?”

“Correct. After marrying DuVall, she moved to the Officers’ housing. That’s when we had to move out too, into a smaller place.”

“So you were allowed to live by yourselves, without your mother?” 

“Yes - as long as one of us was over 18, which I was.” I explained.

“Some things are the same everywhere. Although my daughter -” the President paused, lowering his voice slightly. “My daughter, Marcia - since the inauguration, she has moved in with us at the Presidential House, for security reasons. It’s just easier that way. Obviously she has her own apartment.”

Obviously.

“That’s us.” Taylor said, interrupting my train of thought. Without having to think about it, I’d let my legs walk me down the familiar road, and we were now standing right in front of our old home.

“This one?” The President raised his eyebrows. 

“Yeah. Block 18, Apartment A.” Taylor said. “We lived on the first floor.”

“Well, let’s take a look then.” The President said.

“But…won’t it be locked?” I said.

“The police have checked all the residential dwellings.” Richter said. “In case some people were left behind. It’s open.” he said, gesturing at the door.

“We haven’t lived there for months though. It’s not really our place anymore, there’ll be another family’s stuff-” Taylor said hurriedly, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. 

“I just want to have a quick look inside, Taylor. It won’t take long.”

“Right. Well, sure.” Taylor inhaled deeply, visibly steeling himself before pressing his palm tentatively on the metal door, which in normal circumstances would have been locked. Now it swung open. My brother held the door open and the President stepped in, followed by the rest of us. Inside, the air was stuffy with days-old cooking smells, dust, and trapped heat. Every apartment’s front door had been left open, and I couldn’t help peering inside, instantly feeling guilty for violating the space of our old friends and neighbours.

As I climbed the stairs to the first floor, I became aware of my own speeding heartbeat, and by the time we’d stopped outside the front door of our old home, my heart was thumping in my chest and there was nothing I could do to stop it. This is stupid, I thought, taking a deep breath in. We haven’t lived here in months and all our stuff is gone, too. 

“Looks like it’s open.” Taylor said, pointing to the door which was had been left ajar. I could tell he was trying to gain time. 

“Excuse me.” I stepped in front of the President. “Tay, I’ll go in first.” I said, pushing the door open.

 Inside, the air was stifling. The windows were shut, but the curtains had been left open. 

“I’m sorry it’s so warm in here.” I said as I went to open the window. For a split second I’d forgotten that I no longer lived there and had nothing to apologise for. 

“They obviously followed the evacuation procedure. Close the windows, but leave the curtains open. I don’t know why we were told to do that.” Taylor said, stepping aside to let the President in while Richter and Nori waited at the threshold.

The President swept his gaze around the room, his furrowed brow barely concealing a mixture of surprise and disappointment as he surveyed the apartment: it was undeniably small, and looked even smaller now that we’d been away for so long. Our old home was only a studio apartment, with a kitchen area on one side and a living area on the other. There was a fold-out couch, where I used to sleep, and pushed against the wall on the opposite side was a double bed, which Taylor and Zac shared. The only other room was the bathroom. If the place looked tiny and cramped to me now, I could only imagine how pitifully small it must have looked to the President.

“I take it that the place where you lived with your mother was bigger than this?” The President asked. 

You might as well say ‘this is smaller than I thought’.

“Yeah, mom had her own bedroom and we shared the other one.” I said, omitting the detail about sharing one bed.

“Is that’s a fold-out couch?”

“Yeah. That’s where I slept.” I said.

The President nodded slowly, shifting his gaze to the double bed in the corner.

“I see.” he said, once he’d reached the inevitable conclusion.

I locked eyes momentarily with Taylor. We could only hope that the President would never learn of our current sleeping arrangements.

“Well, I’ve seen worse public housing than this, back when I was Governor.” 

“It’s not bad, we had everything we need…” Taylor said, apologetically. 

“It’s still better than the tent they gave us in the City!” I said, suddenly feeling defensive of our old home.

“Of course, of course.” the President nodded with a sympathetic smile. “Anyway, shall we move on to the next …item on the schedule.” The president patted me lightly on the shoulder as he headed for the door. 

“What did you want to see next?” Taylor asked, as he followed our father outside. 

The President stopped at the threshold and turned around, giving the apartment one last look, before his eyes landed on Taylor.

“Take me where they kept Zac.” 

—— —— —— 

I’d hoped the President wouldn’t ask that of us, not after our brother had been physically sick after stepping inside that awful place again. Clearly Taylor felt the same, as once we were back in the car he sat quietly, his hands tightened into fists, and I had to use all my self-control to stop myself from taking his hand into mine to comfort him. All I could offer was being there. If we had no choice but to visit our brother’s former prison, we would at least do it together. 

There was still something palpably menacing about the place, even now that it lay empty. The Detox Center stood for all that was wrong with the Church and the ruthless methods that the latter employed on their sickest, most vulnerable members, people like my brother, who should have been given medical treatment or counselling, not imprisonment.

Inside, as we walked down the long, empty corridor, I winced at the overpowering sickly, sweet smell that seemed to permeate every wall and surface of the building.

“No wonder Zac felt sick the other day.” I said under my breath.

“Wait until we get to the cell.” Taylor said. I’d momentarily forgotten that he’d seen the condition in which our brother had been left, and now a stone of dread lodged itself in my stomach at the prospect of having to see the place with my own eyes.

“According to the patients’ log book, it’s this ward.” Richter said, stopping in front of a set of double doors. Above, a sign read ‘Long Term Residents’.

“You could have just asked me, I’ve been here before.” Taylor snapped. “It’s the last room on the left. No. 11.” 

The fact that Taylor still remembered the room number didn’t surprise me. Prior to our escape, we’d gone through the details countless times, running through ever possible eventuality and hiccups, coming up with plans b, c and d. Thinking back on it now, I could hardly believe that we’d managed to pull it off - the Detox Center looked so secure even now that it was unstaffed. We could never have managed it without Layne. 

By the time we stopped outside the cell door, my heart was pummelling the inside of my chest. Just like at the residential blocks apartments, all rooms had been checked and all doors had been left open. It looked as if residents had just got up and walked out.

Richter pushed the door wide open and turned to look at the President. 

“Sir?”

The President hesitated and glanced at Taylor, as if expecting my brother to go in first. Taylor, however, had other ideas and instead, stared right back at our father, arms crossed. 

“Very well.” The President said, breaking the stalemate at last and stepping into the room. 

I took a step to follow him, when I felt Taylor’s hand land on my shoulder.

“You don’t have to see that, you know?”

“I might as well now that we’re here.” I said, following the President inside. 

“Woah.”

I brought my hand to my nose. Even if the door had been left open since the clearing of the Compound, the smell inside the cell was overwhelming. It was a combination of the sickly, sweet odour that permeated the rest of the building, and urine, sweat and worse. It could only come from one place - the dirty, stained mattress on the single metal framed bed that stood solitarily in the middle of the room. 

This is only a room, an empty room. It’s fine, it’s all fine, I told myself as my eyes fell on the leather restraints that hung loose from the sides of the bed. Of course, I knew he’d been tied up; I had imagined him in that room a million times, piecing together the details from what Taylor had told me. But this was worse than I thought, now that I was breathing in the same foul air that my brother had breathed then.

“Jesus Christ.” The President said, breaking the silence. “Richter?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do we know if there were other patients in this room after Zac?”

“According to the log book there weren’t, Sir.”

The President’s eyes narrowed. 

“Taylor, does it look the same as when you left it?” he said, turning to speak to my brother, who had been standing quietly behind us.

“Yeah. The bedding’s gone, but that’s…um, where he slept. I’m sure.” my brother said, his gaze stopping on the large, dark amber colour stain in the centre of mattress. Next to me, the President exhaled sharply through his nose. 

“Richter, take some photos of this?” he waved his hand vaguely at our surroundings.

“Why do you need photos?” I asked.

“Because,” the President said, “this is now a crime scene.”

——— 

 After the Detox Center, the President mood was different, sombre - and although we carried on with the rest of our visit as planned, it was clear to me that our father had been deeply affected by what he’d just seen.

Next, we visited the Training Centre, where all processing classes took place, and after that, the Children Block, where Zac used to work.  Inside, the President asked where all the toys and drawings were, and seemed to shock to hear that there weren’t any.

The education of small children was strangely neglected at the Flock: no early processing system had been devised to indoctrinate tiny humans from an early age. Classes were mixed-age, with the smallest children still in diapers. The primary purpose of early age schooling was simply to park children somewhere safe until they were old enough to be properly trained, acting as childcare while the parents were working or training. Any actual teaching was largely down to the ‘teachers’, who were left to improvise to keep children busy with practically no resources. Toys were discouraged, and drawing, although not expressly forbidden, was frowned upon. That, however, had never stopped Zac: he’d collect waste printed paper from the training centre and hand it out to the children so that they could draw on the clean side. Surrounded by innocent, inquisitive minds, our brother had been in his element, free from the rules and absurdities of life outside the classroom. He loved his job.

 “Sir, did you want to move on to the next location?” Richter said. “I’m afraid we’re running a little behind schedule.”

“Okay, let’s move along. Taylor, I’d like to see the place where you worked.”

“Ummm” my brother’s skin flushed. “The Officers Club House?”

“If that’s okay with you…?” the President said, his voice softening. “You could wait outside. Isaac can come in with me.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Taylor shook his head. “It’s only an empty building now.”

The President put his hand on Taylor’s back and patted him lightly. “That’s right. It’s just a bunch of ruins. And soon they’ll all be gone.” 

—

In my maintenance job, I’d been to the Club House a few times over the years, to fix whatever had needed fixing. I remembered being impressed, back then, by what looked to me as the height of luxury. 

Not anymore. Now that I could compare it to the Outside and what I saw on tv, the inside of the Club House seemed shabby and dated. The rugs covering the wooden flooring were worn out and faded, and the furniture looked old, the brown leather couches and armchairs beat up and covered in scratches. It was a sorry, sad imitation of something elegant and grand, and it didn’t fool me anymore.

“It looks as if they kept all the nice things to themselves.” The President said, surveying the room. He put his hands in his pockets as he headed for the selection of drinks behind the bar. I recognised some of the names on the bottles now - a couple of them sat on a shelf in Jesse’s living room too. Makers Mark, Buffalo Trace, Jameson.

“Lagavulin Distillers Edition…Laphroaig 20 Year Old Cask Strength… these people knew their Scotch.” Said the President, who had now turned his attention to the higher shelves.

“Yeah, they treated themselves well.” Taylor said.

“But liquor was banned everywhere else in the Compound, right?”

“Well, it was considered a mind-altering substance and that’s against the rules when you’re training. But Officers were no longer considered to be in training.” Taylor explained.

“Did you ever help yourself?” The President cracked a smile.

“Umm, well, no. But-”A pink flush rose from my brother’s neck and spread to his cheeks. “It’s just that, umm, sometimes officers offered me a drink and they’d expect me to take it. I mean, in private.” 

“Oh. I see.” The President said, the smile instantly fading from his face. “I see.” he said gravely, before turning his back to us and carefully putting the bottle back on the shelf. 

We followed Taylor into the other rooms making up the ground floor - the library, the games room and the dining hall, followed by the large kitchen where Zac had worked before Taylor had him transferred. After that, we took the stairs down to the lower ground floor to the apprentices’ dorm: it was one big room occupied by row upon row of bunk beds. Still on the lower ground floor was the officers’ gym - the purpose of its proximity to the boys’ sleeping quarters now sadly obvious.

 

After we returned to the main lounge, we stopped at the bottom of the large mahogany staircase that lead to the upper floors.

“Upstairs - that’s where the bedrooms are.” Taylor said, avoiding eye contact with the President.

“I see.”

“Did you wa-”

“No.” The President said curtly. “That won’t be necessary. I think I’ve seen enough.”

My brother’s face visibly relaxed, and I felt a wave of gratitude toward the President for sparing my brother the shame of climbing those stairs again; I’d known what went on ‘upstairs’ for a long time, and I didn’t need to see the actual bed where those officers had abused my brother.

“So, is there anything else you wanted to see?” Taylor asked once we were outside again. 

“No, I think I’m done. I’ve seen enough.”

“Sir, are you ready to go back to the helicopter?” Richter asked.

“Wait.” I said.

The President looked at me questioningly.  

“Mom, I mean, our mother said that she’d managed to save some our things from our apartment when we left.” I said.

I didn’t want to leave Compound without our things, especially if the President was planning to have the place demolished soon.

“Do we have time?” The President asked, looking at Richter and Nori in turn.

Both Taylor and I looked pleadingly at the agents. 

“We do Sir. I allowed half an hour extra to the schedule for any eventuality and delays.” Richter said.

“Oh I see. So we’re not technically running late.” The President said.

“Not yet, Mr President.”

“Good thing Richter knows me so well. Let’s go and get your stuff, then.” 

 

Agent Nori’s showed us to mom’s apartment and waited until we’d retrieved our belongings before rejoining his security detail outside the front gates. Next, it was time to say goodbye to our father again. 

“Say hello to Zac from me. Tell him I’ll be in touch soon.” the President, shaking our hands.

“Thank you. He’d like that.” I said, without thinking.

The President’s eye widened and a smile formed on his lips.

“Do you really think so?”

“He likes talking to you.” I said. “To him, it doesn’t matter if you’re the President of CANAAN.”

“It shouldn’t matter to you two, either.” The President said.

“It’s… hard to forget.” I said.

“It will get easier, with time. We’ll be seeing more of each other, you have my word. And then you’ll realise that I’m just a human being, like you.”

As I watched the helicopter lift up into the sky in a cloud of dust, I wondered if the President had meant what he’d said. I would have liked to share Zac’s enthusiasm, but the truth was that I couldn’t quite believe that Charlton McAllister, President of CANAAN, would make space in his life for us. I couldn’t see where we’d fit in the picture, a picture that was already cramped with his other family, and the enormity of being the world’s most powerful man. 

“Umm, Ike? The helicopter’s gone now, you know?” Taylor said, as I felt his hand fall on my shoulder. “You can’t bring it back with the power of your thoughts.”

“Who said I wanted to bring it back, anyway.” I shrugged. “I’d like to go home, though. Are you going to tell us what the plan is now?” I asked, turning to Richter.

“I’m sorry but you won’t be going home tonight. There’s another helicopter on its way in…” Richter looked at his watch. “7 minutes.”

“Where are you taking us?” I asked, too tired to protest.

“To a high security military penitentiary not far from here. They need to take your depositions and you’ll have to assist in an identification line-up.”

“What? Who do we need to identify?” Taylor said.

“And why can’t we give our deposition back at home?”

“One, the high ranking personnel from the bunker and two, because that’s not how it’s done.” Richter said.

“Great. So when are we going home?” Taylor said.

“Tomorrow.”

“I still don’t understand why we have to identify anyone?” I asked.

Richter hesitated.

“What? Come on, tell us!” I said.

“You won’t have to identify anyone.” Richter said. “Your brother will.”

‘But why?” Taylor said. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain everything to you———” Richter’s words were muted as a dot appeared in the sky, the noise growing louder as the shape grew bigger. “…LATER.” Richter shouted over the helicopter noise.

As we boarded the helicopter, and prepared to lift off, I looked outside at the gates of the Compound, certain now that this would really be our last time there. Our boxes, containing the few tangible mementos of our old lives, had been loaded onto the chopper: we were leaving nothing behind but sad memories. Soon, if President’s intentions were serious, it would all be gone. And I knew that that day I’d finally feel free.

——

 “Well, I’m glad today’s over.” I said, dropping our bags on the carpeted floor before collapsing backwards on the bed. “It’s been a long day.”

“Long and full of surprises.” Taylor said. There were dark circles around his eyes. 

“I know. I wish you wouldn’t have had to go through that.” 

“Sometimes I wish he just let it go.”

“Charlton McAllister isn’t someone who just lets things go.” I said.

“Doesn’t look like it, does it.” Taylor said, flatly.

As Richter had explained during the car journey to the military facility, the President had specifically requested that Taylor identify all the detained CoR officers, so that they could be connected to any abuse that took place at the Club House. “The President wants to cover all bases for a legal case.” he’d said when Taylor had objected. “And he wants to do it now, discreetly, away from the press.” As a result, while I waited outside, Taylor had to sit in front of a two-way mirror, identifying every officer and confirming if he’d had any intimate contact with them. He’d emerged a couple of hours later looking pale and exhausted.  Later, as we dined at a roadside restaurant near the motel, my brother had barely picked at his food but had downed three bottled beers. I hadn’t said anything - he had every reason to feel that way, especially knowing that we’d still have to go over it again the next day for our deposition, which was set to take place in the morning

“Just think that this time tomorrow we’ll be home. And then I’m not getting on any form of transport that flies, for a very long time.”

“Nor me. Is it okay if I grab a shower first? I can’t get rid of that smell from… you know.” 

“Sure. I’ll do the same when you’re done. Then we can call Zac and say good night.” I said, taking off my shoes before lying on the king size bed. By the time we had checked in at the motel, they’d run out of double rooms and as the reservations clerk offered a half-hearted apology, I thought I’d caught a glimpse of something in Richter’s face - only for a split second though, before his usually impassible expression had returned.  

While my brother turned on the water in the shower, I allowed myself to close my eyes. I opened them again when something wet landed on my skin: it was coming from Taylor, who stood by the bed, wrapped in a towel, water dripping from his hair as a cloud of steam advanced behind him from the bathroom’s open door. 

“Awww. You fell asleep.” 

“And you’re dripping water all over me.”

“Just trying to help you making the transition between the bed and the shower.”

“I’m so grateful for that.” I said, sitting up. Suddenly I was so tired that I couldn’t even face taking a couple of steps and dragging myself to the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating my options. 

“Come on Ike, go and have a shower. We need to phone Zac and then ideally I’d like to get some sleep.” Taylor said.

I sighed and got up on my feet. One last hurdle.

-- --  

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.” Zac’s voice carried a hint of laughter on the speakerphone.

“As if we’d ever do that.” Taylor said wearily as he held the phone in front of us.

“I was only joking.” our brother said.

“I know, it’s just…been a really long day. How have you been?”

“I’m fine, but why are you still there? What else do you have to do?”

“The President wanted us to help the police.” I cut in, sensing that Taylor was too exhausted to answer Zac’s questions. I gave our brother a brief, edited account of what had happened, promising to tell him everything in more detail once we’d got home. Once we’d finished talking, and said good night multiple times, Taylor asked him to hand over the phone to Jesse.

“I hope he’s not keeping you up playing guitar all night?” Taylor said.

“I think that was his plan but…he’s started yawning about ten minutes ago so…I think we’re both ready to crash.” 

“Jesse…” I said into the phone, lowering my voice in case my younger brother was still within earshot. “You know he doesn’t like to be on his own…”

“I know, but he’s not a child, Ike. You’ve got stop treating him like one. He’s going to be absolutely fine.”

“Right…” 

“But can you at least leave your bedroom door open?” Taylor asked. 

I heard Jesse exhale on the other end.

“Just for tonight.” Taylor insisted. “Please.”

“All right. Just for tonight.” Jesse relented. 

“Thank you. We’ll have our phone on, if you need to get in touch. At any time. We’ll still hear it.” Taylor said.

“Tay?” Jesse said.

“What?”

“Goodnight.”  

—

I’d been asleep for a while when suddenly I became aware of something warm pressing itself onto me. As I slowly woke up, I realised what was happening: Taylor had wrapped his legs and arms around me, while his face was burrowed deeply inside my neck. But it took me another couple of seconds to gather that it wasn’t the warmth from my brother’s body that had woken me up, but rather the fact that he was clearly grinding against me.

My eyes flew open. 

“Tay? What are you doing?” I whispered, half-hoping that my brother was in fact asleep. Maybe he’s dreaming of Zac.

“I was hoping you’d wake up.” My brother’s husky voice said in my ears.

That was not the reply I was hoping for.

“Tay, seriously-” I said, choking on my own words.

“I can’t sleep, Ike. Been lying here for ages, wide awake. I need to sleep.” He said in a whiney voice.

“Then sleep.” I said. I was still frozen in place, trapped between brother’s limbs.

“Well, that’s the thing, I can’t.” He said as he slid his hand under my t-shirt, startling me.

“Tay, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he said, pressing himself against me even more, leaving no doubt as to what his intentions were. “You know it’s the only thing that helps me sleep.”

“Umm, you don’t need me for that. Just…you know…go take a shower or something.” I said, hoping that he’d get the hint.

“Why? You’re here.” He said, removing his hand from under my shirt. But before I could breathe a sigh of relief, his fingers had lifted the elastic band of my underwear and his hand was travelling downwards.

Before allowing myself a chance to react to his touch, I jumped up and grabbed his hand, pushing him off me. “Tay, stop it! This isn’t right, okay?” I said, facing him now. 

A sliver of light from the street lights outside filtered through the curtains, allow me to make out the disappointment in my brother’s face.

“Why?” he said.

“Because…do you really need to ask? I’m not…Zac.”

“Yeah but we’ve said before that we might…you know? That’s what Zac wants anyway.”

“We’ve said many things to keep him happy.”

“But we didn’t just say that to him, Ike - and we’ve done things since, don’t pretend that we haven’t.”

“That’s different.” I acknowledged. Yes, it was true that Taylor and I had been a bit closer lately - we’d kissed and held each other in the presence of Zac, to make him happy. But it was just kissing, caressing - we’d never made love. Our cuddling had only just been the prelude to something else, before Taylor or I took Zac into our arms; it was just something we did because that’s what Zac wanted, because he didn’t want either of us to feel excluded. Now I was in bed with Taylor - only Taylor - and it was a totally different story.

“How is it different? It’s still me.” Taylor took my wrist and placed my hand on his chest. “It’s still me, Ike.” he said softly. I’d heard him use that pleading voice before with Zac, and it never failed to get results and shake our brother out of even the deepest slumber.

“I know but…” I tried to move my hand but Taylor was holding it firmly in place. I curled my fingers into a half-formed fist, trying to limit the contact between my hand and my brother. Even if there was a layer fabric in between us, I could feel the warmth of his skin on my fingertips, separated by the soft layer of hairs that covered his chest.

“But what? Why don’t you want me?” Taylor’s voice was serious now.

“Tay, don’t be like that now.” 

“No, I want you to tell me why you won’t even let me touch you now, when you’re perfectly happy to put on a show when Zac’s there.”

“I don’t put on a show for anyone. I love you, you’re my brother and it’s just…that - but that where it usually stops.”

“Yeah but it doesn’t have to be that way. It doesn’t have to stop there. Aren’t you at least a bit curious of how it could be like?” My brother said, inching closer to me. 

“I haven’t really thought about it.” It was the truth - I didn’t think I’d ever find myself in the situation of having to deal with Taylor’s sexual advances, of us sharing a bed without Zac. Zac not being there made all the difference: it felt all wrong without him and I didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Well, I have.” Taylor said, sheepishly. “I’ve seen the way you’re with Zac when you’re together, you know. Of course I’m going to wonder what it’d be like to be in his place. It kinda hurts to think that it’s not the same for you, to be honest.”

Even in the semi-darkness I could see the rejection in my brother’s eyes as he let go of my wrist, freeing my hand from his grip. 

“Tay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay. Let’s get some sleep.” he said, rolling over to one side, turning his back to me.

“No, it’s not okay if I’ve upset you.” I insisted, propping myself up on my elbow. “I can’t just go back to sleep now.” 

The cellphone screen lit up with a buzz on the nightstand by Taylor’s side. 

“Fuck.”

Before I could even move, Taylor had reached for it. 

“It’s Jesse.” he said, sitting up.

“What does he say?” I sat up next to Taylor. A text at that time of the night could only be bad news.

My brother stared at the screen for a moment, then laughed as he handed me the phone.

I looked at the screen, which appeared to show a photo of Jesse’s bed. It took me a few seconds to realise that the cocoon-like shape under the duvet was in fact our brother, fast asleep.

“I woke up and found him there. Don’t have the heart to wake him up.”

“I can’t believe he did that.” I said, half-laughing, half-horrified at the thought that Zac had just decided to invite himself into Jesse’s bed.

“I can, actually.” Taylor said, typing a reply.

“I told you he doesn’t like to sleep on his own. Please don’t kick him out, I’ll cook every day next week”

“You cook every day anyway” Jesse texted back. A second later, another message flashed on the screen.

“Don’t worry, he can sleep here. See you tomorrow.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t snore.” I said as Taylor put the phone back on the nightstand. When Zac snored, nobody got any sleep.

“If he does, I’m sure Jesse won’t let him live it down ever again” Taylor said, pulling the covers over him. 

I settled myself next to my brother, careful not to touch him. I didn’t know if our earlier disagreement still lingered, and I didn’t want to go to sleep on an argument.

“Tay, are we good?” I said after a while, putting my hand on his shoulder. 

“Of course we are. Good night, Ike.”

I closed my eyes and listened out to Taylor’s breathing, waiting to hear him settle into a steady rhythm. I wouldn’t allow myself to go to sleep until he did. Not that there’d be any risk of that now - I was wide awake. After a few minutes I felt restless and unsettled in the unfamiliar room. Taylor was perfectly still. He was too quiet to be asleep. 

I closed the little space that was left between us, and put my arm over him. A moment later, I felt Taylor’s hand over mine. I let out a sigh of relief - he wasn’t mad at me. I tightened my arm around him, pulling him closer to me.

I heard my brother take a couple of sharp breaths in  - as if he wanted to ask me something but couldn’t quite find the words. I waited.

“Ike?” he said eventually. “What happened earlier-”

“I’m really sorry, I-”

He rolled on to his other side to face me.

“No, listen. Just be honest with me. Is it because of what I’ve done in the past?”

“What?”

“Is it because I’ve been with a lot of men? Be honest.” 

I stared at my brother in disbelief. 

“Is that what you think?” 

“I don’t know what to think. I just know that most men I’ve come across have wanted to fuck me, and the only two I actually want other than Zac won’t touch me. You, and Jesse.”

“You want me?” I asked in disbelief, ignoring for a moment any mention of Jesse.

Taylor let out an exasperated laugh.

“Ike, have you already forgotten what happened half an hour ago?”

“No, but I thought…you know. You just needed…to…umm, and I was there.” 

I didn’t think that Taylor could ever want me, not unless he was driven by desperation, or, like in tonight’s case, insomnia.

“Ike…you’re just so…dense sometimes. Things are staring at you right in the face and you still don’t see them.” he said.

“Maybe.” 

“Definitely.”  

I looked down on my brother’s face, running my fingers through his hair. It the semi-darkness I could make out his smile, teasing me. Only hours earlier we’d walked into the place that had caused him so much shame, a shame that he still carried like a burden to this day. How could you think it made a difference to me, I thought as I leaned down and brushed his lips with mine. I felt his mouth open in surprise, and took that as a sign to kiss him again, not forcefully, but letting him know that I was sure of what I was doing, that there would be more. The moment Taylor had said he wanted me, I’d found myself wanting him too. Maybe this was what was always meant to happen, Taylor and Zac, Zac and me, and now me and Taylor; maybe we were really meant to share everything between us.

I broke away from our kiss for a moment to catch my breath, and to help my brother out of his t-shirt. I watched him while he kicked off his underwear, then did the same. My brother’s back had barely touched the mattress again when I was already on top of him, running my hands all over his body. He felt so different from our younger brother; despite the soft patches of hair that covered his chest, all the way up to his neck, Taylor’s body felt delicate under my fingertips, almost fragile. When we made love, Zac would usually work himself up to a frenzy, demanding control from me, something that I was only too happy to offer. Zac was unaware of his own strength, and I’d have to work hard to tame him, so that we could eventually settle into a rhythm and find a pace that suited us both. 

But right from the start Taylor matched my every movement, his long, supple limbs effortlessly bending into place at my guidance while I took my time to explore every inch of him. Not without a pang of shame, I remembered that what we were doing now had been my brother’s job for years, during which he’d learned how to please, and he was very, very good at it, turning me on a little more with everything he did - like the way he stretched his arms above his head and arched his back, his hoarse, raspy moans that turned into submissive whimpers, how he’d say my name over and over, as if I was the only person he’d ever wanted. I was glad to abandon myself to the illusion: it felt too good to resist. Please, my brother kept saying, please, and right there and then I was ready to give him anything I had, as I made love to him with every single fibre in my body. Then, just when I knew that I couldn’t last much longer, I froze: what if he wasn’t ready - what if I couldn’t satisfy my brother the way he deserved? What if I was just taking advantage of him for my own pleasure, like countless men had already done? Luckily, it took only a moment for Taylor to read me, like he always did, and in the semi-darkness I saw his lips curl into the most beautiful, loving smile as he reached for the small of my back and pushed me right inside of him again, coaxing me back into the heightened state of only moments earlier. It only took a couple of words from him - please, Ike, I’m so close, Ike - to end my doubts:  that’s when I finally found the abandonment I was desperate for, right there in my brother’s arms, and as our bodies shook together, I clung on to him as tightly as I could, dizzy with pleasure and disbelief. When I finally collapsed back on the mattress, panting and drenched in sweat, I thought this is it now - we know everything there is to know about each other. 

We’d been lying there in the silence, waiting for our respective breaths to go back to normal and finally free to give in to sleep, when Taylor’s voice pierced the soft, drowsy darkness I’d begun slipping into.

“Ike?”

“Hmm?”

“Zac will love to hear about this.”

“Yeah.” I said, as my mind began to drift again. “It’s all about Zac in the end.”

“Always about Zac.”

 

Chapter Text

Something felt distinctly odd when I woke up that morning. This is not my bed, I realised after a few long, unsettling seconds. And no Ike or Taylor. Uh-oh, I thought as it all came back to me. Gingerly, I extended out my hand, palming the space next to me. No one there.

Crap. Jesse had probably woken up and leapt out of bed out when he'd found me next to him.

Me and my stupid ideas.

I’d tried to sleep, tried and tried for what had felt like hours, tossing and turning, unnerved by all the space I had to myself. The bed was too big and the the room was too quiet without my brothers and the steady, reassuring sound of their breathing. Wide awake and stupidly alert, an irrational worry had come over me - worry that the plane carrying my brothers might crash, that the CoR would stage a retaliation attack on our father and his security staff, with my brothers getting caught in the crossfire. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I reasoned that Jesse wouldn’t mind if I slept in his bed for one night. It was only a few hours, after all.

What was I thinking?, I thought as I contemplated my next move. The house was quiet - Jesse was probably asleep on the couch, or at work. Either way, I knew I had to face him at some point and apologise. Now or never, I resolved. As I stuck my feet out of the covers, I shuddered at the cold. Why is it always so cold? It never seemed to get warm in the City and I still wasn’t used to it. Quickly, I retracted my feet right back under the quilt. Just another couple of minutes, I thought - while I come up with something to say to Jesse.  I closed my eyes. Only another couple of minutes.

The front door closing woke me up. Shit. I’d dozed off again. I sat up and listened out for more familiar sounds - footsteps, a bunch of keys being put down on the table.

“Zac?” Jesse called out from the kitchen.

Uh-oh. I thought of quietly sneaking back to my room, but it was too late - I could hear Jesse’s footsteps getting closer.

“Still in bed?” He asked as he walked into the room. “Must have been comfortable.”

“Look, I’m sorry! I wasn’t-”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay…you gave me a bit of a fright though.” Jesse sounded amused as he sat down on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight.

“I should have asked first…”

“What makes you think I’d have said yes?” Jesse said in that tone he used sometimes that sounded serious, but wasn’t.

“Ummm.” I hung my head, sheepishly.

“I’m only kidding.” he said, ruffling my hair. “Anyway, I’ve just been out to buy some eggs to make some breakfast. I don’t want your brothers to come back and accuse me of starving you.”

“When are they coming back?”

“Richter told them they’ll be home by eighteen-hundred this evening. He was very precise about it, apparently.”

“Right. And what about you - don’t you have work today?” I asked, as casually as I could.

“No work today. You’re stuck with me.”

“Okay.” I felt myself relax.

“I’m going to get breakfast started. Can you get yourself ready or do you need any help?” Jesse said as he got up.

“I can manage.”

“Good.” he said, taking a few steps toward the door.

“Jesse?”

“I am sorry.”

“About what?”

“This…” I waved my hand at the bed. “And if you had to take a day off to stay with me. I’m …I should …I shouldn’t need people around all the time. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”

“Zac.”

He sat back on the bed.

“You’re not pathetic. You’ve been through some really awful stuff.”

“I know but-”

“You will get better. With time.”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“Well, I am. You’re a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for, Zac. Okay?”

“Okay.” I said, unable to suppress a smile. Nobody had ever said I was tough before.

 

———

“Jesse….”

I’d just put the fork down, having satisfied myself that there really was no food left on my plate.

“Why do I have a feeling you want something…”

“How do you know?”

“It’s that voice you use with your brothers. Iiiikeee? Taay? It’s when you’re after something.”

“I’m that obvious, uh?” I said, making a mental note to be more subtle in the future.

“You’re like an open book. Anyway, what is it?”

“I was wondering if we could go out for a walk?”

“Sure, where do you want to go?” he said after a couple of seconds.

“Anywhere. Around the block, maybe we could go to that park where we - where I go with Ike and Taylor. I don’t mind, wherever. I just want to walk.”

— —

 

I’d never left the house without my brothers, and as much as I felt comfortable with Jesse, he still wasn’t one of them. I’d never let him guide me for more than a few steps - it had never been necessary as I’d always had one of my brothers’ arms to hold on to. This would be different. Holding on to Jesse’s arm, I counted the front steps that lead down to the sidewalk. As we made our way toward the park, I could only imagine how awkward we must have looked, Jesse trying to match my pace while I kept changing my grip around his arm, trying to find the best spot to hold on to.

By now my brothers had gotten used to walking slowly for me while still keeping a steady pace; they steered me toward one side or the other so subtly that I didn’t have to think too much about where I was going, nor worry about tripping over. Now, I could sense Jesse’s hesitation and the extra effort he was putting into every single step. He was being overtly cautious - just like my brothers had been really early on.

“It’s okay, you know, I’m not suddenly going to fall flat on my face. I’m used to this by now. You’ll get a cramp in your arm if you don’t relax a little.” I said after a while.

“Sorry, is it that obvious? I just don’t know how to do this.”

“As long as you don’t push me in front of a moving car, you’re doing fine.”

“All right. Let’s see if I can get you to the park in one piece.” he said, as his arm relaxed under my fingers.

It took longer to get to the park than it usually did when I went out with my brothers, and because this time I’d had to concentrate on what I was doing, that same walk I’d taken countless times had felt different from previous ones. It wasn’t just a stroll to the park - it was a step out of my comfort zone, and exactly the right thing to do.

 

“Can I have my arm back for a second? I need to get to my keys” Jesse asked once we were back at our front door. I let go of his arm and followed him into the apartment, making my way across the living room without giving it a second thought. At home, I knew where everything was and didn’t need much help. Outside, it was a different story, though.

“So, did I pass the test?” Jesse asked.

“Ummm…you were ok, I guess…”

“Gee, thanks a bunch…don’t worry about my feelings!”

“It’s just that you can’t compete with Isaac.” I said.

“Is Isaac the best human guiding aid then? What about Taylor? What’s he like?”

“Taylor tends to walk too fast. He tries to slow down when I’m with him and then forgets and I feel like he’s dragging me along.”

“I see.”

“Isaac walks just right.” I said, as I hoisted myself up on one of the kitchen stools.

“Right. I must remember for future reference. Be more like Isaac.”

“I think you should stick to being a doctor. ”

“Hey!” Jesse slapped me lightly on the head. “Don’t get lippy now.”

“Sorry. You weren’t all that bad, really.” I said. “Thank you for going with me, though. I mean, I do appreciate it. I know you probably had better things to do.” I added in a serious tone, worried that I’d come across ungrateful.

“If by ‘better things’ you mean reading a really tedious paper on triage management…I’d rather go for a walk with you. Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Sure” I said, although, without waiting for my answer, Jesse had already turned the faucet to fill the kettle. I sat there quietly while we waited for the water to boil, while Jesse tapped on his phone - something he did almost constantly when he wasn’t doing something else - as if he needed to keep his hands busy.

“Jesse…” I said after a while, breaking the silence.

“Huh?”

“I should learn how to go out on my own soon. I can’t just stay locked inside if nobody is around to go with me.” I said.

“Okay…?”

“Well,” I continued. “I thought maybe going out with you was a step in that direction. As I’d never been out with anyone other than Isaac and Taylor.”

“Definitely. That was progress.” Jesse said, getting up to turn off the heat under the kettle, which had just in that moment began to whistle.

I waited until he’d poured the hot water in the cups, listening to the clinking of a teaspoon first in one cup, then the other.

“There.” Jesse said, placing the cup in front of me. I inhaled the chocolate-scented steam, wincing as the heat hit my nostrils.

The tapping on the phone resumed.

“I was wondering maybe-” I paused, suddenly aware of my speeding heartbeat. I have to say it out loud, I said to myself. “I was thinking that maybe it’s time I learned to walk with a cane? You know, if someone showed me how to do it? Do you think you could find out how it’s done?”

Jesse put his phone down.

“Of course I can. That’s…really good that you feel ready to do that.”

I put my hands around the hot mug, lifting my fingers when I could no longer stand the heat.

“It’s not just the walking….I thought maybe I could talk to those people from those organisations - the ones you got the leaflets for?”

“Sure. If you’re up to it, why not.”

“As long as they don’t tell me to get a dog.”

“You really don’t like dogs, do you?”

“No.” I said, waiting for the inevitable question to follow.

“So what happened? Did you get bitten or something?”

“Nope…”

“So…?”

I sighed. There was no way of avoiding it now. Oh well, I thought. He’s already found me asleep in his bed. Things can’t get much worse than that.

“Nothing happened. I mean, I didn’t get bitten.”

“Oh…” I could swear that Jesse sounded disappointed.

“When we were kids there used to be guard dogs at the Compound. They got rid of them eventually, I guess because nobody ever tried to escape. But back then they guarded all the main gates. Anyway, we were playing, one day - it must have been summer because I remember it was too hot to be inside. I was like… five or six, I think. It was right at the back of the residential blocks - there’s a big dirt patch between the houses and the outer wall. Anyway, we were just walking, following the wall. We were beating the ground with sticks, to scare the vipers off. I’m not scared of snakes.” I pointed out.

“I am. I’ve had a few scary encounters back home. Anyway, carry on.” 

“We usually turned around before getting to the main gate but for some reason, that day we kept going. The rest happened really quickly - you know those big dogs that look like wolves? Insertians?”

“Alsatians.” Jesse corrected me.

“Yeah, those ones. They started to bark like crazy, then they jumped at me and I honestly thought I was going to be mauled to death.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, well, then just as they were nearly at my throat, a security guard blew a whistle and they backed off.”

“Thank God for that!”

“Umm, yeah, so that’s when we realised that they dogs were actually chained. The chains were very long though….”

“Right.”

“But still, it scared the shit out of me, and I started crying and um, I might have actually wet myself too. Taylor said I did. Anyway, I’ve hated dogs ever since.”

“Well…I’m not surprised. If a pack of Alsatians jumps up at a little kid-”

“Well, that’s the thing, it wasn’t quite a pack - there were only two of them. And only one jumped at me.”

“Okay, well, it’s still pretty scary…”

“It was terrifying. All I can remember is this…this thing, it got on its hind legs and it was taller than me.”

“You were only a kid.”

“Yeah.”

I took a sip of my hot chocolate. I felt better now that I’d confessed my big secret, and I was relieved that Jesse hadn’t laughed at me.

“Zac, I’m just going to say this and I don’t mean to make you feel under any sort of pressure -” Jesse said after a pause.

I tensed.

“You were right to be scared. You were a five, six year old boy, you were small. But you’re not small anymore. You’re a grown man now, and you’re strong, and if a dog jumps up at you, you just kick it until it backs off.”

“I know it’s stupid to still be afraid of them.”

“No, it’s not. I’m just saying that you’re not a little kid who can’t defend himself anymore - you’re bigger than any dog now. You can kick any dog’s arse now.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t come across that many dogs since then.”

“Well, trust me, they’re smaller than you.”

“I still don’t like them.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to like them.”

“Right.”

“Zac?”

I sighed. Enough with the dogs, please.

“I know you’ve been through shit that I can’t even imagine. But even if you’re blind, you can still defend yourself, you know? You’re built like a brick shithouse.”

“A what?”

“I mean you’re …pretty solid, mate. You’ve packed on some serious muscle since I’ve met you, and that’s without even trying. Most people would have to lift weights to look like that. What I’m saying is, if someone hits you, you just hit them back, alright? You make a fist and then you punch them right in the stomach. Your hand’s the size of a fucking spade. You can hurt people with those hands - you can cause serious damage.”

I sat quietly for a moment, considering what Jesse had just said. I opened out my left hand and tightened it into a fist. Then I felt self-conscious and relaxed it again.

“What did you say that I’m built like, again?”

“A brick shithouse. I guess it’s an Australian expression-”

“A brick shithouse…”

 

— —

 

I’d been been practising a song when I heard a car pull up outside. I put the guitar down and waited, counting the number of times door slammed, noticing the trunk being popped open and then shut again.

“They’re back.” I announced, getting up.

“How do you know it’s them? I swear, you’re like a dog sometimes.” Jesse said.

“It’s the Oblivion - it sounds different from other cars.” I said, opening the front door. I hesitated for a moment, then I placed the palm of my hand on the wall, and, using it as a guide I made my way to the end of the hallway, stopping right at the entrance door just as I heard the sound of my brothers’ feet climbing the steps to the house. I palmed the smooth, varnished wood, and as I heard the jangling of keys on the other side of the door, I pressed the metal latch down.

“You’re back.” I greeted my brothers. “I hope you’ve got my easel.”

— —

 

“I can’t believe mom managed to save our clothes.” I said, scrunching the fabric of my favourite shirt between my hands. Among the things my brothers had brought home was a large sack containing our clothes - all of our clothes, and that included the black and yellow check flannel shirt that Taylor had bought me years before. It was paper thin at the elbows, and a thick ridge of stitching - which Taylor had patiently sewn - could be felt under the armpits, where the seams had come loose several times over the years, as I insisted in wearing the shirt over my growing shape. 

 

“There’s also the folder with all your drawings and paintings…she managed to salvage all the important stuff.” Isaac said.

“So it was worth the trip, at least.” I said. “Is it all over with now at least? Now that you’ve done the depositions and stuff.”

Taylor sighed.

“It is over now, right?” I asked.

“Not quite, Zac.”

—

That evening, over dinner, a feeling of despair fell over me as I listened to my brothers talk about the forthcoming trial.

“Why can’t they just put those guys in prison and leave us alone?” I asked, dropping the cutlery back on my plate with a loud clang.

“Zac…” Isaac began.

“That’s not how it works.” Jesse said. “Otherwise anyone could just say whatever hell they want about anyone. People need to be given a chance to defend themselves, regardless.”

“I know, I’m not stupid. But I’m tired. I’m tired of having our old lives coming back to haunt us. I’m tired of having to explain myself over and over. I just want to put all of this behind me.”

“So do I, trust me.” Taylor said.

“I’ll be over soon.” Isaac said.

“Soon. How soon? How long does a trial last?” I insisted.

I sensed that looks were being exchanged around the table - glances that I couldn’t see.

“It won’t take too long.” Isaac finally said. “Try not to worry too much now, okay? We’ve got our stuff back, you’ve got your easel. It’s all going to be fine.”

 

But I was worried, and it wasn’t just about the trial. Something else had been gnawing at me for a while: what if the relationship between us three became public through the trial? What if our father found out?

Since I’d met the President, we’d spoken frequently, and I couldn’t help feeling that we were becoming closer - that he and I had a special bond. He sounded different with me: he was more relaxed and joked often. He’d tell me about his day, and I’d tell him about mine. He seemed to have a lot of faith in me - he’d told me more than once that one day I’d do something with myself. And although I had no idea of what that could possibly be, I didn’t want to let him down. I dreaded to think of how he’d react if he found out about how the three of us lived. Jesse had reacted with shock, and Jesse wasn’t even related to us. How would Charlton McAllister, President of CANAAN, react to the news that his sons were also lovers?

On a practical level, I worried that he’d cut all ties with us and stop the money he was giving us every month. Even if we didn’t spend much, I knew that having an income had taken a lot of weight off my brothers’ shoulders, and it was good to know that we were no longer having to rely on Jesse for absolutely everything.

I could only hope that our father would never find out - and if he did find out one day, maybe by then we’d grown close enough that he might not want to give us up.

I often thought about us as family; I imagined what it would be like to be invited to the Presidential House, to sit around the dinner table together. More than anything else, I longed to meet Marcia, and had all these things I wanted to say to her, all these conversations rehearsed over and over in my head. Would we ever get a chance to meet our sister? Our father had never mentioned the subject. I made excuses for him: it was too soon, he didn’t know us well enough, he couldn’t fully trust us. But I hoped that one day he’d tell his family about us. I didn’t want to be our father’s scandalous secret forever. We, too, were his family.

— —

“So, I heard that you ended up in bed with Jesse last night.” Taylor said after turning the bedside light off.

“He told you…”

“He sent us a picture.” Isaac said.

“You looked so comfortable.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s a good thing Jesse saw the funny side of it.” Isaac said.

“As I said, I couldn’t sleep”. I gave the quilt a firm tug and pulled it all the way up to my chin. Now that order had been restored and all three of us were together in bed, I didn’t care about anything else.

I closed my eyes and within seconds I felt myself drift. I could hear my brothers talking to each other, but their voices sounded muffled distant.

Then I heard Taylor call my name, and suddenly I felt as if I’d been pulled from underwater.

“Zac. ZAC. There’s something you need to know.”

 

— — —

 

The next morning, I woke up in a really good mood.

What had happened between Isaac and Taylor was exactly what I’d been hoping for. I wanted my brothers to get closer, to share between each other the kind of closeness that they shared with me. And now we were a perfect circle, a self-contained entity: we didn’t need anybody else.

Yes, I was willing to accept that at some point Taylor would act on his feelings for Jesse. I believed it was inevitable, and I certainly couldn’t stop it - besides, I didn’t want to look like a whiney, jealous brat. In any case, if there had to be someone else, an Outsider, then there couldn’t be a better person than Jesse anyway. He wouldn’t hurt Taylor, and he knew better than to try and take him away from me and Isaac. But deep down, even Jesse didn’t stand a chance. What my brothers and I had went beyond anything he could possibly offer Taylor, and now that the last link on the chain had been closed, it was only a matter of time before Taylor would realise that too.

 

My good mood was not to last. Later in the afternoon Richter called to tell us that we had all been called to give depositions again - even if Taylor had just done so. Apparently his deposition had focused around the Club House and now all three of us were required to talk to the police about our life at the Compound; the President, Richter had said, wanted us to ‘co-operate’ as much as possible so that the CoR could finally be obliterated from existence.

“So does it mean we’re going to have to spend the next few weeks in a police station?” I asked Taylor once he’d hung up the phone. The idea was far from appealing, and I’d been hoping to get started with my other plans; now that I’d made the decision to learn to be more independent, I didn’t need new obstacles in my way.

“We won’t have to go anywhere. Richter said that they’ll send the detectives here, and we’ll have an attorney present, appointed by the President.” Taylor said.

“Nice to know all are equal before the law. ” Jesse said.

“What do you mean?” Isaac asked.

“I mean that anybody else would have to trek it down to a police station and have to sit on a really uncomfortable chair for hours, but if you’re related to Charlton McAllister, you can do that in the comfort of your own home. Very nice.”

“I think he just wants to keep us out of the news.” I said.

“Not only us three. Richter said that when the trial starts, nobody will have to give evidence in public. The trial will happen via a video link and they won’t even mentioned our full names, or anybody else’s.” Taylor said.

“I guess that makes sense. It would be very hard for people who just got out to try and rebuild their lives otherwise. Once the media get hold of your identity, that’s it - you’ll always be ‘the former cult member’.” Jesse said.

“Nobody knows us though.” Isaac said.

“Nobody knows us yet.” I said, as a thought crept up in my head. “What if someone finds out that we’re related to the President?”

“But nobody knows, apart from …a few people from his inner circle.” Taylor said.

“DuVall’s out of the picture.” Isaac said.

“There’s still Frobisher. He was in the bunker too.” I said.

“What happened to him?” Jesse asked.

“He was arrested with the others.” Isaac said.

“Think about it -” I continued. “Frobisher is the leader of the CoR. Don’t you think DuVall would have told him a long time ago that the Presidential candidate used to be our mom’s boyfriend? And that he’s the father of her sons? And remember, when we were at the Satellite Center he said that our father was a ‘Known Enemy’. If he knew it, Frobisher must have known.” It all seemed so obvious now that I felt a pang of annoyance at myself for not having thought of it sooner. If I was right, Frobisher could destroy the President.

“Are we absolutely sure that he was arrested too? I didn’t have to identify him yesterday. Why wouldn’t he have been included in the line-up?” Taylor asked.

“Did you…did he…” Jesse said.

“No! He never…I don’t think that was his thing. I had to identify all the others - at least all the ‘regulars’ anyway.”

“Maybe he’s getting special treatment.” I said. “If he has something on the President, then he can probably call the shots.”

“You know, I doubt Charlton McAllister would have taken such risks if he’d thought that by storming the Compound he would have exposed his big secret. He obviously knows what he’s doing. You really should stop worrying or you’ll drive yourself crazy. And you’ll drive me crazy in the process.” Jesse said.

“I guess you’re right. We have enough to worry about.” Isaac said.

“Who knows what Frobisher knows anyway.” Taylor said.

“One person does.” I said. “Mom.”

 

—— ——

 

Getting my own way was something I was used to, and when I rang our father’s personal cellphone, I knew that by the end of our conversation he’d grant my request. I wanted our mother’s phone number, and I wanted it now.

“He’s not going to give you her phone number, she’s in Witness Protection.” Taylor said.

“You’re just going to piss him off, Zac.” Isaac cautioned.

“Look, if there’s one person who can make it happen that’s the President of CANAAN, and as he happens to be our father, and as I happen to be his favourite son, I’m going to call him now and after that I’m going to call mom. Watch me.” I said. I pressed a button on the cellphone and waited for two consecutive beeps. “Charlie.” I said into the phone. “Charlie” a female voice repeated back, reciting our father’s telephone number in a clipped, slightly robotic voice.

“This is totally normal. Your brother’s just going to ring the President of CANAAN and get your mother’s phone number, even if she’s in Witness Protection for killing her husband. Nothing out of the ordinary, no.” Jesse muttered.

“Shush.” I said. “It’s ringing.”

— ——

“Hello?”

“Mom. It’s me, Zac.”

There was a pause.

“Zachary? How did you get this number?”

“I asked …him.”

“But they said we couldn’t-”

“It doesn’t matter what they said.” I cut her off. “And anyway, it’s a secure line. We use a special phone. Don’t worry.”

I heard my mother take a slow breath in, and I imagined her face as I last remembered her, expressionless, as if nothing could affect her. It drove me mad at times, and more than once I’d wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her just to get a reaction.

“Has anything happened? Are you and your brothers okay?”

“We’re fine, mom. Nothing happened. That’s not why I’m calling. There’s something we wanted to ask you.”

Another pause.

“What is it?”

“Frobisher. Does he know who our dad is?”

My mother let out a sigh.

“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know, Zachary.”

She sounded relieved, as if she had expected me to ask an entirely different question. “Trust me, he wouldn’t be alive now if he did.”

“Are you sure? Don’t you think DuV-…Lawrence would have told him?” I pressed on.

“Lawrence didn’t know until recently. I only told him when your father’s aide got in touch after your escape. Then I had to. And he agreed not to tell anyone else for the time being. I thought that that was a further sign that he loved me. I was such a fool.”

“Mom…”

“If he’d told Frobisher, do you really think Frobisher wouldn’t have used that information against the President? It would have destroyed his campaign. Frobisher could have blackmailed him and it could have made the Church a lot of money. But at the same time, there were risks - you were out on the Outside and I was worried that Frobisher would somehow get to you and hurt you. Anything could have happened. And Lawrence agreed to keep quiet, at least for a while. Then, when we sheltered in the bunker…I knew it was a matter of time. I had to do it.”

“So nobody else in the Church knows? So we’re safe?” I said. I heard my brothers exhale with relief. This was really good news.

“You’ve always been safe. It’s your father’s secret that was at risk. But as long as his people don’t betray him, he’s safe, too, now. And that’s all I wanted. I never wanted to ruin your father’s life. He was- he is a decent man, even if it’s hard to believe, sometimes. And he will take care of you. He has promised that much to me. He promised.”

“He’s kept his promise so far, mom. We have money now, we have anything we need.”

“Yes, well. You make sure you get all the help you can get - all three of you. You won’t believe me, I know, but life on the Outside is hard. It can be so, so much harder than what we knew at the Compound. It’s all new to you but soon enough you’ll realise, and you’ll find that you have all these things, material things, but no purpose. Nothing.”

“We didn’t exactly have a purpose at the Compound, mom…”

“You believed in Salvation, didn’t you?”

“Yes but…”

“And you had a job that made you happy?”

“Y-yeah but …I didn’t exactly have a choice over what I could do, anyway. And neither did Isaac, or Taylor, and his job didn’t make him happy.”

“And what do you have now? Choices. But you don’t know what to choose. Am I right, Zachary?”

I sighed.

“I don’t know.”

“I do. Find your purpose, Zachary. And once you’ve found it, get your father to help you accomplish it - whatever it is. Your father owes it to you and your brothers.”

 

——

 

Find your purpose, my mother had said. What purpose could I possibly have in my life now? I’m blind and I don’t have any skills or qualifications that I can use on the Outside. What can I do? What do I want to do? The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me - it was unfair of my mother to put so much pressure on me. Could she not understand that it was harder for me? That I’d never be normal again. That maybe all I could really hope to do with my life was to be as independent as possible and not be a burden on my brothers? Maybe that in itself was a good enough purpose: I’d learn to leave the house by myself, maybe cook by myself…and then I could get by. Although getting by didn’t sound particularly inspiring. But I couldn’t think of anything else.

 

Later that evening we sat together in the living room, Jesse tapping away on his laptop while I sat on the floor, leaning against Isaac’s legs, aimlessly plucking at my guitar strings.

After a while, Taylor closed his book and put it down.

“Zac, what’s bothering you?” he asked me.

“Nothing.” I said, instantly knowing that was the exact trigger that would make Taylor insist.

“I’m not having that. Something’s been bothering you since you spoke to mom. Are you still worried about Frobisher? Because if she said he doesn’t know-”

“It’s not that.” I put the guitar down.

“What did she say to upset you?” Isaac asked.

The tapping of keys suddenly stopped.

Great. I have an audience now.

“She didn’t upset me. She just pointed out to what’s been right in front of me all this time.”

“Which is?” Taylor said.

“Which is, I need a purpose in life. Something to live for.”

A stunned silence followed. Well, they didn’t expect that, I thought.

Taylor spoke first.

“Zac, I’m not sure what you mean by that. You - we - have so much to live for. We have a whole new life ahead of us, out here.”

“No, you have. You have plans, you know what you want to do. You’re going to be a nurse. Maybe you could even become a doctor one day. What am I going to do? What can I do? Apart from being your blind brother that you have to take out for walks like a fucking dog?” I said, a mixture of anger and frustration suddenly rising from somewhere deep inside me.

“There’ll be things you can do, Zac-” Taylor began to say, his voice considerably softer now.

“Like what? What things? You and Isaac can do things, but what can I really do? What can I really do?”

“It’s going to take a little time, but you’ll figure it out. It hasn’t even been a year since we got out, give yourself some time!” Taylor said.

“But it’s easy for you to say, you’ve got it all planned out, and Isaac has things he can do, too! Mom says that I need a purpose, and you both have one and I haven’t.”

“Wait a minute, who said I had a purpose?” Isaac cut in. “What, you think that fixing leaking radiators is my great big purpose in life? Like that’s going to be my dream?”

“It’s something -” I said.

“No it’s not. Yeah, okay, I can do a few odd jobs here and there which makes enough money to buy some groceries. But that’s not my life’s ambition, you know? I don’t even know if I have a big dream - after the last few years, first you got sick, then everything else happened…fuck, I’m just happy to stay alive and know that you’re both safe and Taylor doesn’t have to do…whatever and that you’re not locked up in fucking cell. I guess I’m just content with that? If that’s not a grand enough purpose for mom, well then I don’t care! I just want to take care of my family!” he said, getting up.

I heard my brother open the fridge and then shut it again. The clinking of metal on glass was followed by the hissing sound of a beer bottle being opened.

“Honestly if I could speak to mom now…” Isaac said as he walked back into the living room.

“She was just saying, Ike…” Taylor said.

“Saying what? Why did she have to make him feel inadequate like that? As if we’d ever had the luxury to have these big life plans? When up until just a few months ago we were just figuring out how to stay alive from one day to the next! Now everybody has to find a fucking purpose? Well guess what, mother, I haven’t got a masterplan either but I’m doing okay!” he said, dropping himself back on the chair.

“Well, actually, you’ve just said it, you just want to take care of your family. So that’s your masterplan.” Jesse said.

“If you say so.” Isaac muttered.

But I liked Isaac’s plan: I liked the fact that he was content with what we had, and that he just wanted to take care of us. That was Isaac all over: he loved us so selflessly, so unconditionally.

I leaned back against the chair and rested my head against his leg again, trying to find the same comfortable position I’d settled into earlier. Soon I felt my brother’s hand on my head, his fingers running through my hair.

“I just don’t think Zac needs anything else to worry about, that’s all.” Isaac said, sounding a lot calmer already. “It’s like…she doesn’t think.”

“I don’t know. Maybe she was right. I can’t just sit around doing nothing forever.” I said.

“You’re not going to. Remember what we talked about earlier?” Jesse said.

“Yeah.”

“What did you talk about earlier?” Isaac asked.

I shared my plans with my brothers, feeling strangely self-conscious as I admitted that I wanted to become more independent. It also occurred to me, as I spoke, that maybe I was taking something away from Isaac. Part of his own purpose.

“Well that’s a really good way to start.” Taylor said when I’d finished speaking. “You don’t have to go out by yourself, but knowing that you can will make you feel better about yourself, I’m sure.”

“As long as I’m not completely redundant after you get that cane.” Isaac said, tugging at my hair slightly.

“I don’t think you’re at risk of that - you’re Walking Aid of the Year.” Jesse said.

My brother chuckled and put the beer bottle down on the table. I felt his hand cup the nape of my neck, then slide down my front. I took my cue and leaned my head back, exposing more of my neck to my brother’s hand, letting his fingers snake their way under my collar, digging in slightly into my skin until they could reach no further. 

As I relaxed under my brother’s touch, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like to do things on my own again, the way I used to. I pictured myself walking on my own, down the same road that lead to the park, and I imagined obstacles -  trees, parked cars, trash cans, dogs - all appearing in front of me and then vanishing right before my eyes as I got closer. I knew now that I could do it, and as I went through the scene over and over in my head, for the first time in a long time, I felt that I had something to look forward to.

I don’t know if that’s my purpose, I thought. But it will do for now.

Chapter Text

 

It still wasn’t over. First, there were the police statements which, as our father had promised, had taken place at home, in the presence of our Sasha, our attorney. They were followed by two solid weeks of daily meetings with our attorney,  to help our legal team put together our case against the Flock. Sitting down and recollecting a lifetime’s worth of events wasn’t easy; what was obvious to us was often completely alien to Sasha, who would stop us and ask us to ‘speak English’ whenever we fell into CoR speak. But the greatest difficulty was getting Zac to sit down and pay attention: he really wasn’t interested. Jesse had found an organisation which helped blind people become more independent, and Zac was itching to get on with things, resenting every minute we had to spend on our trial preparation.

I didn’t exactly enjoy the process, either. All I wanted was to put our past behind us and with it, anything to do with the Church. But there was obstacle upon obstacle to overcome and some days I felt so overwhelmed that I couldn’t see the end.

There was also something else.

I wasn’t seeing much of Jesse anymore. Because of the time we had to spend with the police and our attorney, I’d had to cut down my hours at the hospital, and was now only going in once a week - which lately seemed to always fall on a day when Jesse was working the opposite shift. On those occasions, Richter would drive me, but it wasn’t the same: I missed the time I got to spend alone with Jesse during the ride to the hospital, let alone all the rest - our breaks in the canteen and the free moments when we were both able to sneak out for fresh air and a quick chat. During those moments, I felt that I was almost his peer - a regular person with a regular job. It was the closest I’d felt to belonging out here on the Outside.

It would all be over soon, I’d tell myself. Soon, things would go back to normal. I’d have my routine routine back and maybe make a start on my plans for nursing school. The trial would make everything go away for good: our father had said he’d ‘obliterate the Flock out of existence’, and although I hadn’t known him all that long, I could already tell that Charlton McAllister always got what he wanted. 

———

“So, what time do you have to be there today?” I asked Zac as I filled his plate with eggs and bacon

After almost three weeks of waiting, Zac had his first appointment at the CANAAN Sight Center that day.

“Appointment’s at two.” Zac said, his mouth already full. The food had barely touched the plate when it was already disappearing into my brother’s mouth.

“Jesse won’t be back from work by then, but we can get a taxi.” I said.

“Richter’s taking us.”

Richter had become our walking shadow lately. Our father had been adamant - we needed protection at least until the end of the trial, in case the press or someone from the CoR’s defence team tried to find us. In an attempt to be inconspicuous, Richter had swapped the secret services’ standard-issue Oblivion for a generic white Urbana which had been especially kitted out with all the high-tech safety features of the Oblivion. He’d also forgone his regulation black suit and now would usually turn up at the apartment in what he described as ‘civilian’ clothes: jeans, a polo neck shirt and a blazer. Jesse said that if before Richter could maybe pass for a lawyer, he now looked 100% law enforcement.

“So, what’s going to happen at your first meeting?” I asked

“Just a chat.” Zac said, before shovelling another forkful of food into his mouth.

I glanced at Isaac. He shrugged, as if to say I don’t know any more than you do.

“You don’t need to be there if you’re busy.” Zac said between mouthfuls. “Ike’s coming.”

“I’m not busy. I want to be there.”

“Taylor should come, Zac.” Isaac said.

“Fine, I don’t mind. Is there any bacon left?”

— 

“What do you mean we can’t stay?” Isaac said.

The woman pressed her lips into a tight smile.

“We don’t advise it. Your presence will likely cause your brother to feel self-conscious, and we like to encourage our clients to take their first steps toward independence in a neutral, non-judgemental environment.”

“But we’re not judging him, we’re his brothers!” Isaac insisted. “This is ridiculous!”

“Family members mean well, but they can bring in complex family dynamics which may interfere with our client’s progress.”

Complex family dynamics? You have no idea - I thought to myself.

“Ike-” Zac said.

“How do you expect us to leave our brother here, on his own-”

“Ike-”

“…it’s a lot to expect him to just trust a complete stranger while his broth-”

“Isaac!” Zac burst out, startling us both.

“Ike.” Zac’s voice softened. “Tay. I’m going to be fine. Just go and wait outside. Go get a coffee or something.”

“Are you sure?” Isaac didn’t sound convinced.

“Positive. Go. Go.”

“We’ll be right outside, okay?” I said.

“I know.”

— ——

“I’m not convinced this is a good idea.” Isaac said as we walked out of the building. Richter’s car was parked right outside on the opposite side of the road.

“Well, if that’s how things work, we just have to trust them. Try not to worry.” I said.

“I can’t help it!” Isaac snapped, opening the car door.

“Everything okay?” Richter asked, looking at us from the rearview mirror.

“Not really. They told us to wait outside. What if that woman is actually someone from the Flock? What if they’re trying to kidnap him and -” Isaac’s words tumbled out.

“She’s not. We’ve run background checks on every member of staff at the centre.” Richter said flatly.

“You…did?” Isaac’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“Do you security-check anyone we speak to these days?” I asked, only half-joking.

“If we have enough notice, yes.”

“Wow.” I said. “How long is this going to go on for? Are we ever going to be able to lead a normal life?”

Richter twisted on his seat to face us.

“You’ll be under enhanced security for as long as it’s required. You’re related to the President. You don’t get to lead a normal life.”

“Wonderful.” I said.

“Well, I’m actually okay with that, if that means that nobody is trying to hurt Zac. Or you.” Isaac added.

Richter turned back to face the steering wheel again.

“Nobody’s getting hurt on my watch.”

—  — —

Nobody got hurt. Zac, however, refused to go into detail about his meeting, other than to announce that he’d be going there every day for the next week or two, or until his trainer ‘graduated’ him.

Isaac and I went along every day - in spite of our brother’s assurance that once Richter dropped him off there, he’d be fine on his own. There was a coffee shop nearby, so every day we’d get coffees for the three of us and then drank them in the car with Richter.

“I thought you said he was safe in there, anyway?” I’d asked him when he refused to leave his post to go and sit in the coffee shop instead.

“He is, but my job is to keep it that way.”

 

On the day of the fifth session, it rained. Heavy rain with drops so big they bounced back off the sidewalk and splashed all over your clothes, making it impossible to stay dry.

Isaac had insisted on walking our brother into the CSC, shielding him under a big black umbrella that Richter kept in the trunk. We picked up coffees and rushed back to the car. By now we’d fallen into a routine - Isaac and I talked between ourselves and Richter would occasionally say a word or two, never really shifting his attention from the building across the road and our surroundings.

“He should come out any minute now.” Isaac said once the hour was up.

“Fifteen-hundred hours. ETA fifteen-hundred-o-five.” Richter said, glancing toward the building across the road.

Five minutes later, however, there was still no sign of our brother.

“He’s running late.” Isaac said, twisting his body to get a better look out of the car window.

“It’s only five minutes.” I said. “Stop being so anxious.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” Isaac said, tapping his fingers on his thigh. “Too many bad memories.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen this time.” I said, and without thinking, I took his hand inside mine and brought it to my lips, lightly kissing his fingers. Before I’d realised what I was doing, I’d met Richter’s eyes on the rearview mirror - only for a split second, and then he looked away, his attention once again back on the job.

I let go of my brother’s hand as it was a burning object and looked outside, hoping that Zac would come out to divert Richter’s attention from what he’d just seen. Maybe I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I wasn’t sure. Did brothers on the Outside show affection toward each other that way? I made a mental note to ask Jesse later on. It really could be that I was worrying about nothing.

“He’s 15 minutes late now.” Isaac said eventually. “This isn’t right.”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason.” I said, although I could feel the old worry creep up inside me.

“We should have given him the cellphone.” Isaac said. “Then Max could check his location, right Max?” Isaac said.

“Affirmative.”

“I tried, remember? He didn’t want to take it.”

“I’m not waiting any longer, Tay, let’s go.”

Just as we got out of the car, someone stepped out of the CSC building.

It was Zac’s trainer.

She held the door open, and for a while it looked as if nobody was coming out of the door. Then I saw it: a thin white cane, tentatively tapping the floor, left to right, left to right, tap-tap, tap-tap. I knew whose hand was holding that cane but I still couldn’t quite believe it and held my breath until I saw my brother walking out of the door on his own, unaided.

“Ike-” I said, my eyes still trained on our brother.

“I know.” He put his hand on my shoulder.

“Do you think we should…”

“No.”

We watched our little brother in awe as he slowly made his way toward us from the building’s entrance, the trainer walking beside him, her back turned to face him. She was talking to him, probably giving him directions. She steered him to the nearest crossing, and there she took his other hand - and placed it on the crosswalk signal. I watched my brother feel the signal box with his hand until his finger found the pushbutton. Within seconds, a loud beep signalled the WALK sign flashing green, and Zac calmly resumed his walk, unhurried by the running engines waiting for him to cross. Soon my brother was safely on the sidewalk, hair dripping with water now, his lips tightened in concentration. As he got closer, I could actually hear the cane hit the sidewalk - tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap.

He’d made it.

“Now stop”-  the trainer said but Zac had already put the cane down, and was standing right in front of us, defiantly.

“Well?” he said after a couple of seconds, tapping the tips of Isaac’s shoes with the cane. “Are we just going to stand here? I’m getting soaked.”

—— 

I glanced at the rearview mirror on the drive home - I’d taken my place next to Richter so that my brothers could sit together. All signs of his earlier effort had gone from Zac’s face and he looked relaxed again, his hand buried in Isaac’s coat’s pocket, as he often did when we rode with Richter.

Zac had given me plenty of reasons to be proud - when I realised how talented he was with a paintbrush in his hand; when he played me an entire song on the guitar, only days after his first lesson with Jesse. More recently, I’d stood in amazement as he addressed the crowd locked inside the Assembly Hall.  But nothing had prepared me for the sight of my little brother with a cane in his hand, finally free to walk by himself, like he used to. 

 

The President called that night, and asked Zac to gather us around and put the call on speakerphone. Dr Adams, too.

“I thought I’d brief you all at the same time about the weeks ahead.” the President said once we were all gathered around the phone. Jesse was perched on the couch armrest - looking ready to get up and leave at a second’s notice.

“First of all, as I’m sure you have realised by now, in the following weeks and months there will be need for enhanced security. This means that you will have to keep Richter informed of where you’re going, at all times.”

Jesse opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything, the President carried on.

“That includes you, Dr Adams.”

“Me? But with all due respect, Mr President-”

“Dr Adams. My sons live with you. Therefore you’re equally a potential target for the press, or for the Church. I am not asking.”

Jesse covered his mouth with his hand and I wondered if he was going to argue back.

“Are we clear?” The President insisted.

Jesse blinked slowly.

“Yes, Mr President.”

“There’s something else, Dr Adams. Our attorney requested that you give a statement too.”

“Me? Why?”

“You assessed the injuries Zac had suffered at the Compound, you gave him emergency treatment and without your help things could have been really serious.”

Jesse glanced at Zac, his eyes landing on my brother’s still-scarred wrists. 

“Thing were already very serious, Mr President. But yes, I treated him.”

“So you’re a witness. Your testimony is going to help my sons’ case, Dr Adams. Legally I could force you to co-operate but I’d rather not go down that route. ”

“Is this really necessary? Surely there will so many Flock members testifying against Frobisher-” I rushed to say.

“I’m afraid so, Taylor. That’s the best evidence to show the extent of the abuse at the Detox Center. They will try anything to deny what went on. We can’t let them.” the President’s said.

“Why?” Zac asked. “There’s tons of evidence to prove that the Church did a lot of bad stuff. Even if we can’t prove what they did to me…it’s done now. I’m not going to suddenly start seeing again if they’re declared guilty. I don’t want to drag Jesse into this.”

“Zac, it’s okay.” Jesse put his hand on Zac’s wrist. “I have to do this now.”

“But you’ve done enough for us! And when is this going to end? I mean, the Compound has been shut down, now there’s going to be a trial, and I feel… like we’re getting sucked into that too. We got away but now…we have to relive it all over again?” Zac half shouted.

A long pause followed. Even through the speakerphone, I could hear our father take a slow, deep breath in. When he spoke, his voice was calm and unemotional.

“I’m sorry Zac, but you will just have to get through it. I had the Compound stormed and shut down. Now there has to be a legal process to follow. When we unleash the dogs of war, we must go where they take us.”

“But -”

“Mr President, I’ll testify.” Jesse said, leaning forward toward the phone.

“Good. I’m glad. Thank you, Doctor Adams.” the President said after a split second’s pause. I could hear the relief in his voice. I’m sure it was relief at not having to argue, rather than the relief that Jesse had agreed. I had no doubt that our father would have got his own way anyway.

“Well, that’s all for today.” our father said.

“Wait.” I said. “Zac, do you not want to tell him about today?”

Zac shrugged.

“Today you went to the CANAAN Sight Center, correct?” the President’s tone was suddenly lighter. 

“You already know anyway.” Zac said.

“Richter sends me a daily schedule of your movements. How did it go?”

“It was okay.” Zac said.

“It was more than okay, Zac.” Isaac said. “He-”

“I walked to the car by myself, with a cane. The trainer was there anyway. No big deal.”

“No big deal.” the President said at the other end of the phone. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Good. What happens next?”

“Next my trainer is coming over for a ‘living assessment’. To show me how I can do things for myself like cooking and stuff. I told her that it’s not my house and also that Ike and Taylor cook for me but she insisted. She said it’s part of the process.” my brother said, emphasising his last words.

“Learn to do it, get the grades and then let someone else do it for you anyway. Do you think a President writes his own speeches and drafts his own policies?” the President chuckled.

“You don’t?” Isaac asked.

“Of course not - I pay people to do that for me.”

“Well, I don’t have to pay them to make me lunch.” Zac said.

“See? You’re one step ahead of the President of CANAAN. Getting people to do things for you - for free! Anyway. I must go now. Dr Adams, Sasha will be in touch. Oh and, it goes without saying, don’t talk to the media.”

“How would they find out anyway? I thought no journalists will be allowed to the trial.” I said.

The President’s voice took a serious tone again.

“Taylor, I can guarantee that no cameras will be allowed. But journalists will have be given some access in one form or another. CANAAN is still a democracy, after all.”

“So what does that mean? Will Jesse be on the news?” I said.

“Not if I can help it.” Jesse said.

“We’ll all do our best to keep things as discreet as possible. It’s in all our interests.” the President said. “Goodbye for now.”

— — —

“Are you sure you’re okay to testify?” I asked Jesse later that night. Zac had gone to bed while we and Isaac talked over a drink.

“I don’t think I really have much choice.” Jesse said. “I can be subpoenaed anyway, but I know I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to get those people behind bars for a long time.”

“But…what if you end up in the news? Can they fire you from your job?” I asked.

Jesse looked at me for a long moment.

“Taylor, the question is not ‘if I end up on the news’. It’s ‘when’. The media will find out. I’m not worried about my job because …other than sneaking you into a cubicle a few months ago, I didn’t do anything wrong. But-”

“-if they find out who you are, it won’t take them long to figure out who we are.” Isaac said.

“Exactly. People have already been talking since we started showing up at work together.” Jesse said. “The neighbours have also asked questions before. I’m sure whatever story we told them won’t cut it with a reporter from the City Globe.”

“So we’ll end up on the news whether we like it or not? Even if the President said that he’d keep us out of it?” I said.

“I think so.” Jesse said. I imagined that was the kind of brutally honest, sympathetic look he used when he had to break bad news to a patient’s relatives.

“Do you think they’ll find out that he’s our father?”

“I don’t know. I doubt it. I mean, even if they notice that you have security around you…they’d probably think it’s about you being key witnesses. From that to guessing that you’re the President’s long-lost sons there’d be quite a leap of the imagination to make.”

“It’s crazy enough for us to believe already!” Isaac said, before emptying his glass. He stretched out his arm and rested it on my shoulder. “It gets a little crazier every day. I don’t miss the Compound for a moment, but things were simple there. Right now…every day there’s something new consider. Like…the rules of the game keep changing. Or maybe nobody ever explained them to me properly. Or maybe I’m just a simple man and I can’t understand them.” Isaac said, his fingers trailing down my arm. “On this note, I’m going to bed. You’re coming, Tay?”

I thought I saw a little glimpse of something in my brother’s eyes - an invitation. Or maybe he’d just had a little too much to drink. Either way, I wasn’t ready to go to bed.

“I’ll be there in a bit. You go ahead.”

There was an almost imperceptible pause, and I thought he was going to insist. Eventually, my brother got up.

“All right. I’ll see you in bed. Night Jesse.”

“G’night mate.”

Jesse picked up the TV’s remote control and flicked through the channels, the sound still turned to mute from when we were talking. He stayed on a channel for a couple of seconds, then flicked again, then again, until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for something to watch”

“We were having a conversation and now you’re going through every single TV channel with the TV on mute?”

Jesse exhaled loudly, before jabbing the remote control with his thumb. The TV screen went black. Jesse dropped the remote on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch.

“All right. Let’s talk.” he shrugged.

“Jesse, what’s going on? All of a sudden you’re acting weird.”

“I should really be the one asking you what’s going on, Taylor.”

“Why?”

“You and Isaac. Things are different between you two now, aren’t they? It’s been that way since you got back from the Compound.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but I couldn’t. I should have known that Jesse would have picked up on things.

“Yeah. Well - yes.” I said, wondering if my voice sounded as strained  to Jesse as it sounded to me.

“Thought so.”

“Jesse, I don’t know how to explain it but-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself. What’s between you and your brothers…I can’t understand. I’m not even going to try. I don’t know why I even brought it up, to be honest. I’m more annoyed at myself being …”

I waited, although I had a fair idea of what Jesse wanted to say.

He sighed.

“I’m annoyed at myself for feeling …disappointed. I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“I’m sorry if let you down…but you know how I feel about you, I thought I’d made it perfectly clear?” I said. I couldn’t quite believe that Jesse had practically admitted of being jealous of Isaac. And that, deep down, was a good thing.

“You did. I just didn’t think I’d feel this way. That’s all.” he shrugged.

“So…do you…have feelings for me?” I said, trying to disguise the hope in my tone.

Jesse leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers interlaced together.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re really as innocent as you look, or if you’re in fact the most manipulative person I’ve ever met. Or just plain stupid.” he said.

“Why do you say that…?” I said.

“Because you can’t possibly be so fucking dumb as to not have noticed that I have feelings for you.” Jesse said, lowering his voice slightly.

I couldn’t suppress a smile.

“You do?”

“Jesus Christ, Taylor.” Jesse’s face softened. “Maybe you really are stupid, after all.” He leaned back on the couch.

I could take ‘stupid’. Jesse had just admitted his feelings for me and that was all I cared about.

“Jesse, you know that what I have with my brothers…is different, right? That doesn’t mean that I can’t have feelings for somebody else. They know that. I thought I’d said this before.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you telling me that you had your brothers’ permission. That makes it all right, doesn’t it? You know, I’m perfectly okay with the idea of sharing you with two other guys - they’re your brothers, after all, so that makes it all okay!” he said, spreading his arms out on the back of the couch.

“Jesse…you’re giving up before anything has even started. Who’s stupid now?” I said. I’d seen an opening and I wasn’t going to let the door shut in front of me.

“What’s the point, Tay - how’s this ever going to work out? Have you seen how possessive Isaac has become with you?”

“He’s always been protective of me.”

“Not like this. Since you two got back from your honeymoon, he doesn’t miss an opportunity…to mark his territory. He’s constantly touching your arm, putting his hand on your shoulder…like if I’m talking to you, he’ll magically appear out of nowhere - it’s as if he wants to show me that you’re his property. It’s really obvious.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t do that on purpose…he’s just …we’re just closer now. I guess he doesn’t feel excluded anymore.”

“So, the key to a happy relationship with your brothers is to screw them.”

My hope turned to hurt in seconds: Jesse had never been so crude about me and my brothers before.

“You know, I thought you were okay with …us three. Clearly I was wrong, as you make it sound like we’re doing something…dirty.” I said, struggling to control the shaking in my voice.

“I’m sorry.” Jesse shook his head. “I didn’t mean to be a dick. I think I need to go to bed - I keep saying the wrong thing tonight. ”

He stood up.

“I guess I should do the same.” I said. Only minutes before, Jesse had openly admitted his feelings for me, and now everything had gone wrong.

I followed him out of the door, switching the light off on my way out.

“Night Tay.” Jesse said, stopping at his bedroom door. At least I was ‘Tay’ again.

I said goodnight and headed for the kitchen. I took a glass from the dish rack and filled it with cold water from the faucet. I drank the water in large gulps, then rinsed the glass under the running water and put it back upside down on the rack. I stared at it, looking at the droplets of water slowly slide downward. On impulse, I grabbed a dish cloth and picked up the glass again and stuffed a large corner of the cloth inside, drying the inside with a twisting motion, until it was perfectly dry. I opened a cupboard and put the glass inside. Then I picked up another glass and did the same. One by one, I dried everything that was on the dish rack and put it away, then I wiped the steel surface under the dish rack until it was completely dry, and did the same to the kitchen sink, until the last droplet of water had disappeared. I looked around the kitchen, but it was clear that there was nothing else left to tidy up. Now I really had to go to bed.

I was making my way to my room when noticed Jesse’s bedroom door was partly open, the light from inside spilling out into the darkness of the hallway. I stood still for a long moment: Jesse always shut his door when he went to bed. Without thinking, I walked closer and put my hand on the handle, slowly pushing the door open open.

Jesse had changed into his grey pajama pants and a grey t-shirt and was now standing in front of me, arms crossed, as if he’d been expecting me.

“I …just saw the door was open and I should…umm not …I should go -” I pointed with my thumb over my shoulder.

“No you shouldn’t.” Jesse stepped closer, reaching behind me with his arm until the door clicked closed.

“Stay.” he said, putting his hands on my hips.

Jesse slid his hands up my waist and pulled me to him, closing the little space that was left between us. I couldn’t believe it was really happening, even when I felt his lips brush against mine - even as his kiss deepened and I found myself welcoming the intrusion, my senses filled with the strange of combination of the toothpaste he’d just used and the unfamiliar taste of someone new. 

“Tay.” Jesse said, breaking our kiss for a moment.

“You know that once we start this…there’s no going back right? You’re sure that’s what you want?”

“Positive.” I said in a strangled voice, and grabbed a fistful of fabric from his t-shirt to draw him close again, my lips already parted with anticipation. The dogs of war, I thought as Jesse kissed me again, his hands roaming all over my body, grabbing me, pulling me closer to him.

I’d kissed more guys than I could remember, and over the years had learnt to overcome my revulsion. I’d learned to switch off when I was getting fucked, but I always tried to get out of kissing, even if that sometimes meant getting down on my knees and using my mouth in a different way. I’d never known that kissing someone other than my brothers could feel so good and so exhilarating - that to taste Jesse’s mouth would send me into such a frenzy.

We had to come up for air, eventually - yet we were still holding on to each other, our foreheads touching and our mouths still so close that I could feel Jesse’s breath on my lips.

“Tay.” Jesse said, leaning back a little to look at me.

I blinked a silent ‘yes’ to the unspoken question in his eyes and let him take my hand as he took a few steps backwards until the bed was right behind him. He sat down and pulled me on top of him so that I had no choice but to sit on his lap, straddling him.

“You don’t need this.” he said, lifting my t-shirt as far as he could. I lifted my arms and let him help me take it off, then I did the same with his. I ran my hand on his bicep, feeling how his muscle curved under my fingers. I couldn’t help noticing how different we looked - Jesse’s body was strong and sculpted, the result of all those hours he put in at the hospital gym. I’d never worked out in my life - except for the compulsory running drills at the Compound, and it showed, especially now after several months of eating three good meals a day. 

“I really should start going to the gym with you.” I said, stroking his chest. It felt rock hard. I’d seen pictures of marble statues of ancient Gods, and they had bodies like Jesse’s.

“Please don’t. You’re perfect the way you are.” he said, pulling me into another deep kiss. Slowly, I began to push him down on to the bed, until I was right on top of him. I lowered my hips to meet his, noticing that he was just as turned on as I was. I snuck a finger under the waistband of his pyjama pants and pulled downwards.

“Time for these to come off.” I said.

“Only if you do the same.” he said, already manoeuvring to remove his clothes and underwear.

I hesitated. There was no other way to take my jeans off without having to stand up again and let Jesse see me undress.

“Okay.” I said, quickly jumping off him, keeping my eyes lowered while I fumbled with my pants and my underwear until I was free of all clothing - all the while feeling Jesse’s eyes boring into me. I hopped on the bed as quickly as I could and laid myself down next to Jesse, and only then allowing myself to steal a quick glance at the lower half of his naked body.

“You can look, you know…I’ve enjoyed the strip-tease too.” he said with a grin on his face.

“I know…I just…” I stuttered, instantly knowing that a hot, pink flush was flooding my face.

“…you’re so cute when you’re being coy.” Jesse said, and as she did, he inched a little closer, drawing me to him until I could feel his hard-on pressing against my stomach, and couldn’t help gasping at the sudden contact with Jesse’s naked flesh.

“You’re so sensitive…” Jesse said softly. “I’ve barely touched you.”

“I know…” I whimpered.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Jesse said, his eyes fixed on mine.

I found myself making a sound I couldn’t quite recognise.

“What’s that - a no?” Jesse said, a corner of his mouth upturned into a smirk.

“No! I mean yes. Please.”

“Like this?” he asked.

Before I had a chance to reply, he’d wrapped his fingers around my dick.

“You like that?” he asked again as he started to stroke me.

“Hmm, yeah-” How could I not like this? I thought.

“Good.” he said, and kissed me again.

It had only been minutes since we’d first kissed, but feeling his mouth on mine triggered in me a desperate need for more, all rational thought swept away by my desire for Jesse. As I frantically tasted him over and over, I asked myself if I could ever detach my lips from his - if I could ever stop kissing him. It felt too good already - the way he was expertly stroking me, as if he knew exactly how I liked it.

“I think it’s fair to say that you like this.” Jesse said as he ran his thumb over the head of my dick in a circular motion, spreading the silky fluid around it and down my length.

Oh, I like it all right. A bit too much.

“Jesse, you’re going to have to stop or …you know…” I said, clasping his hand and holding it still in place. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I don’t want it to be over too quickly.”

Jesse looked really serious for a second.

“Neither do I. I just…” he paused.

“What?”

He blinked. A frown crawled across his forehead.

“I know that once I’ve had you, I’m not going to want to give you back.” he continued.

My eyes widened in disbelief. “Give me back?”

“Yeah. To your brothers.”

“Jesse…they don’t own me. We’ve talked about this. They’ll be okay with this.”

“But I might not be. We haven’t even really done anything and I already want you all for myself. And that’s never going to happen, is it?”

There was only one possible answer to that question.

“No.” I said.

“Thought so.” he blinked slowly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve been honest right from the start. And I knew I was in trouble the moment I saw you sitting on that sidewalk with your brothers.” he said, brushing a strand of my hair off my face.

“I thought you’d come over to help Zac.”

“Yeah, I did. And then I saw you.”

“Right.”

“You were filthy.” his mouth curved into a smile.

“Yeah, I know…you don’t need to remind me.”

“But you were still beautiful - even under two inches of grime. I still saw you.” Jesse trailed his fingers along my cheek.

“So you liked me from the start?”

“Of course I did.”

“So… is that why you decided to help us?”

“No…I mean, in part, I guess. It’s not that I hadn’t seen people needing help before, with the Exodus going on. But you can’t help everybody…and you have to be careful. With the three of you…it was obvious that you weren’t going to try to stab me, or even rob me.”

“Even if we’d wanted to, we could barely stand up at that point.”

“You were all in a pretty bad way.” he said, his eyes fixed on mine. “But…I don’t know. I remember giving you that envelope  with my note paper…I could have just given you the money. I remember questioning what I was doing even then, but I couldn’t help myself.”

I looked at Jesse - the man who’d effectively saved not just me, but my two brothers too. He’d never made me feel that he expected something back. He could have done, and I would have gladly given him what he wanted, but somehow, it wouldn’t have been right - I knew that now.

“Jesse?” I asked. “Do you still want me?”

Jesse’s eyes widened as a grin crept across his face.

“Do you really have to ask?” he said.

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind…” I said.

The truth was that, if Jesse had changed his mind, I had no doubt I could unchange it. I knew all the tricks of the trade: once I was flat on my back, I could make any man stay. All I had to do was to look at him in a certain way, and to touch him in a certain way. Years of having sex for a living had taught me that I held a lot of power in a flick of my tongue; in a twist of my fingers. But that’s not how I wanted Jesse. I wasn’t going to trick him: I needed to know that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

In reply, Jesse climbed on top of me, trapping me between his legs. He took my wrists and pinned my arms over my head.

“Is this okay?” he asked, still pressing my wrists down firmly. I could see it in his eyes that he already knew the answer, but he still had to ask. I nodded, squirming under his weight, the position of my arms causing my back to arch.

Still keeping me pinned down by my wrists with one hand, Jesse positioned himself between my legs, nudging my knees apart, first one leg, then the other; he put his hand on my thigh and looked at me questioningly. I took the hint and spread my legs for him, wishing, for a moment, that we’d switched off the bedside light. It was too late for that: I had no choice but to let him look at me from behind the long strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes. I felt exposed, but I knew I was safe. When I felt his hand on me again, however, I realised that I was actually shaking.

“Is everything okay?”

“No …I - I don’t think I can wait much longer…”

“Wait for what?” he teased.

“Wait for you to…umm…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.The ability of talking dirty in bed had clearly abandoned me.

“Aw, look at you. Gone all shy now? All right, I’m going to have to let go of you now while we take a break. One sec.”

I looked at him questioningly as he let go of my wrists.

“A break?”

Jesse stared at me for a second.

“Just getting a condom…?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” he said as he reached out to open the nightstand drawer. Once he found what he was looking for, Jesse sat up, his back turned to me. I heard him tear the foil packet open and I had to look away.

The sound of latex snapping on skin was something that belonged to my old life - I hadn’t needed to use a condom since the time hustling with Dylan.

“Are you okay?” Jesse asked. “Taylor?”

“Yeah?” I turned to face him again, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on his face.

“Tay, is …this bothering you?” he made a vague hand gesture downwards.

“Um, n- no. I mean, I - no.”

“Tay, you understand why we need to use these, right? I’m not sure what they told you at your Compound but-”

“I know. Diseases. It’s just…I haven’t seen one since Blue City.”

Jesse gave a slow, deliberate nod of the head.

“O-kay. It’s just a precaution, Tay. For your safety as much as mine, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.” I shrugged.

Jesse gave out a long sigh and put his hand on the back of my neck, digging his fingers through my hair.

“Tay, just because I’m using a condom with you, it doesn’t make me one of your clients. Whatever you do with your brothers, I don’t want to know, but I’m not them, and I’m not someone who is paying you for sex either.”

“I know you’re not, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me - I’ve wanted this so badly and now …I’m like…so nervous” I said, feeling my face flush once again.

“I’ll help you relax.” he said, kissing me before he gently pushed me back down on the bed. “Oh, hang on.”

Jesse reached into the nightstand’s drawer again, producing a small bottle of lube. For someone who didn’t seem to have much of a sex life, he was certainly prepared.

“Where were we?” he said, leaning over to kiss me again, as strands of hair brushed my face and tickled my skin.

He put his hand on the inside of my leg.

“Open up for me.” he whispered in my ear.

I did what he said with no hesitation - years of habit, a lifetime of programming had made me the most accommodating, compliant lover. I gasped at the cold, slick contact of the lube as Jesse pushed his fingers inside me. I had no doubt now that he’d had plenty of experience, and there were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I decided that we’d had enough interruptions for one night: now I just wanted to lose myself in the arms of this stranger - the Outsider who felt familiar and foreign at the same time, who was neither a client nor my brother.

I closed my eyes, relaxing into Jesse’s touch, anticipating what I knew would happen next. I couldn’t help reverting to my old ways, so used I was to relaxing my body on command to spare myself from unnecessary pain and to look as keen as the man who was about to take me. I found myself going back to an old trick of mine, and let myself sink deeper into the mattress, relinquishing any control on my limbs, pretending I was a rag doll under Jesse’s weight.

“Look at me.” Jesse said, digging his fingers a little deeper inside me. My eyes flew open and I cried out, as a wave of pleasure shot through my spine.

“I want you to look at me while I get you ready.” he said, tugging at my hair, forcefully but not so that it would hurt. I resisted the urge to close my eyes again, letting Jesse hold my head in place by my hair, forcing me to keep eye contact. He studied me for a few long seconds, before twisting his fingers inside me in such a way that I didn’t expect - that was the kind of thing I was used to doing to others - so that’s what it feels like to be on the receiving end, I thought, as I let out a loud moan - not caring about the fact that my brothers would probably hear it from across the hallway.

“Feels good?” he said.

“Hmm…”

“Want more now?” he said, leaning over me so close now that I had to blink to refocus my eyes on his.

“Please…” I pleaded.

I’d never thought I’d be begging him, and I’d never expected Jesse to be so dominant. It hit me in that moment that Jesse had no idea of what I’d be like in bed, either. He wanted me, unconditionally. It was a liberating thought, and as I realised that that night I could be whoever I wanted to be, a smile spread across my face.

“Jesse.”

“What…”

“Fuck me.”

 

I didn’t have to ask twice, and barely had time to register the loss of contact from Jesse’s fingers. I ached for him during those few interminable seconds as he reached for the lube again and coated himself with it. When he started to push his way inside me, I let out a low, breathy growl - a noise that didn’t even sound like something coming from me, but that was charged with anticipation and relief in equal measure. It must have sounded strange because Jesse stopped, and I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Keep going.” I said.

As my body adjusted to receive him, with every moan escaping my lips, I felt free. I wasn’t someone's brother, I wasn’t anyone’s whore. There was no need to pretend, to protect or persuade - I could let myself be carried away, I could let myself be taken, loved, used, touched, kissed and fucked - and this time no one was expecting anything from me. I could just be me.

I couldn’t help comparing Jesse’s strong, lean muscular body to Zac’s stocky frame or Isaac’s smooth, almost feminine, soft chest, but I quickly put the thought out of my mind, too turned on by the sight of Jesse fucking me - how his abdomen tightened with every thrust of the hips, the way his biceps flexed as he held me. I couldn’t quite believe that that right now, Jesse was mine.

 

Whatever shred of control I still possessed, I finally let it go as I felt that familiar, rising wave telling me I was getting close, and suddenly I was grabbing at Jesse, clawing at his skin, reaching around the small of his back as far as I could reach, unashamedly trying to push him further inside me. He took the hint, stroking me faster as his thrusts became harder and deeper - he, himself, well past the point of no return.

All I needed was one look from him to know that I could let myself go: my eyes fluttered and all my thoughts became colours dancing under my eyelids, pulsating to the rhythm of my own heart beat. My whole body shook as I came, and I was lost for a few long seconds, vaguely aware of the liquid warmth that had just landed on my stomach.

I opened my eyes to perfect timing - to the sight of Jesse coming undone, his head thrown back, his lips slightly parted. Afterwards, we laid facing each other, panting, waiting for our heartbeats to slow down.

“Tay?” he said after a while.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t take this in the wrong way but-” he paused.

“But what?” I tensed.

“I love you.”

——

When I woke up, It took me a few seconds to remember that I was in Jesse’s room. We’d fallen asleep together, my back pressed against his stomach. He’d held me tight, kissing my shoulder until we were both gone.

We’d shifted apart a little in our sleep, so I was able to inch away without waking him, slowly extracting myself from the covers. I sat up at the edge of the bed, scanning the darkness of the room. Gingerly, I stuck my foot out and felt for my clothes on the floor. I got dressed quietly, turning to check on Jesse a couple of times, but he was fast asleep. I padded quietly out of the room, closing the door as slowly as I could, holding my breath until the door click shut.

I went to the kitchen and turned the light on, standing still for a few seconds, dazed by the sudden brightness. When my eyes adjusted, I picked up a glass from the cupboard and ran the faucet, sticking my finger under the water until it was cold enough to drink. I filled the glass and drank it all at once, the faucet still running. Then I filled it again and took another long sip, my thirst quenched now. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and paused as I heard the soft sound of bare feet behind me. I turned. My older brother was leaning against the doorframe.

“Ike.”

He lifted his chin in answer.

“Are you okay?” I said, the glass still in my hand.

“I am. How about you?” He gave me a pointed look.

I turned my back to my brother and poured the rest of the water down the sink. I rinsed the glass quickly under the faucet, before putting it upside down on the dish rack.

“Taylor?”

“I’m good.” I said, turning back to face him. He looked tired.

“Are you coming to bed or are you…”

“Yes. I’m coming to bed.” I said, surprising myself at my snap decision.

“Was..um…” my brother cleared his throat. “Is everything okay with you two now? I mean if you want to spend the night it’s okay with us, you know? Zac was a bit restless but I managed to distract him.” he said with a thin smile.

“No, it’s fine. It’s good, we’re good. I just…I woke up and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I need to be in my bed.”

Isaac exhaled softly.

“Good.” he said. “Come here.” he held his arms open.

I froze.

“Not now Ike.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you know why. I need a shower.” I said, looking over his shoulder and then back at him, hoping he’d take the hint.

My brother fixed me with a strange look - amused, irritated, offended - I wasn’t quite sure.

“Do you really think I care?” my brother said in a tone I’d never heard before. “You think I care that you’ve just been with him? After all those years of you coming home after fucking a bunch of strangers before? That’s never stopped me from wanting to hold you.”

“I know.” I admitted.

“Right.” he said, softening. He put his hand on my shoulder, and trailed it down my arm. Finally, he let his hands drop to his side and shrugged.

“Anyway. Let’s go to bed, before Zac wakes up.” he said.

As we padded along the corridor, I glanced at Jesse’s bedroom door.

I’ll have some explaining to do. I’ll think about it tomorrow, I thought, as I followed my brother into our bedroom.

Chapter Text

I opened my eyes and flinched from the light filtering through a gap in the curtains. I pawed the nightstand for my phone and looked at the time. 7:00 AM. Quietly, so as not to wake my brothers, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and reached for the clothes I’d dropped on the floor the night before. After splashing some cold water on my face and giving my teeth a cursory brush, I rushed out of the bedroom. Maybe I could still catch him.

Jesse was sitting in the kitchen. He was scrolling through the screen of his tablet with one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. As I walked in, he glanced up for a split second and quickly lowered his eyes again.

I stood there for a long moment, unsure of what to say.

“Please talk to me.” I finally said.

After what felt to me like an eternity, he looked up.

“What’s there to talk about?” he said, coldly.

“Last night. I’m sorry I left like that.”

His eyes took a glint of steel.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“Jesse, come on…I’m sorry…I’m just not used to waking up next to someone-”

“…someone other than your brothers. I get it. So what do you want me to say, huh?”

“I don’t know, just please…don’t be mad at me.’

“I’m not mad at you. I’m pissed off at myself for letting this happen. I knew it was a bad idea, and I walked right into it.” He took a sip from his coffee.

“It wasn’t a bad idea. How can you even think that?”

Jesse’s lips curved upwards, but his eyes weren’t smiling.

“No? We have sex, I tell you that I love you, we fall asleep together and then I wake up and you’re not there. And guess where you’ve gone? You’re tucked in with your brothers. You can’t even bring yourself to share a bed with me for a few hours.”

“Jesse, it wasn’t like that!” I threw my hands up in the air. “Apart from that one night at the motel, I’d never spent the night with anyone else, other than clients-”

“-and that night at the motel you were drunk. I got the message, loud and clear, don’t you worry.” he got up and walked over to the sink. As he reached to turn the faucet on, I grabbed his arm.

“Jesse, please. You know how I feel about you - I’ve never felt like this before for anyone else. I said that I loved you too, didn’t I?”

His face softened, and he gave me a long look.

“Tay, I know you love me, or at least you think you do, but the problem is that you love your brothers more. It’s really that simple. I thought I could be okay with that but actually, judging by how I felt this morning, I can’t.”

“I love my brothers in a different way, I can’t explain but-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s not even fair to ask you to. I can’t expect you to have a normal relationship with me.” Jesse shook his head slowly.

“So…are we just going to pretend that nothing ever happened? That we don’t have feelings for each other, even if we do? That’s just stupid!”

“Taylor, I’m trying to stop myself from getting hurt even more.” he countered, lowering his voice. I’d heard that tone at the hospital before, that undercurrent of repressed anger. I couldn’t believe that it was now directed at me.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I said, trying and failing to control my shaking voice. I searched his eyes for the answer I wanted to hear - that it was all going to be okay, that we could move on from this.

He took a step back, freeing his arm from my grip.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, Tay. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen again though. Next time you go and snuggle up to Isaac, or Zac, instead of staying with me…I’ll feel exactly the same. It will happen again. I can’t be with you like that, Tay.”

“Please don’t do this, Jesse.” my voice cracked.

He stared at me coldly.

“I have to.”

I looked at him in disbelief through the tears that were now running freely from my eyes.

“How can you? How can you just stop feeling what you feel for me? How can you just turn it off?”

Jesse gave a little shrug.

“I’ll think of something.”

— —

 

I couldn’t believe how easily someone could go from love to indifference. Jesse began to stay out of the house a lot, and when he was in, he avoided me, suddenly spending hours reading medical publications, or disappearing into the shower the moment I walked into a room. On the rare occasions when he drove me to the hospital, he’d crank up the music volume so loud that talking was out of the question.

I started to sit outside on my own at break times. Other than Jesse, I had no other friends at the hospital - in fact, I had no other friends, period. Jesse had been my only link to the Outside and now that the link was broken, I felt cut out again, as if an invisible barrier had come between me and his world.

My brothers tried their best to comfort me, listening to me going through my feelings over and over, berating myself for what I’d done, calling myself an idiot and a coward and all sorts of other things. Of course, they took my side and insisted that I hadn’t done anything that bad. After all, they reminded me, we’d shared a bed all our lives, which made sleeping with a stranger weird for us. Jesse was being unreasonable, they argued; he’d known all the way along that I came from a different world, and as such, he shouldn’t have expected me to act within the Outside’s rules.

I knew my brothers were trying to help, but deep down I couldn’t lay all the blame on Jesse. So when they offered to speak to him, I asked them not to. Besides, I didn’t want to ruin their friendship with him and I certainly didn’t want him to feel even more awkward in his own home.

“Give him a few days.” Isaac had said. “He’ll come round. He can’t keep avoiding you forever.”

 

Well, apparently he could. After two weeks of the silent treatment, I couldn’t take it anymore: maybe the time had come to take up our father’s offer to pay for a place of our own.

I waited to broach the subject to my brothers one morning over breakfast, knowing that Jesse wouldn’t be back for hours - if he wasn’t on shift, he’d be at the hospital gym, where he seemed to spend most of his free time these days.

I mentioned it casually, as I put hot plates of bacon and eggs in front of them. I’d made the portions especially large, that morning.

“Moving out seems a bit premature to me, Tay.” Isaac said after listening to my idea with an increasingly deep frown on his face.

“And remember last time we talked about moving out. It was Jesse who told us to stay.” Zac said.

“Yes but that was before I fucked things up.” I said. “Now he’s probably hoping that we move out but of course, he’s never going to tell us. He’s not an asshole.”

“Well he’s being an asshole to you.” Zac said in between mouthfuls.

“He’s not, Zac. I’m the one who behaved badly.”

“Tay, we’ve been through this. He should get over it. You didn’t spend the night with him: big fucking deal. He should stop acting like a girl and move on.”

Isaac and I exchanged looks.

“Since when do you know about girls…?” I said, glad that my younger brother couldn’t see the grin on my face.

Zac shrugged.

“I just do. Anyway, he should be a man and accept that he can’t just have you all for himself. We’re okay sharing you so why can’t he do the same? It’s pathetic.”

“I guess it’s hard for Outsiders to live like we do, Zac.” Isaac said.

“The fact remains that Jesse hasn’t spoken to me for days and is clearly avoiding me.” I went on. “I can’t see how things are going to go back to normal any time soon. How can we keep living in his house, like this?”

Isaac stared into the coffee that was rapidly cooling in front of him. I waited, knowing that it was rare for my brother to go quiet unless he was mulling over something.

After a while, I couldn’t take his silence anymore.

“Ike? Is there anything you want to say?”

He let out a long sigh and looked up from the cup.

“I don’t know Tay. He loves you, you love him. Moving out seems kind of …counter-intuitive.”

“But what else can we do? This is hurting everybody. Me, him, the two of you!” I couldn’t help raising my voice.

“I know. I’m just saying…let’s think about it. Let’s not make a rash decision.”

“Also, the trial is starting next week. Maybe it’s not the best time to think about moving out.” Zac added.

I groaned. I kept forgetting about the trial - as if my mind was trying to pretend that it wasn’t really happening. To say that the idea made me anxious was an understatement.

“We could think about it when it’s all over? Who knows, maybe by then Jesse will have come round and you’ll be spending entire nights in his bed.” Isaac said.

“Hey, now.” Zac said, turning his face to Isaac. My brother might have been blind but he could certainly still throw dirty looks when he wanted to.

“Okay, let’s wait and see how things go until the trial is over. You’re right, we have enough to deal with right now.”

 

— — —

 

It was already late in afternoon when Jesse’s name flashed up on the phone. For a moment I stood frozen on the spot, caught between hoping he was calling to talk to me and knowing that Jesse never called from work when he was on shift - he always texted.

“Jesse?”

“They found out.”  

“What? Who?”

“The media. I’ve just had a call from CANAAN Live at 5 offering me a good deal if I gave them an exclusive interview. They said that if I did, they wouldn’t send their reporters to the house until tomorrow.”

I let that sink in for a moment.

“What did you say to them?”

Jesse’s voice carried no hesitation. “I told them to go fuck themselves.”

My stomach tightened, and I instinctively glanced at the front door.

“Tay? Are you still there?”

“Yeah.”

“Are Zac and Isaac there?”

I let out a strangled ‘yes’.

“Good. Don’t open the door to anyone.”

“What about you? What are you going to do?”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can. I have to go and report to Human Resources now.”

“Why?”

“Because when I told them that I wasn’t prepared to talk to them they called the hospital and told them I was connected with the Flock trial.”

“Jesse, I’m sorry-”

“Tay, it doesn’t matter. Now, put the phone down and call Richter.”

 

— — —

 

By the time Richter arrived, a media crew had set up camp outside the building. The van sporting the CANAAN Live at 5 logo was parked across the road, its oversize satellite dish ready to capture the tiniest glimpse of action coming from our anonymous-looking walk-up apartment building.

“Let’s just clarify one thing: nobody spoke to anyone in the media, correct?” Richter asked as soon as the front door was firmly shut behind him.

“No, nobody said anything.”

My brothers mumbled something in assent. They weren’t too happy that I’d dragged them away from a job at Mrs Krasowski’s, who, as usual, had been feeding them large pieces of home-baked pie.

“And we’re absolutely sure that Dr Adams didn’t say anything.” Richter insisted.

“I told you, he told them to go fuck themselves, and now he’s in trouble and might lose his job.”

Richter’s face relaxed.

“Good, that’s good, yes. How did the communication take place?”

“The…what?” Sometimes I truly had no idea of what he was talking about.

Richter tightened his lips and glared at me.

“What phone was he calling from? His own cellphone?” he said, a little more slowly than necessary.

“Yeah, what else?” I said. I was beginning to lose my patience; the place was under siege by the media and there was Richter, asking me really obvious questions.

“Good. That’s a secure line.”

“Is it?” Isaac asked.“Since when?”

“Since when I’ve been assigned to you. I’m glad Dr Adams didn’t use a hospital phone.”

“Great, so, what are we going to do now?” I asked.

“First, you’re going to check that the blinds and curtains have been closed in every room.”

“And then what?” Zac asked.

Richter took his cellphone out of his jacket’s inside pocket.

“Then we’re going to tell the President.”

 

— —

 

“Yes, Sir. Done. You’re on speakerphone now.” Richter said, after tapping the phone screen. For the last couple of minutes we’d listened to him reporting to the President, trying to guess what our father could be saying on the other end the phone.

“Well, this is rather unfortunate. I had hoped that we could keep your identity secret at least until the trial.” the President’s voice came on without further introductions. “Does Dr Adams have any idea of how they press found out?”

“I don’t think so. He didn’t say, anyway.” I said.

“Hmm. We’ll dig into that. For now, we have to focus on keeping you safe as you’re the key witnesses to the trial. You’ll need a full security team with you 24/7. Richter will organise a security detail.”

“But-” I protested.

“That will apply to Dr Adams, too.” The President continued.

“What about his job?” I asked.

“His job is the least of our concerns at the moment.” the President said. “The priority now is to make sure the four of you make it into that courtroom next week so that we can steer the media focus away from you and onto the Church.”

“And then…after the trial is over, then what?” Zac asked.

“Hi Zac.” our father said, his voice noticeably warmer. “After the trial…I suppose you can all make a fresh start. I can help you resettle somewhere-”

“You want us to move again ?” Zac said.

“Zac, I appreciate that you’ve made the City your home but…you’ll be better off somewhere else where nobody knows you.”

“I’m not going into Witsex like Mom!” Zac snapped.

Richter’s mouth twitched.  

“ WITSEC .” Our father chuckled. “I’m not talking about witness protection. Your situation doesn’t call for that. But once the trial is over you will need to seriously consider putting some distance between yourselves and the City.”

“But-” Zac interrupted.

“Zac, I could have had you moved to a secure location already, but I didn’t want to put you through more change, so soon. But after the trial, you’ll have to be prepared because I can’t completely gag the media. This is CANAAN, not The United Korean Nations.”

After speaking to the President, I sank down onto the couch. I felt… defeated. Everything we knew was being ripped out from us. Leaving the City meant leaving Jesse, and losing the only place that had felt like home in a long time.

“Tay, are you okay?” Isaac asked softly.

My voice cracked.

“We’re going to have to leave again.”

“Let’s deal with that when we come to it. Come on, I’ll make some coffee.” he said, squeezing my arm.

“Why do we even bother, anyway? Why do we try and have a life when clearly it’s never going to happen for us? We’re just going to have to keep running, even if we’re not at the Compound anymore…we might as well be.”

“You don’t mean that.” Isaac said.

“Why? What do we have here that is so much better? Don’t tell me that we’re free because we’re fucking not!”

“Well, at least I’m not locked up in a cell here.” Zac said. “Well, I’m locked up in an apartment, currently. Still, much nicer.”

Just in that moment, my cellphone buzzed with a message notification. I unlocked the screen to read.

“Is that from Jesse?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah.” I breathed out.

“What is it?” Zac asked.

“He says he’s on his way home now. He had a meeting with his bosses. He’s been suspended.”

 

— — —

 

Cries of ‘Dr Adams! Dr Adams! Jesse!’ signalled Jesse’s arrival. I lifted one of the slats in the blinds and peered outside.

“Taylor, step away from the window.” Richter said, appearing behind me.

“Sorry. But Jesse is getting eaten alive out there, can’t you… do something?

“No. Please, go in the kitchen and stay away from the front door.”

“Whatever you say, Max.” I huffed. I didn’t care if a reporter managed to get a picture of me. Things couldn’t get much worse than they already were.

“Is he here?” Isaac looked at me anxiously as I walked into the kitchen.

“He’s trying to get past the mob.” I said.

“He’s going to be in a great mood…” Zac said, biting into a cookie. I picked up the packet, which I knew Isaac had only opened a little while earlier after speaking with the President: it was almost empty. Someone had been comfort-eating.

The front door slammed, followed by Jesse’s voice, cursing loudly.

I put the cookies packet back on the table and poked my head through the door. Jesse was standing in the hallway, still wearing his hospital-issued pale blue scrubs.

“Fucking hell.” he said, dropping his bag to the floor.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“It’s fucking insane out there.” he said, walking into the kitchen. He looked stunned, his pupils so wide that his eyes looked almost black.

“I’m putting together a security detail now. They’ll keep the media away - well, at least away from your front door.” Richter said.

Jesse’s eyes widened.

“A security detail?”

Richter tilted his chin up in my direction.

“Taylor, would you like to update Dr Adams on the situation?”

“The situation? What situation - I’ve just been suspended from the hospital until further notice. I thought that was the situation.”

“I’ll make some more coffee.” Isaac volunteered.

“There are still some cookies left…” Zac said sheepishly, sliding the almost empty packet on the table in Jesse’s direction.

Jesse smiled weakly.

“Sure…maybe a sugar hit will help.” he said. He extracted a cookie from the packet and took a bite.

Over coffee, I tried to relay the President’s exact words from our earlier conversation as best as I could. Jesse listened, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“So, it looks like I’m not going to be able to return to work any time soon.” he asked Richter.

“No.”

Jesse let out a bitter laugh.

“Well this is fucking awesome. There goes my medical career.”

“Your career is not at risk.” Richter said.

“Oh no, of course it’s not. The President will take care of things. Just like he kept the media off my back. Look how that worked out. Imagine if the President of CANAAN didn’t have my back!”

Richter crossed his arms and fixed me with a look. I shrugged. Jesse had a point, after all. So far the President’s influence hadn’t been much help.

“I’m sorry.  That was out of line. I’m just…tired.” Jesse said, cutting through the heavy silence. He ran his hands through his hair. “This is all a bit too much.”

“So, what exact reason did they give you for suspending you?” Richter changed the subject.

“They said that they couldn’t have that kind of media attention on a member of staff, because it would put patients at risk…” Jesse spread out his fingers in a kind of ‘who knows’ gesture.  “And there will need to be an investigation on my improper use of hospital resources.”

“You treated us when we had no papers, is that even a crime?” I said.

“Not to mention that, by breaking those rules, you probably saved Zac’s life and eventually, that lead to the Compound getting shut down.” Isaac added.

“You tell them, Ike.” Jesse said.

“I’ll speak to your trial attorney. She’ll be able to recommend an employment lawyer. Did they say anything else?” Richter said.

“They said that it had come to their attention that I was having a relationship with a member of staff. And that’s against hospital rules - unless it’s been cleared with HR first.” Jesse said, almost to himself.

It took me a couple of seconds to grasp that he was referring to me. A hot flush spread to my face.

“Wait, we’re not even…I mean - this is crazy. We’ve…-” I stopped myself from saying ‘we’ve had sex, once’.

“I know.” Jesse said.

“Maybe I should go and make some phone calls.” Richter said, after taking one last gulp of coffee.

“No, Max - wait.” I said. “Stay. Please. You might as well know the truth. Which is not exactly what the hospital say but …”

Richter put his cup down and seemed to consider his words for a moment.

“Taylor, I’m fully aware that there’s something going on between the two of you, although clearly it’s not going too well.”

“You …do?”

“No offence, but only an idiot would fail to notice.” Richter said, one corner of his mouth lifting into something resembling a smile.

Isaac chuckled.

I shot my brother a look.

“Ike!”

“He’s got a point.” Isaac countered.

“But it’s not - I mean-”

I didn’t want to say, it’s not what you think, we’re not having a relationship. Because the truth was that I desperately wanted to have a relationship with Jesse. But nothing had happened, apart from that one night. We’d had sex. That was it.

“Tay, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter what actually happened, at this point. Or when. It’s all …a fucking mess.”

“And we’ve landed you right into it. Or I did, anyway.” I said. I hadn’t expected Jesse to come to my rescue.

“It’s not your fault. It takes two to tango.” he said.

“To …what?” Zac asked.

Jesse’s face relaxed for a moment, and he smiled.

“To tango . It’s a dance.”

“Dr Adams, do you have any idea of who could have told the hospital about you two?” Richter cocked his head to one side, looking at us as if he had been pursuing a separate line of thought in his head while we were busy talking.

“I have my suspicions.” Jesse gave me a pointed look.

“Who?” I said.

“Who has known you since Blue City? And who also knew that you were in the Flock, and saw us working together at the hospital?” Jesse asked, his eyes still fixed on mine.

Slowly, I started to put the pieces together..

“No…it can’t be…”

Richter looked at me questioningly.

“You guys mean…” Isaac said.

My words came out fast.

“Dylan. It was Dylan.”

-- -- 

I told Richter about Dylan and of our friendship back at Blue City, up until his sudden reappearance at the hospital months later. I couldn’t believe he was back on the scene, again.

“Assuming it was this Dylan guy - does he know anything else that could be problem?” Richter asked.

“He doesn’t know anything about the President, if that’s what you mean.” I said.

Jesse shot me a concerned look.

“But there’s something else, right?” Richter said.

I shook my head, and let out a hollow laugh.

“There’s the part about turning tricks with him until he almost got me killed. I guess I ought to have mentioned that, too.”

“Does the President know about any of this?” Richter asked, apparently unperturbed.

“We told him about Dylan…I didn’t go into too much detail though. I think he probably guessed.” I said.

“Okay. We have to assume that he would have told that side of the story to the media, too.” Richter said.

“Brilliant.” Jesse said.

“Why did he have to do that? We didn’t do anything to him - he’s the one who landed you in hospital with a broken rib!” Zac said.

“Money.” the rest of us all said at the same time.

“How?” Zac asked.

“He would have been paid a hefty sum for a story about such a high profile case.” Richter said. “He probably saw the news about the Compound and the upcoming trial and saw an opportunity.”

“Sounds like Dylan.” I said.

“So…basically, I’m screwed, right? The media will have a field day with the story and the hospital will never let me live it down.” Jesse said matter-of-factly. “The ER Doctor and the former cult member-” he didn’t finish his sentence, but I knew that what he was about to add was prostitute . I didn’t know much about a hospital’s staff policy but I was fairly certain that his connection to a street whore wouldn’t go down too well.

“Max, is there really nothing the President can do?”

“It’s too late. Besides, it would raise suspicion if suddenly orders came ‘from above’ to kill the story. Journalists aren’t stupid. The President can’t be dragged into this.”

“Oh, but it’s ok for him to be dragged into this!” I said.

“Leave it, Tay.” Jesse said.

“What we can do,” Richter said, crossing his arms. “is some damage limitation - and I would take our conversation with the President as assurance that your career is not at risk. You’ll have to ride this out for now. It won’t be forever.”

Jesse stared at Richter for a moment, before he broke into a bitter laugh.

“I’m sorry but….I worked really hard to get to where I am. I did it all by myself. Now let me make this clear: I don’t want the President’s assurance. I don’t want to be indebted to a politician for the rest of my life. I’ll ride this out, as I have no choice about it, but after this - I’m done. I’ll find another hospital without Charlton McAllister’s precious help. If not in CANAAN, somewhere else.”

A pang of dread shot through me. Suddenly, I felt that all air had been sucked out of my lungs.

“What do you mean, somewhere else?” I managed to say.

“I mean that, maybe when the trial is over, it’s time for me to go back to Australia.”

“You cannot be serious.” Isaac said.

“Why? What’s keeping me here?”

I opened my mouth to speak but Zac got there first.

“Us,” he said, “you’ve got us.”

“Not for much longer, by the sound of things. Your father has made it perfectly clear that you’ll need to move somewhere else after the trial. There’ll be nothing left for me here.”

“You can move too. There are hospitals everywhere around the country. There’ll be one where we move to.” I said.

“And then what? How long before someone digs up the story again and I get fired again?”

“You haven’t been fired yet.” Isaac said.

“It’s a matter of time.”

“So is that it? Is that what you’re going to do, give up on everything, pack your bags and go home? I thought you’d said you liked CANAAN.  And I thought you cared about us. You’re like a brother to us. I thought you felt the same!” Zac said, his eyes fixed somewhere on Jesse’s face.

“Of course I care about you.” Jesse said, his voice a notch softer.

“If you do, then why do you want to leave us?” my younger brother countered.

Richter pushed his chair back, the sound of metal scraping on the floor forcing us to stop talking for a moment.

“Well, I have some phone calls to make.”

As Richter left the room, we lapsed into silence. Even if only hours earlier I’d been the one suggesting that we move out, the prospect of living without Jesse was now brutally real. And now I knew that I didn’t want to lose him, and I didn’t want my brothers to lose him, either. If that meant just being friends, with nothing physical ever happening between us again, that would have to do. We could go back to how things used to be before. We had to.

“Listen Jesse, if this is about you and me -” I stared into the empty coffee mug as I spoke, trying to steady my voice.“…please don’t do this. I’ll get over it. We’ll both get over it - we can be friends. Zac is right, we’re like brothers. You’re part of our family. Please don’t throw it all away.”

Jesse’s hair fell over his face and he turned away. When he looked at me again, his eyes were wet with tears.

“You’ll get over me alright, Taylor. You have them.” - he gestured at my brothers. “The thing is - I don’t know if I can get over you.”

 

~**~**~**~**~**

 

I steeled myself and knocked at the door.

“Can I come in?” I asked, trying to keep my voice low. I didn’t want my brothers to hear me.

After our conversation in the kitchen, Jesse had made an excuse about needing a shower and had disappeared into his room. Taylor had put the TV on and was pretending to watch something, when in fact he was staring blankly at the screen while Zac worked his way through a massive bag of potato chips. Everyone was miserable, but no one was doing anything about it. I had to do something: I was still the older brother, after all. Talking sense into Jesse would be a start.

I rapped my knuckles on the door again.

“Come on, Jesse. It’s me, Isaac. Open the door.”

I heard some movement coming from the inside, until he finally came to the door wearing grey drawstring pants and a white t-shirt, his hair still wet from the shower.

“What is it, Ike.” he said. His eyes were rimmed red and bloodshot.

“Can I come in?”

“Ike, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m tired.”

“Please.” I insisted, putting the palm of my hand flat on the door.

Jesse sighed and opened his mouth as if to object, but my hand remained on the door.

“Fine.” he said at last, opening the door wider and shuffling aside to let me pass.

When we were alone, Jesse planted himself in front of me, his arms crossed.

“So, what do you want.” he said that in a tone that was a statement, not a question.

I crossed my arms too.

“You’re an idiot.” I said.

Jesse lifted his eyebrows and stuck his bottom lip out.

“Well, thank you for giving me such an articulate assessment of my personality, Isaac. Anything else?”

“You really have no idea of how much Taylor loves you. He’s totally broken up about you. How can you say shit like ‘you’ll get over it but I won’t’. You have no fucking clue.”

“Maybe you should stay out of things you don’t understand, Ike.”

“Oh I understand this, very, very well, trust me.”

Jesse smiled crookedly.

“Sorry, I forgot that you waited patiently in the wings until you finally got included in the circle of love.”

I glared at him. It wasn’t like Jesse to stoop so low.

“That hit a nerve, didn’t it?”

“I’m going to pretend for a moment that you didn’t say any of that. You’re upset and pissed off, I get it. And I understand what it feels like to be rejected and excluded. But you know, Jesse, sometimes you need to work at things. Things that are worth fighting for. You and Taylor, you have something worth fighting for.”

“Spare me the romantic bullshit, Ike. You know as well as I do that there can be no ‘me and Taylor’ - not when he’d rather run back to his brothers at the earliest opportunity.”

“For fuck’s sake, get over yourself!” I half-shouted. “He came back to sleep with us, yes. He left you there without a word, yes. It was a dumb thing to do. He made a mistake, because …he was out of his depth, he’s never cared for anyone else other than me and Zac. Men have treated him like shit all his life, Jesse. He’s not used to this.”

“I’m not used to … this either, Ike. It’s not a very common situation to find yourself in, as you can imagine.” Jesse swept his eyes around the room, as if he could somehow find a solution there and then, written on the walls.

“Well then, maybe you can cut him some slack then.” I said, sensing an opening.

Jesse exhaled slowly as he let himself drop onto the bed.

“I can’t see how it’s ever going to work out. Even if he didn’t think much about going back to bed with you, it just shows. How you and Zac will always come first. Am I just going to be the spare wheel for when you two are busy? Or are we going to draw a timetable?” he scoffed.

I sat down next to him.

“I don’t know how you can make it work but I’m sure there’s a way. He loves you. And you love him. You told him you loved him.”

“I love him, but he can’t give me what I want.”

“Which is, what?”

“A normal relationship. You know, like ordinary people have?”

“Ordinary people. Right.” I nodded.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, you knew we weren’t ordinary people. You knew how things were between us. That didn’t stop you from taking a bite though, did it? You wanted him, because let’s face it, who doesn’t? You had to have him, you got what you wanted, and then at the first thing he did that you didn’t like, you ditched him. You’ve used him. Just like everybody else.” There , I thought. That should sting .

“Hang on, that’s a bit unfair. I haven’t used him. We both knew what we were doing that night. I’m not an arsehole.”

“You have a nice way of showing it.” I said with a bitter laugh.

“I’m just trying not to get hurt any further.”

“By hurting him? And giving him the silent treatment? Fuck, Jesse, can you not see how cruel that is? He’s had feelings for you for …ages. You can’t just click your fingers and expect him to turn them off, on command. Maybe you can do that, but he can’t. And I couldn’t either. We might not be ‘ordinary people’ but we have feelings.”

Jesse leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. I mirrored his movements, turning my eyes back down to the floor. Maybe I was getting through him, at last. I waited, forcing myself to give him some time. I just needed to be patient, for a little longer. Let him talk , I told myself. Let him talk .

“I’d never intentionally hurt Taylor. Never.” Jesse finally said in a slow, deliberate voice.

I nodded my head, but didn’t interrupt him.

He continued.

“I thought I could deal with the situation between…the three of you. I thought I could handle it. Before…you know. The problem was… afterwards. When I woke up and he wasn’t there, and I realised he’d chosen to spend the night with the two of you rather than me. It hurt. I didn’t know I was going to feel that way, I swear. It just fucking hurt.”

I let a moment tick by.

“You know, Zac wasn’t thrilled with the idea that Taylor was in bed with you, either. But he understood. He’s not as selfish as he used to be.” I finally said.

Jesse let out a short laugh. “He’s come a long way since I first met him, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah. He used to be very demanding of Taylor’s attentions…even when maybe it wasn’t the right time. He didn’t know what went on at the Club House so he didn’t understand that sometimes Taylor needed some space.”

“He didn’t know?” Jesse turned to look at me, his eyes wide with surprise.

“No. I told him the night when you brought Taylor back to the camp.”

Jesse looked away again.

“Bloody hell.”

“Maybe we should have told him. I don’t know. We were just trying to spare him some of the…” I shrugged, searching for the right word.

“Ugliness?” Jesse offered.

“I guess so. The ugliness.”

“There’s always time for that. For ugliness.”

“Maybe.”

We sat side by side in silence for a little while longer. Now that I’d managed to get through to him, it was nice to talk to Jesse like we’d always done, like friends, like almost-brothers. Even if I didn’t have the same type of relationship Taylor had with him, I knew that I’d miss him terribly if he went back to Australia.

“I’ve been an arsehole, haven’t I.” Jesse said after a while.

“Yeah.”

“But…I honestly don’t know what to do now. Everything is …fucked up. It’s a mess.” he said, rubbing the palm of his hand with the opposite thumb.

“Everything is fixable, Jesse.”

“Really? I’m not so sure. I’m probably going to lose my job. My name is going to end up plastered all over the papers. You’re going to have to move away. And even if we tried to have some kind of normal relationship…how is it going to work out in the long term? I mean, seriously, are we going to move to a big farm somewhere and all share Taylor among ourselves and live happily ever after? Like a bunch of Mormon wives?”

“Mormon wives?”

“It’s a religion. Some of them practice polygamy. One husband, lots of wives.”

“So…that would make Taylor the husband?” I said, a grin spreading across my face.

“Yeah. I know. It sounds a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

“It does. Taylor’s more like the mom type.”

“But you know what I mean, though, don’t you? I mean, seriously.”

“I do. I mean, I don’t know how it can work out. Nobody knows, and you’re right about all the crap happening now, it’s just another layer of complications. But what I’m saying is…don’t give up on him just yet. He’s worth more than that. He’s worth more than just a one night stand. At least talk to him. Don’t shut him out anymore. He’s hurting too.”

“I’ll talk to him,” he said, his eyes fixed on the floor. “But I can’t promise you that it will make everything better. I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know if I’ll still want to stick around after the trial, Isaac.”

“But you’ll talk to him?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Right.” I stood up. “I’m going to go and get him then.”

A look of horror flashed on his face.

“Now?” he gasped.

“Yes, now. Before you change your mind. And then we’ll all go to bed feeling better.”

Jesse spread his hands and let them drop back on his thighs.

“Fine. I guess I don’t have a say in the matter.”

“No. You haven’t.” I said.

I had my hand on the door when I turned around.

“What Zac said earlier. It’s the truth, you know. You’re like a brother to us. We love you, too. We kinda hoped that you felt the same for us.”

“Of course I do.” Jesse said.

I studied his face, looking for signs that he was being anything other than sincere. It was hard to tell, and I wasn’t the smartest guy when it came to reading people. That will have to do , I thought.

“I hope so.” I said. “Anyway. I’ll go and get Taylor.”

— — —

 

I’d been in bed for a while, reading to Zac, when Taylor crept back into our room.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d still be awake.” he said.

“Zac keeps asking for one more chapter.” I said, turning the book face down on my lap.

“It’s a good book.” Zac piped up.

“So how did it go?” I asked.

“Well…” Taylor said, climbing on the bed. “We talked. He said he was sorry. He said he never meant to hurt me.”

“Do you believe him?” Zac asked.

Taylor lay down on his side, resting his head on his hand.

“Yeah, I do. I think he means it.”

“Good. So what happens now?” I said.

“I don’t know. We’ll wait and see, I guess.”

“Well, did you do anything with him?” Zac said.

“Zac!” I said.

“What? Don’t pretend you don’t want to know, Ike.”

“Um…” I met Taylor’s eyes and laughed.

“It’s fine…um, we just kissed. I think things could have …you know, carried on but I stopped it. I told him, until he’s sure of what he wants to do, I think it’s best if we don’t…you know. So nobody gets hurt.”

“You mean, nobody gets hurt even more .” Zac said.

“Yeah. Exactly. Nobody gets hurt even more.”

 

— — —

 

I knew that Taylor was after something when he said ‘scoot over’ and climbed over Zac, placing himself in between our younger brother and me. At first I was worried that he was upset. In the semi-darkness, I searched my brother’s eyes for signs of trouble, but I knew from the way he looked back at me that it wasn’t the moment for more questions.

When I felt his hand on the nape of my neck, drawing me into a kiss, I was ready to give Taylor whatever he wanted: love, tenderness, comfort, a release from whatever had happened earlier with Jesse.

I didn’t need reasons or explanations, and by the look of it, neither did Zac: like me, he eagerly accepted the invitation of our brother’s open arms. We were happy to share him between us, comfortably treading that fine line between generosity and greed. We’d had some practice by now, anyway. Whether our brother was thinking of Jesse while Zac and I made love to him, it didn’t matter; we were the ones who’d always be there for him, unconditionally. There’d never be a silent treatment to follow, or an awkward moment, or some stupid misunderstanding that couldn’t be cleared by a few stern brotherly words. Maybe we couldn’t fix what someone else had broken, but we could make it better - we could make our brother stop hurting for a little while. Between the two of us, we knew how to make him feel good. And judging by the sounds our brother was making as we took turns to bring him closer to the edge, our plan was working.

Afterwards, when we were all spent, Taylor fell asleep between us, taking up Zac’s usual sleeping spot. In all the years we’d shared a bed together, I’d never felt so close to them. I tried to resist sleep to consciously enjoy the moment; to carry on feeling the warmth radiating from our bodies, still damp with sweat, too tired to move, our arms and legs still entangled together. But my eyes were feeling heavier and heavier, and I knew that was a battle I wasn’t going to win.

When we woke up the next morning, everyone in CANAAN knew our names.

Chapter Text

The Anderson Brothers. The Ones Who Escaped. Survivors Against All Odds. Those were just some of the headlines I’d seen on news sites in the days leading up to the trial. The actual content of those articles was even worse, especially when it revolved around me and my job at the Club House.

“Why do people care about this stuff?” I’d asked Richter the first time I stumbled across a particularly sensational article. “What went on at the Detox Center was far worse. I was never locked up and tied to a bed.”

“Sex sells.” Richter had said, without looking up from his tablet.

As the days went by, I realised what he’d meant. The whole story had taken a turn from ‘religious cult’ to ‘religious cult in sex scandal’, with endless reports about the Club House and those involved. Whatever else had happened at the Compound clearly was not as interesting as the tales of teenage boys servicing their Church’s army of Officers, as told by none other than Dylan in an exclusive interview with CANAAN Live at 5.

Back when I thought we were friends, I’d opened up to Dylan - something that I now bitterly regretted, but it was too late. As it turned out, Dylan had a talent for embellishing a story, as his exclusive account of life at the Compound clearly proved. Dylan’s story included detailed accounts of group sex and wild parties where the boys on staff dressed up in high heels and women’s underwear and danced for the officers in exchange for food and drink.

I didn’t know where Dylan had got those ideas from but it was nothing I’d ever experienced during my time there. The truth was a lot more mundane: we had sex with older men - that was it. On a few occasions, when I was younger, I’d had to indulge a particular officer’s fantasy and dress up as a girl, but that wasn’t the norm. Whoever had paid Dylan for his stories obviously didn’t care for the truth. But the people of CANAAN would find out soon enough. The trial was about to start.

— — —

Sasha, our attorney, decided that now that our names were all over the media, it would be best if we were to appear in court after all.

“To maximise the impact of your testimony,’ she said.

Other key witnesses would appear in court while some, including our mother, would be giving their statements via video link. Frobisher and all the high-ranking members of the Church would have to testify in person.

None of us had ever met the General: we’d seen him at ceremonies and other events, but he rarely attended the Club House and then, only for formal functions. As far as I knew, he’d never indulged in the activities that took place upstairs.

As everyone who lived at the Compound knew, wherever Frobisher went, his own team of staffers followed. These were young members who catered for Frobisher’s every whim - pouring his drinks, serving his food, laying out his clothes. Being one of of Frobisher’s ambassadors - as they were called - was considered an honour, and competition to get appointed was fierce. It was something I’d never wished for myself or my brothers, because the General was known to have a volatile temper, and there were stories about him hitting people, including senior staff. But it was a privilege nevertheless, and in a place like the Compound, every little privilege was precious.

— — —

I swore on a leather-bound book that I’d tell nothing but the truth.

I felt my heartbeat pick up as the CoR attorney fired question after question at me. His tone was aggressive and his choice of words implied that I was lying. Sasha had warned me they’d try and turn things against us. “They’re going to go into specifics.” she’d said. “But don’t worry. Just tell them the truth and leave the rest to me.”

The truth. It seemed so easy.

The fact was that my job at the Club House involved having sex with people. I never had a say in it and I did what I had to do. When I was in bed with an officer I could only detach myself from things so much because I had to look like I was into it. You could get away with an off night, once in a while, but all Club House staffers knew that it couldn’t become a regular occurrence, or we’d end up in serious trouble. It could mean RTC: hard labour and above all, weeks, months away from our families. It could mean that any favours I’d managed to obtain - like keeping Zac out of the place - could be revoked. I did what I had to do to survive. We all did.

But wasn’t what the CoR’s attorney wanted to hear.

“Did you or did you not get an erection during your encounters with the officers in question?”

“Yes or no. It’s a simple question, Mr Anderson.”

Nothing but the truth.

“I did.”

— — —

When Layne was called up to the stand, I braced myself for his account of what happened after he helped us escape. When I’d spoken to him again at the Compound, I had a feeling he was holding something back. I was right.

Layne told the courtroom of how the Compound Security had arrested him after discovering that Zac was missing. They interrogated him and beat him for days, but he never gave us away. Eventually, somehow he managed to convince Security that he’d had nothing to do with our escape and they let him go. I actually doubted that Security ever fully bought Layne’s story: his release was more likely the result of his wife’s high rank, as well as the fact that Layne was one of a handful of qualified nurses at the Compound, and among them, he was the most recent recruit. The fact that he still knew how to do his job meant that whenever the high ranks needed a nurse, Layne was called first.

Either way, Layne had been incredibly lucky - without his wife’s connections and his useful skills, he would have ended up in RTC.

— — —

On several occasions during the trial, witnesses had to explain ‘Flock Speak’ to the courtroom. Sometimes translating one of the many CoR acronyms wasn’t enough - such in the case of RTC, the Reformation Task Crew. That had taken some explaining, and for good reasons. For a Flock member, the prospect of being sent to RTC was the ultimate deterrent against rule-breaking, as one of the witnesses tried to impress on a stunned jury. The woman on the witness stand explained that she had been sent to RTC for a minor infraction. RTC, she went on to say, was essentially hard labour. It often consisted in unnecessary work like scraping the inside of a storage tank, digging foundations which the crew would be then asked to fill up again as soon as the task was complete.

To make things worse, people in RTC, as the woman continued, were only allowed one shower a week, and were forced to wear raggedy, dirty overalls - laundry was only allowed every couple of weeks. Crews lived in squalid, cramped conditions, sleeping on thin mats on concrete floors in single-sex, bug-infested dorms. Compared to that, regular Compound housing, such as the tiny apartment my brothers and I had shared, was pure luxury.

Lastly, the witness told the courtroom that RTCs had to run everywhere: if they needed to go from one part of the Compound to another, or needed to use bathroom, or were called to report for duty somewhere else: they had to get there running. In the relentless desert heat, underfed and exhausted, that made their condition even harder to bear. As the woman finished her story on that last shocking note, audible gasps and muttering spread through the courtroom, until a clerk called for silence. I looked across the courtroom, surveying the men and women sitting in the jury box, on every face a variation of stunned disbelief. A woman shook her head repeatedly, laughing incredulously. In his closing statement, the witness’s attorney addressed the courtroom and said that the CoR’s Reformation Task Crew was ‘nothing other than modern slavery’.

— —— —

Eventually it was Jesse’s turn to take the stand.

Earlier that morning, as we waited for our security team to take us to the courthouse, I’d seen him adjust his tie over and over in front of the mirror, his jaw clenched so tight that it made a muscle twitch in his cheek.

But all signs of his earlier nerves had disappeared now. When his name was called, Jesse stood up and walked across the courtroom, calm and self-assured in a dark blue suit. He put his hand on the book as if it was something he did every day and said “I swear”.

Jesse told the courtroom that he knew he was breaking hospital rules when he’d decided to take us into the ER to treat Zac. But he had taken an oath when he graduated from medical school, and because of that, he couldn’t have let our refugee status stand in the way of his duty. In that matter-of-fact tone that I knew so well by now, Jesse described Zac’s injuries as ‘horrific’, adding that our brother had showed early signs of blood poisoning.

It was the cue Sasha had been waiting for.

“In your professional opinion, Dr Adams, were Mr Anderson’s injuries consistent with the kind of ligature marks found on someone who has been held against their will for a prolonged period of time?” she asked.

Jesse looked over at the defendants’ table for a long moment before turning to face the our attorney again.

“Without a doubt,” he said.

In his testimony, Jesse also said something he’d never told us before. After he’d put us in that taxi bound for Blue City, Jesse had second thoughts about letting us leave. He questioned his decision to prescribe a certain type of antibiotic over another, doubting its effectiveness. He worried that Isaac and I wouldn’t do a good job of changing Zac’s dressings and if that was the case, he knew that the infection could get worse. While he was treating Zac, Jesse had tried to think of ways to keep him in, but it was risky, and could have cost him his job.

Jesse said he had regretted that decision since and had sworn to himself that he’d never again put his job security before a patient’s life.

Now everything made sense: how he’d jumped in the car to come and get me in the middle of the night, and how he’d not hesitated to break hospital rules again by sneaking me into a cubicle, where he’d treated me at his own risk. Now I fully understood Jesse’s decision to take us in - as if helping us had been the only choice available.

 

*** *** ***

 

The week before we were due in court, two personal shoppers from one of the City’s most exclusive menswear stores had come over to the apartment, armed with several shiny black carrier bags embossed with the store’s golden logo. Traipsing behind them, announced by the clanking of coat hangers, were two members of our security team, looking none too pleased, their arms covered with folded over zipped-up suit covers.

“You need to look smart in court. Dark suit. White shirt. Black shoes. Nothing brown. Ever.” Richter had said, standing with his arms crossed while one of the men wrapped a measuring tape around my leg. “Even the kind of cheap-ass defence attorneys who advertise in the subway will tell you that.”

I’d never worn a suit before, and now, in the stuffy, overheated courtroom, I felt constricted and uncomfortable. How can people wear these clothes every day? I wondered as I fixed my tie for the umpteenth time. Judging by how seriously Richter had looked as he imparted his style advice, I could have been fooled to think that the outcome of the entire trial rested on the state of my tie.

Trying to look casual, I glanced around the courtroom: every male present was dressed like me, with subtle variations in suit colour - dark grey, blue, black - and in the pattern of their ties. Nearly everybody’s shirt was white. Without a doubt, we really blended in now.

Then, when it was my turn to walk to the witness stand, something peculiar happened: the clothes that only a moment earlier had been constricting my movements, suddenly felt like like an armour -  as if every seam pulled me together, making my skin inches thicker under the stiff layer of fabric. I could tell that I carried myself differently now, like I really belonged. Now I could pass for an Outsider.

I didn’t know all of the upper ranks members who now sat on the opposite side of the courtroom; I only recognised a few, mainly the ones Taylor had told me about for reasons I’d tried and failed to forget. Those same men, in turn, would have been totally oblivious of my existence had our escape not put us on the Church’s radar. At the Compound, there would have been no reason for officers to mix with the average member, especially someone of low rank as me: I was only someone who fixed things. If I was ever called to work in places like the Club House or an officer’s dwelling, they’d barely acknowledge my presence. Now that my brothers and I had caused the collapse of these people’s kingdom, they were forced to take notice. As I took my seat at the stand, only a few steps away from the defendants’ bench, the air in the courtroom felt thick with their contempt for us.

Speaking through their attorney, the CoR’s officers denied everything. It was ‘absurd’, they said, to believe that there no drugs available at the Infirmary - it had been a staff error not to give Zac the right medication. Moreover, those drugs were not exclusively for the use of officers and high ranks: every Flock member had access to the best medical treatment, the other side’s attorney stressed.

I listened in disbelief at the the CoR’s line of defence, which essentially consisted in refusing any involvement or responsibility, shifting the blame instead on lower level members who would have had little choice but to follow orders. The picture painted by the defence was ludicrous, and if I hadn’t been there myself, I would have seriously questioned how the Compound had ever functioned at all, with a leadership that apparently had no idea of what ordinary members were up to.

It was also completely false: most people at the Compound had followed the rules without openly questioning their reasons or logic. I’d been guilty of that too, ignoring a constant, gnawing feeling inside telling me that something wasn’t right. I should have got us out of there sooner, but I’d been afraid. The Compound was surrounded by desert, and I’d been scared of taking my brothers out there. Was it worth dying of thirst while trying to get somewhere else - a place that we only vaguely knew as ‘The Outside’? I wasn’t proud to admit to myself that fear had kept us there, until we had no other choice.

-- -- 

But with every day of the trial that passed, I felt stronger. I made a point of turning to the defendants’ table whenever I had the opportunity, looking them in the eye for little while longer each time. They held no power over me anymore. The fear had gone.

-- -- 

On the day of Frobisher’s testimony, the courtroom was packed. During the days leading to it, the General’s face had been all over the media, with endless documentaries, exclusive reports and televised debates in which experts discussed his life and dissected his personality. I was surprised at how little I knew about Frobisher; I’d never known that he came from a wealthy family outside of the Church. Unlike most of the people he later got to rule over, he had an education, which earned him a place at one of the country’s leading universities, back in the pre-CANAAN days. His degree in Virtual & Augmented Reality got him a job with a major technology corporation, where Frobisher stayed for a few years before joining the CoR. At that time, the Church’s inner structure was in disarray, after the premature death of the Shepherd’s appointed successor. Taking advantage of the gap in leadership, it hadn’t taken very long for a young, ambitious Frobisher to climb the ranks. According to reports, his ruthlessness had successfully eliminated all possible adversaries and under Frobisher’s regime, the CoR had turned from ‘an ultimately harmless hippy cult’ to the Flock that my brothers and I knew.

The Flock my mother had got involved with had been a safe place, a friendly place for a single mom with three small children. There, she’d found a home and acceptance, something that she’d never get in Charlton McAllister’s circles. It was over time that the screws got tightened ever so slowly but ever so constantly, until the place became a prison. I remembered my early childhood as a happy time, but by the time Zac was of school-age, I’d noticed a shift - life had become more difficult for everybody: Frobisher’s reign had begun.

Frobisher, one newspaper wrote, “had turned the CoR into an expression of his own personal delusion of grandeur.” He’d turned the Compound into a military-run citadel, funded on the fees of regular off-site members who attended the Church’s ‘services’ and took the improvement courses at satellite centres scattered all over the country. I’d always wondered why there weren’t more new recruits joining us at the Compound but it was obvious now: only a few, extremely dedicated people were invited to move into the Compound, often, like in Layne’s case, chosen because of the valuable skills they could bring with them. Clearly, those off-site centres were essential to keep the money flowing into the Flock’s coffers; at the same time, selling self-improvement courses to the general public allowed the Church to maintain a veneer of respectability on the Outside, while Frobisher and his people worked on their social experiment in the middle of the desert.

-- -- 

A murmur ran through the courtroom when Frobisher went to take the stand. I’d only ever seen him at official occasions or in photographs, dressed in his General’s uniform. Now, dressed in a plain but expensive-looking dark blue suit, Frobisher still looked the same as I remembered him - smooth, tanned skin and a full head of swept-back golden brown hair. I’d read that he was in his 60s, but in person he looked a lot younger. In a way, he reminded me of the President - powerful, ruthless and above all, rich.

Frobisher didn’t hide behind his attorney and instead took the stand. But like the officers before him, he denied that he’d had anything to do with what had happened to Zac. When his attorney asked him if he knew me and my brothers, he looked over at our table, staring at us with a mixture of contempt and hatred for so long that the judge had to remind him to answer the question. Frobisher told the courtroom that he didn’t recall ever meeting us but that he knew our mother.

“She’s a mentally disturbed woman who shot and killed her own husband in cold blood, so I wouldn’t believe anything her sons have to say.” he added. 

I almost laughed to myself at Frobisher’s statement - he and his wife had been perfectly happy to socialise with that mentally disturbed woman and her husband over the years. His statement bore the trademark strategy of the Church: when you can’t defend, attack - discredit your opponent, make them look dishonest, untrustworthy, insane. I could only hope that by now the Judge and the Jury had recognised a pattern and wouldn’t be easily fooled.

The remainder of Frobisher’s testimony was a joke - he either denied all knowledge or refused to answer the question. Even the Judge looked frustrated, calling for a break the moment Frobisher had left the stand.

— — —

“This is totally pointless. Why bother calling people to testify, if then they don’t even have to answer the questions?” I said, unbuttoning my collar. I’d undone my tie the moment I walked into the breakup room. I couldn’t get used to the feeling of that thing strangling me.

“It’s the law,” Sasha said, giving me one of her I’m trying to be patient looks. “Nobody can force you to say anything. Trust me, that’s a good thing, ultimately.”

“So…they’re just going to carry on denying everything? And do they expect the jury to believe them?” I asked.

“Yes,” Sasha said, after taking a long sip of her coffee. “They know the evidence is stacked against the Church, but is not directly leading to them. If they deny all knowledge, there’s a chance that they will get a reduction on the severity of the sentence.”

“Well, someone has to be responsible. If they’d given Zac some medication, maybe he wouldn’t be walking with a cane now.” Taylor said.

“That’s not going to fix my eyesight anyway.” Zac shrugged.

“Yeah, I know but there has to be some sort of justice, Zac.” Taylor said.

“Guy, you need remember that our goal is for the Church to be shut down. Whether Frobisher and his cronies end up in jail - that’s a different story. If they do, they will appeal anyway, they have the resources. But they won’t be allowed to carry on what they’re doing anymore.” Sasha said.

“Do you think we’ll win then? I mean, will the Church be shut down?” I asked.

Sasha raised her eyebrows at me, her mouth curving into a broad smile.

“Isaac, the Church of Reconstruction was over the moment President McAllister sent the special forces into the Compound. This whole trial-” Sasha waved her hand with a little flourish, “this is just theatre.”

 

*** *** ***

I’d walked over to the stand by myself, probing the space in front of me with my cane until I heard Sasha’s say ‘now stop’ in a low voice. It was my cue to take her arm and let her help me climb the two steps leading to the witness stand. We’d practiced it several times before in the breakup room, with a chair in place of the stand. I knew most people felt pity towards me: my story was all over the news, and I was always described as ‘the blind one’.

But I was done with being a victim, and I wanted to show everybody that I was perfectly able to walk across a room without help. As I took the oath, I turned my head to the side of the courtroom where the CoR and their attorney sat. I’d got their exact position from my brothers beforehand so that I could get the angle exactly right. I knew that the way blind people stare could be uncomfortable for some; it was one of the things I’d learnt at the Sight Centre. I was supposed to bring it up with the other person and acknowledge their discomfort and help them overcome their embarrassment.

Overcome this, I thought, and fixed my eyes on the blurry shapes of the CoR officers who had ruined my life.

— —

Finally it was our mother’s turn to give her testimony from a secret location in Witness Protection. They’d set up large video screens all around the courtroom, one right in front of our table, close enough for me to see the faint glow emanating from it.

As I heard my mother’s voice I closed my eyes, to shut out all distractions - the screen, the lights, the people in the courtroom. I tried to bring up the most vivid picture of her in my mind, trying to ignore the pang of resentment rising from somewhere inside me: Frobisher and the officers could see her while I had to make do with her voice and my memories.

When I felt Taylor’s hand on my arm, I willed myself to keep it together. Earlier, Sasha had told us that our mother would have been able to see us from her screen and I didn’t want to disappoint her. She’d be proud of us now, all smartly dressed in brand new suits, doing the right thing, standing up for ourselves and for the people we’d grown up with.

She answered every question in a calm, steady voice, as if she was running a processing exercise, or talking about her plans for the day. I pictured my mother as I’d last remembered her, her smooth, freckly skin, her face almost expressionless, as if the person behind those blue eyes had gone, replaced by some kind of machine programmed to go along with everything the Church dictated. All through my childhood and my teenage years, I felt I couldn’t get through to her, and would do my best to push her buttons and get a reaction, trying to get her attention, even if that would make her yell at me. I’d tried and failed to shake her out of that state.

Now, as I listened to my mother talk about her decision to betray the Church and help the authorities, I tried to imagine what a huge and terrifying choice it must have been: she could have ended up at the Detox Center or in RTC. I’d never thought that my mother was brave - until now. And, just like her, my brothers had shown that kind of courage when they planned our escape. Courage was a family trait I never knew we had, a hidden strength that we found when all other options had run out. After all those years when I felt I couldn’t reach her, when we were like strangers living together, I could see that our courage was the connecting bond; that we were our mother’s sons.

When the attorney asked her why she had killed her own husband, there was no hint of emotion in my mother’s voice. 

“Because he raped my son.”

My mother’s words were like a punch in the stomach - the word ‘rape’ was blunt and final, with no room for misunderstanding. Rape was the was the kind of thing that happened to other people, and yet it was exactly what DuVall and the others had done to my brother, over and over, for years.

“Yes, I did.” my mother told the attorney who had asked her if she had also known about the others.

“Did you try and stop it?” the attorney carried on.

“No, I did not.” 

I could only guess what the people in the courtroom were thinking at that point. Why didn’t she do anything sooner, why did she allow all those men to abuse her son and then killed her own husband for doing the same? To me, it was simple: discovering that DuVall, Lawrence, had slept with Taylor, had been too close for comfort, something too personal and horrific for my mother to ignore. Not that anyone else’s opinion mattered, anyway. There was only one person who had the right to judge my mother, and that was Taylor. And I knew that he had already forgiven her.

— —

It took three days for the jury to reach a decision. On the day of the verdict, as we prepared to step out of the breakup room, Taylor gathered us into a circle.

“You too, Jesse,” he insisted. We put our arms around each other and shared a long, quiet moment, our silence charged with a mixture of anxiety, dread and anticipation.

“We’re nearly there.” Isaac said after a while. “Nearly there.”

As we were leaving the room, Sasha stopped us.

“Hold on. Quality control.”

One by one, she straightened our ties and brushed the sleeves of our jackets with her hand. That small, tender gesture moved me, and I fought hard to blink away my tears as Sasha brushed invisible specks of dust from our suits. I stood still, waiting patiently until she had satisfied herself that we looked presentable.

“Okay, you’re all good to go now,” Sasha said at last, standing to one side to let us pass.

Nearly there.

—  —

Less than an hour later, it was all over.

We left the courthouse by the main entrance this time. At the top of the steps, we stopped, so that Sasha could address the crowd waiting outside. Flashing lights went off all around us, and people I couldn’t see called my name, asking me to look in their direction. A female voice rose over the others, asking how we felt about the verdict. Sasha answered for us, reciting a short speech that she had prepared earlier and which we’d all approved. She told the journalists that at last, we could find some closure, that the verdict was what the Church survivors had needed to be able to move on and to rebuild their lives and heal. She finished by quoting from the Judge’s closing speech, how she hoped that “such a  monstrous experiment of deceit and mind-control would never take place on CANAAN soil again.”

“Thank you,” Sasha said. “That will be all.”

It was time to make our way down the steps of the courthouse. I took hold of Isaac’s arm and didn’t let go until I sunk into the car seat and heard the door slam shut.   

——

From the courtroom, we went straight to the offices of Sasha’s firm, where they’d laid out a lavish buffet for us in the conference room. Isaac had quickly placed a plate full of food in front of me, causing my stomach to respond with a deep growl. I’d forgotten how hungry I was.

“Sasha, I’m not sure I completely understand the verdict. Did the judge really say that nobody’s going to jail?” Isaac asked.

“You understood correctly. We were lucky to get house arrests, Isaac. It was always going to be near-impossible to pin down the crimes on individual Church officials.” Sasha said.

“It just seems to me that they got away with it.” Isaac said.

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. As long as the CoR has definitely been shut down for good.” Taylor said. I could tell from his voice that he’d had enough, and I couldn’t blame him.

“The CoR has been stripped down of their religious status so it would be financially impossible to keep it going. The tax bill alone would be crippling, as well as the fact that all its previous officials have been barred from starting an enterprise of similar nature for the next twenty years.”

“Won’t they appeal though?” Jesse asked.

“I doubt it. It would cost them an huge amount of money and they know they’d lose. They got their desired outcome by avoiding a jail sentence, but rest assured, no CANAAN court of law would allow the Flock to reform. No matter how much the CoR tried play the religious freedom card.”

I picked up what felt like a small sandwich from my plate and shoved it in my mouth.

“So what’s going to happen to Layne and all the others now?” Isaac asked.

“They’ll receive help to re-settle somewhere. Housing, training, schooling. They’ll all be offered counselling.” Sasha said.

I swallowed the sandwich pretty much whole.

“Counselling.”

“Yes, counselling, psychotherapy. Psychological help.”

“Where will they be resettled?” I asked.

“I don’t know yet. I can find out for you, in due course.”

“Are they even going to be able to live near each other? In the same area?”

“Zac, I honestly don’t know. We’ve only just heard the verdict. I’m sure you’ll get all your questions answered soon enough. Those people will get all the help they need. Try not to worry too much-”

“Those people were our friends. I looked after their kids. I fed them. I changed their diapers.” I said, surprised at the steadiness of my voice.

“And those kids, and their parents, will all be taken care of. All the relevant agencies are involved.” Sasha said.

The relevant agencies. What could any agency know about spending most of your life in a compound in the middle desert? How could they put the pieces back together? How could anybody understand? Nobody could - nobody, other than me and my brothers.

But now I knew what to do. My mother’s courage had taken me as far as it could. Now it was time to draw on our family’s other secret resource: my father’s power, and his money.

“Anyway, try to relax now, all of you. You’ve been through hell and back. It’s over now.” Sasha carried on.

I put another piece of sandwich in my mouth, allowing myself the time to chew this time. As the conversation around the table took a lighter tone, I felt the tension that up until then had still lingered in the air finally ease. Someone cracked a joke at the expense of the Church; someone else laughed. Isaac put his hand on the back of my neck and whispered “are you okay?” I nodded. He patted my back and rejoined the conversation.

The chatter in the room faded as I retreated into my thoughts, chasing an idea that I knew would soon become a concrete plan. There would be a lot to do, and I was itching to get started. I decided there and then that I wouldn’t waste any time: as soon as we got home, I’d pick up the phone and call the President.

Chapter Text

 

We’d barely got back to the apartment when the President called on Richter’s cellphone and asked to be put on loudspeaker.

“I just wanted to congratulate you all. You’ve been real troopers. I’m very proud of you. Very proud.”

“Thank you Mr President. It was all Sasha’s work, really.” Taylor said.

“She certainly did an excellent job, yes , but don’t underestimate your part in all of this. You came across very well. The media took your side and so did the the people of CANAAN.”

“We’re… glad it’s over.” Isaac said.

“Well, now we can put it all behind us. And move forward.” I jumped in, seizing the opportunity to speak.

“Absolutely. And on this subject, I know you’ve practically only just walked out of that courthouse, but we’ll need to carry on that conversation about your future in the City, sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah, about that, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something-” I said.

“You will have plenty of time to talk to me about whatever you want, Zacha-, Zac, very soon. In fact, I am looking forward to talking to you and your brothers in person over the weekend.”

“What?” I gasped.

The President chuckled.

“I hope you’ve got some good walking shoes - I’ve arranged to fly you and Dr Adams to Camp David.”

— —

I stepped out of the car and took a deep breath in, slowly savouring the clean, crisp air. I could pick up different scents - leaves, damp soil, wood, the bark of trees older than I could ever imagine. I couldn’t wait to explore: I’d never been to the mountains.

Someone walked briskly toward us, repeating the greeting we’d already heard three times since we’d stepped out of the helicopter.

“Welcome to Camp David!”

— —

“The bedrooms are down the hallway - they both have ensuite bathrooms. The kitchen is fully equipped should you wish to cook, although you will, of course, be dining with the President. You will find a selection of snacks and drinks based on Agent Richter’s recommendations for you. The fireplace in the living room is ready for use - should you need extra logs they are stored in the utility room at the back.” said Oriel, our butler. I’d never even heard of butlers until now.

“I could get used to this,” Isaac said under his breath.

“Is this going to be suitable for you?” Oriel asked. “Two of you will have to share…but Agent Richter instructed us to accommodate you in one cabin.”

I smiled to myself. Richter thought of everything.

“That’s absolutely perfect, Mr Oriel.” Taylor said.

“Please just call me Oriel, Mr Anderson.”

“Right…”

“There’s just one thing, Oriel, actually.” I said. “Could you light the fire?”

— —

Soon I was relaxing in front of a crackling fire, curled up in a soft chair as a faint aroma of burnt wood filled the room.

“I see you’ve found your favourite spot.” Jesse said.

“I’ve never been anywhere with a fireplace.”

“I haven’t seen that many either. They’re not really that common in Australia…we have barbecues.”

“I don’t think I’ve come across one of those, either.”

“Maybe you can ask the President if he can throw a barbie for you this weekend? He’ll say yes to you. He always does.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yeah for sure. I’m sure they have a top-of-the-range barbecue here-”

“No, I meant, do you think he always agrees with me?”

“Oh. Yeah, totally. Well, from what you guys have told me anyway. He seems to like you a lot.”

That sounded promising. Now I needed to be to be ready to pounce at the earliest opportunity and get the President to listen to me.

“There you are,” Taylor’s said. “Ike and I have unpacked. Where’s Richter?”

“He’s gone to unpack too.” Jesse said.

“Where’s his cabin?” Isaac asked.

“He’s staying in the staff quarters. I feel a bit weird about that, to tell you the truth. Like, he’s staff and we’re guests.” I said.

“Yeah, these days I see him more like a friend too.” Taylor said.

“We might as well get used to it though. I don’t know how for much longer the President will have us under security.” Isaac said.

“Probably until things calm down a bit.” Taylor said.

“You’d think the media would have got bored of trying to take your pictures by now….but no, every time I’ve left the house since the day of the verdict they’ve been out there.” Jesse said.

“Well, you know the answer to that.” I said.

“What?” Taylor said.

“If they can’t leave us alone, then we’ll have to leave. Remember the President had warned us that this would happen.”

Taylor let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Can we not at least have a few days without having to thinking of running away again?”

“You don’t think the President is going to want to talk about this? Why else would he have brought us here?” I said.

“I don’t know, Zac, maybe he just wants to see us?”

“Oh come on you two. Please don’t fight.” Isaac said.

“We’re not fighting, Ike. I’m just saying. We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” I said.

“No doubt.” Taylor snapped. I decided to ignore his tone.

“Do we know what the plan is?” Jesse asked.

“Richter said he’d be back in half an hour to run through the schedule with us.” Isaac said. “I guess it’s been about half an hour now-”

Before Isaac could finish his sentence, there was a knock at the door.

“Let me guess…” Isaac muttered as he went to open the door.

As predicted, it was Richter, punctual as ever.

“So, how are you finding your rooms - is everything to your liking? Do you need anything from housekeeping?” Richter asked as he shut the door behind him.

I couldn’t think of what else we could possibly need. Even if I couldn’t see my surroundings in great detail, it was obvious that the cabin was more luxurious than anywhere we’d ever stayed. I’d already helped myself to a soda and bag of potato chips from the kitchen, and Isaac had already examined the contents of the bar, eventually deciding to hold off on the alcohol before our meeting with the President.

“Okay, the schedule is as follows.” Richter began. “You will be meeting the President shortly at Aspen Lodge for coffee and light refreshments. From there, the President will then personally escort you on a tour the grounds. Afterwards, you will have time to return to your cabin to change and get ready for pre-dinner drinks, followed by dinner back at Aspen Lodge. Do you have any questions?”

“Um, none other than…is this really happening?” Jesse said.

“Affirmative. By the way, did you bring the musical instruments as requested?” Richter said.

“Yeah. I can’t for the life of me understand why he’d want me to play for him. I’m not that good.” Jesse said.

“One thing I have learned working for powerful people is that sometimes they just want to act like regular guys. President McAllister could get the best violinists in the world to play for him at the Presidential House but maybe he just wants his sons’ best friend to play something for him after dinner.” Richter said.

“I guess so. It’s just nerve-racking, that’s all. Playing for the President of CANAAN, sure, not a big deal at all.” Jesse said.

“Jesse, if it makes you feel better, I haven’t been asked to perform for the President and I’m already feeling like I’m going to throw up any moment.” Isaac said.

“Nobody is going to throw up. We’ve met him before, Ike.” Taylor said.

“If you are planning to be sick, Isaac, I’d suggest that you do it now because you are due to meet the President in fifteen minutes.” Richter said.

I reached for my brother’s arm and gave it a squeeze.

“You’ll be fine, Ike.”

“If you say so…”

“One last thing. Can I have your cellphones?” Richter said.

“Is that really necessary? I thought we used secure lines.” Taylor said.

“No civilian cellphones at Camp David. You can use the cabin’s phone - my number is already programmed in for you if you need to reach me at any time. Jesse, if you are planning to use your tablet, please note that all email servers are blocked for non-authorised personnel. And so are all the social networks.”

“No email. No SocialMe. Well, it will be good to unplug.”

“This is the best place to unplug in the western world.” Richter said. “So, is everybody ready?”

We were.

“Let’s go then. The President doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

 

— — —

A golf cart, like the ones used by officers at the Compound, was waiting for us outside.

“Can we not just walk there?” I asked.

“Negative. You’ll get a chance to explore the grounds later. We have exactly seven minutes to get to Aspen Lodge.”

I didn’t insist and took my seat on the cart. Richter knew that, even with my cane, I’d still slow everybody else down. Hopefully I’d get a chance to stretch my legs soon - and with the President as my tour guide.

— ——

“Wow,” Isaac said under his breath as we followed Richter inside the President’s cabin. “They call this a cabin?”

“A Lodge. Aspen Lodge.” Richter said.

“Does it look like ours?” I asked my brother.

“It does, only even nicer and five times the size, by the look of it.” Isaac said.

“This is one luxury ski chalet.” Jesse said behind me.

At that moment, it dawned on me that in a matter of seconds I’d be reunited with my father. I’d spoken to him so many times lately that I thought I’d be perfectly okay with meeting him again in person, but now I wasn’t so sure anymore. I clung to Isaac’s arm tightly, trying to ignore the sound of my heart pummelling the inside of my chest. Breathe through it. Breathe.

I managed to still myself just as I heard a member of staff rap lightly on a door.

“Mr President, the Anderson brothers and Dr Adams are here.”

I took a deep breath and stepped inside the room.

“So. Here we are, again.” the President said after the door clicked shut behind us.

Then my father put his hand on the back of my neck, and gave my shoulder a little squeeze.

“Hello, Zac.”

— — —

 

“You’ll sit here next to me.” my father said, guiding me to a seat. As I sunk down into a plush leather chair, it felt odd not having my brothers sitting either side of me, even if they were just a couple of feet away on the couch. I realised then that our usual formation was holding me back: I couldn’t expect my brothers to act like my bodyguards all the time. Not anymore.

For a few long moments an uncomfortable silence lingered in the room, the only sound coming from the log fire crackling somewhere behind me.

“Well, welcome to Camp David” my father eventually said. “Dr Adams, let me thank you, first of all, for everything you have done-” he lowered his voice. “for…them.”

“I - um, it’s…no big deal.” Jesse said, sounding more nervous than I was minutes earlier.

“I think everyone present will disagree with that statement. Anyway. I understand that you’re still currently suspended from the Golgotha. I am sorry that your job had to become collateral damage, Dr Adams. This is one of the reasons why I wanted you to come here too - as I like to make things right for people who helped my family.” The President carried on.

“I appreciate that, sir, but-” Jesse began to say.

“But you don’t want any of my help. I know that.”

There was a pause.

I was glad I couldn’t meet Jesse’s eyes in that moment - as I’d told the President that Jesse didn’t want his help during one of our phone calls. I’d tried to dodge the issue, so as not to make Jesse sound ungrateful, but it hadn’t taken the President very long to extract the truth out of me.

“Mr President,” Jesse said. I heard him shift in his seat. “I appreciate your offer of help very, very much but-”

“I’ve heard that you’re a very good doctor,” the President cut him short, “but look at it from my point of view, Jesse…can I call you Jesse?”

I knew what my father was doing now - he was trying to create a rapport. I’d heard him speak like that in interviews before, addressing journalists and opponents by first name, like they were best buddies. He was very good at getting people on his side.

“You see, Jesse,” the President carried on, ”ultimately, I’m the one who put you in the position in which you are now. My son owes his life to you, and now you’re about to lose your job because of something I made you do. Do you see why it’s morally difficult for me not to intervene? You would do me a huge personal favour in accepting my help, Jesse.” the President’s voice took a softer, conciliatory tone.

“Mr President, I…I don’t know what to say but … I am still suspended. I’m kind of hoping that they’ll reinstate me soon. I mean, now that the trial is over.”

“Have you called them?” Taylor asked.

“Not yet, I haven’t had a chance and I figured the Board would need to meet to reconsider now and-”

“The Golgotha won’t reinstate you. You might as well accept that.” The President said, all the warmth in his voice now gone.

“So…is that it? Can they do that?”

“Yes they can, and they will. Let me remind you that you’re quite the rule breaker, Dr Adams. Let’s see… first, you admitted an unregistered refugee, then you bypassed ER triage procedures with Taylor. You also acted as a referee in Taylor’s application as a volunteer, failing to disclose that you were having a sexual relationship with him.”

“Wait, it’s… not...I mean… nothing had even happened …” Taylor stammered. “…at that point.”

“That’s irrelevant.” the President said dryly. “That’s what it looks like from the outside. Even if you decided to provide the hospital with a detailed timeline of your relationship, it would make no difference. The Golgotha is funded by Evangelical money. They will disapprove of your relationship, regardless of when it started.”

“Is there nothing you can do to get them to hire Jesse back though?” Isaac asked.

“I’m afraid not. For several reasons I won’t go into, that particular placement and location is compromised now. Doctor Adams, let me be absolutely clear: I can help you find another position somewhere else, but you cannot go back to the Golgotha.”

“I see.” Jesse said after a long few seconds.

Good, I thought. One obstacle out of the way.

“I understand that you’re disappointed,” my father continued. “but one of the reasons why you are all here today is so that we can discuss everyone’s options for the future.”

I turned to Taylor’s direction and gave him a little satisfied smile. I knew the President wouldn’t fly us over to his vacation retreat just to see us. Now it was the time to bring up my idea.

Just as I was gathering the courage to speak, there was a knock on the door.

“Lunch is served, Mr President.” someone announced.

“Excellent. I imagine you’ll be hungry after the journey. We’ll have plenty of time to talk over the next couple of days.”

— —

Any hopes of bringing up my plan during lunch were dashed the moment Isaac decided to thank the President for buying us the suits we’d worn at the trial. We hadn’t realised they were for us to keep until the day after, when Isaac had asked Richter to return them to the store. Soon, the President was giving Isaac a lesson on menswear: apparently, he was somewhat of an expert, and even had some of his suits custom-made by a famous tailor in London, England.

I had no interest in the subject whatsoever, but it was the first time I’d heard Isaac say more than a few words to our father - usually, he let Taylor or me do all the talking whenever the President called. Now, for the first time, I noticed how alike they sounded; how they both had a tendency to ramble - something the President was doing right now as Taylor tried, and failed, to get a word in. Jesse was quiet; I could only guess that hearing that there was no chance of getting his job back had been a real blow to him.

I focused on demolishing my lunch, dropping the occasional word into the conversation while mentally rehearsing the pitch I would soon deliver to the President. Now that my nerves had subsided, I felt a renewed excitement for what lay ahead - a weekend with my father, the most powerful man in the world. With my ideas and his resources, my plan could only succeed.

 

After lunch the President excused himself to make some calls.

“You can wait in the Sun Room, or outside on the terrace if it’s not too cold for you.”

“The Sun Room will be gr-”

“We’ll wait on the terrace.” I cut Isaac short.

Outside on the terrace, I insisted on sitting on my own, refusing my usual spot on the couch between my brothers. I leaned back on the cushion and pulled the sleeves of my coat down on my hands as far as they would go. It was noticeably cooler here than in the city, and the air felt pure and sharp, slicing through my lungs with every breath I took. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sun’s warmth on my skin after all the time I’d spent indoors. If I had any doubts left as to our future, this was yet another confirmation that we had to leave the City: I needed open spaces again. The President said that the City was compromised, but to me it was worse than that: it was condemned.

I knew that Taylor was desperately hoping that, somehow, we could go back to our old routine. But nothing would ever be the same. We’d outgrown the apartment and outgrown the City itself. Deep down, I knew that we’d also outgrown our role in Jesse’s life. It was time to get our own lives, with real jobs and a place to call our own. We couldn’t be Jesse’s strays anymore, and I for sure was sick and tired of being the blind one sitting on the neighbours’ floor while my brother did small jobs for pocket money. It wasn’t enough anymore. Our world had become even smaller and more confined than the Compound and it was suffocating. We had to move on, find a different place to live. I needed to be free again.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Isaac asked.

I opened my eyes, blinking from the sudden brightness.

“I’m fine, just relaxing. Ask Jesse how he is - he was really quiet at lunch.” I said, loud enough for Jesse to hear.

“I noticed…Jesse, are you all right?”

“Well, let me see. I’ve just heard that my job is definitely gone, and I’m being emotionally blackmailed by none other than the President of CANAAN, but I can’t say anything because one, I’m a guest at his luxury retreat and two, he’s my best friends’ long-lost father.” Jesse said. “Jesus, you can’t make this shit up. I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up any minute and my life will be normal again.”

“We’ll find a solution” Taylor said.

“Taylor, you don’t get it, do you? I don’t even have a say in the matter. Your father flies me out here with you, dazzles me with all this…insane stuff. But why do I get the sense that he has already decided what I should do and where I should work? And maybe that’s okay for you because anything is better than the Compound but this is not okay for me. I’m not…”Jesse lowered his voice “his fucking…pawn.”

“Jesse, please. At least wait and see what he has to say. If the hospital won’t give you your job back, you might as well keep an open mind.” Taylor said in a pleading tone.

“Oh, I'll have to - it’s not as if I have a choice, is it? I can’t exactly call a taxi from here and go home.”

“Did you know that this place has a swimming pool, a gym, a basketball court, and its own lake?” Isaac said, changing the subject. Subtlety wasn’t my brother’s biggest talent, but right now, I loved him all the more for trying.

“Only the best for the President.” Jesse said.

“For the Presidents.” Richter said, appearing out of nowhere. “Camp David has been a presidential retreat long before the United States became part of CANAAN. Successive Presidents had their own improvements refurbishments made through the years, but the only thing President McAllister requested was an upgrade of the sound system in his private study. The President is a classical music buff.”

“That’ll be why he wants you to play for him.” Isaac said.

“Bonding over Beethoven. Terrific.” Jesse said.

Taylor had just let out a frustrated sigh when the terrace door opened. My brothers leapt up from their seats so quickly that I knew the President was there. Reluctantly, I stood up too.

“So, are we all ready? It’s a nice walk through the woods to get to the lake. Very invigorating.” our father said.

“I’ve never seen a lake.” I said.

“It’s only a man-made lake. It was commissioned by President Sanders who liked his trout fishing. I’m not into fishing myself but it’s a good size to run laps. Isaac -” the President said just as I began to make my way down the terrace steps with my brother. “…may I…”

“S-sure. Zac…?”

“Zac, you don’t mind if I’m your guide today?”

I hesitated for a second, then put my hand around my father’s arm.

“Of course not.” 

I put my hand over the President’s arm, tightening my fingers around my cane’s handle, and began to walk.

— —

“So… how are you all feeling now that the trial is over?” the President asked to nobody in particular.

“Umm, it hasn’t really sunk in yet, in all honesty.” Isaac said.

“Yeah, it just doesn’t feel real. Like, nothing has changed. There are still journalists camped outside the house, too.” I added.

“If anything, they’re even more interested now. We had a call from someone, from a TV station, for a show…what was it, Jesse?” Taylor said.

“They wanted you to go on “Celebrity Apprentice.”

“What did you tell them?” the President asked, his voice suddenly serious.

“Erm, I said I wasn’t interested, of course.”

“Good. Barron Trump is executive producer. Like father, like son.” the President said, sounding relieved.

“Jesse had an offer too!” I said.

“Oh yes?”

“It wasn’t quite an offer. A producer from Untold Stories of the E.R. wanted to discuss a show called Embarrassing Bodies. They have it in Europe, apparently. People with embarrassing conditions go on TV to have free treatment. We’re talking things like …genital warts, anal fissures…excessive body hair…”

The President laughed out loud.

“Are you going to do it?”

“Hell, no…sorry, certainly not. Mr President.”

The President laughed again and I sensed that Jesse had also relaxed. I couldn’t help wondering if our father had planned this conversation as an ice-breaker all the way along.

 

The ground under my feet changed as we took a path leading deeper into the woods; it was uneven and lumpy with rocks and roots of trees protruding everywhere, and I found myself having to pay extra attention to avoid tripping.

“Sorry, I’m slowing everybody down.” I said.

“Don’t apologise - I’m not helping much, am I…” my father let out an embarrassed laugh.

“It’s not you, it’s just that this is not quite as easy as walking on the sidewalk.”

“So…can you go out on your own now? The cane works out okay for you?”

“I can walk by myself but haven’t been out on my own yet. I haven’t really felt up to it, you know, with all those people stationed outside.”

“Of course. And how about the rest - are you finding that overall you’re getting more independent?”

Behind us, Isaac laughed.

“What’s he laughing about?” our father said.

“Well…I guess I haven’t really tried to do much, other than walking.” I admitted.

I explained to the President how Taylor did most of the cooking, and shared the cleaning with Isaac. I enjoyed walking with the cane but I didn’t see the point in cooking for myself when I could eat Taylor’s cooking instead. True, there was the specially adapted laptop with a speech recognition programme that the Sight Center had loaned me to get ‘I.T. skills’; I’d spent a couple of hours playing around with it but quickly got bored.

“He’s kind of selective in what he wants to do independently.” Taylor said.

“Well, you’ll have your music to keep yourself busy with, now.” the President said.

“That’s one thing, yes.”

“You have other plans in mind?”

I thought about it for a moment but I didn’t want to bring up my ideas while I was busy concentrating on not falling flat on my ass.

“Yeah, I thought maybe we can talk about it later? Maybe at dinner.”

The President chuckled.

“Sorry…”

“No it’s just…that you’re already dictating the conditions of our negotiations. Later. At dinner. Maybe in front of a crackling fire.” the President patted my shoulder. “Yes, you’re definitely my son.”

— —

To describe our walk as ‘invigorating’ would have been a huge understatement: by the time we got to the lake, we were all out of breath. We weren’t having a heart attack, Jesse reassured us, to the President’s obvious amusement: it was because the mountain air was thinner than in the city, meaning we needed more of it. There was also another not-so- insignificant fact, I thought: city life had made us lazy and unfit.

 

We took a break and sat around a picnic table by the dock which, as our father told us, President Sanders had built to store a small fishing boat.

“So, you said you come here to run instead, sir?” Isaac asked.

“You’re never going to stop calling me ‘sir’, are you?” the President said.

My brother let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Probably not. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand. Too much time has passed.”

“It’s not really that, it’s just that everybody calls you “Mr President” or “sir.” ” Isaac said.

“Yes, you’re right.” the President said with a tinge of disappointment in his voice. “So, any runners among you?” he said after a pause.

My brothers and I made a collective sound meaning ‘no’.

“Where we come from, exercise wasn’t part of life. We had running drills although I was never quite sure what they were for.” Taylor said. “I think it was another power thing.”

“Jesse runs though, don’t you, Jesse?” I said.

“I run in the gym. With the level of pollution in the City, running outside is asking for respiratory problems. I used to run outside a lot back home.” he paused. “In Australia.”

“Do you ever miss Australia? It must be quite a change from Melbourne to the grime of the City.” the President asked.

“Yes, I suppose. I do miss some things, like… the ocean.”

“Let me guess. You’re a surfer.” the President said.

“How did you guess…” he said as if he already knew the answer.

“It’s the hair.” the President said.

“I guess I should try and look more professional.” Jesse said.

“No! Don’t cut your hair.” Taylor said.

“I’m sure you’re aware of this, Jesse, but our West Coast is home to some of the top surfing destinations in the world.” the President said.

“Yes, I used to go whenever I had some vacation. It’s been a while now. I haven’t surfed since…”

“Since we came to live with you.” I finished his sentence.

“Yeah, well, it’s no big deal. It’s been a busy year.”

“What I am trying to say, Jesse, is that there are beaches on the West Coast, and hospitals. If you were to consider relocating, you could get the best of both worlds.” the President said.

“Yes. I know, thank you Mr President.”

“By the way, Mr President, I had some whisky from our cabin’s bar - it was incredible…” Isaac said, changing the subject. Soon he and the President were discussing whisky - which, unsurprising, also happened to be our father’s favourite hard liquor. I let them talk, enjoying the breeze coming up undisturbed from the lake and imagined I was by the ocean. I’d only been there once, but I could still recall the feeling of that freezing cold water and how its salty taste had burned my throat. Lately, I’d started to have dreams in which I was underwater, my body weightless and agile as I swam, unaided, travelling to places I knew - the apartment, my old classroom at the Compound, Blue City. When I got out of bed after those dreams, I took my first few steps as if trudging through knee-deep mud, as if there were shackles around my ankles.

 

The trek back to our cabin felt a lot longer and harder than it had on the way out, and I was relieved to hear that we had two free hours in our schedule to clean up and rest before our dinner with the President. I wouldn’t resent riding the golf cart to Aspen Lodge this time: I’d done enough walking for one day.

After taking a hot shower, I wrapped myself in one of the cabin’s bathrobes and curled up on the couch.

“Zac, what is it that you’re planning to talk to the President about?” Isaac asked casually as he tried to get the fire started. I should have known that my brother noticed everything.

“Oh, you know. Just some ideas I wanted to run by him.” I said.

“Ideas about what?” he said.

“I don’t want to have to talk about it twice. Are you going to get yourself a drink and sit down here with me?” I said, patting the empty space on the couch.

“Don’t try and change the subject, Zac.” he said, pouring something out of a bottle.

“I’m not changing the subject.” I lied.

“Yes you are.” he said, his words drowned by the tumbling of ice cubes into a glass.

I stifled a grin.

“Can you get me a soda as you’re there?”

“At your service Zac.…- wow. There’s a week’s supply Dr Pepper in the fridge.”

“Richter’s orders.”

“He really thinks of everything.”

Isaac dropped himself on the couch next to me and popped the can open.

“So, are you going to share your secret plans with me?” he said, handing me the soda.

I took a long gulp before answering.

“Umm. No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to talk me out if it.” I said.

Isaac swirled the ice in his drink.

“Why would I try and talk you out of …anything?” he said, running his fingers through my hair. I turned my head to face him, trapping his hand between my cheek and the back of the couch.

“I don’t know. You might think it’s a stupid idea.”

“You know I’d never think that any of your ideas are stupid, Zac.”

My brother brought his face close to mine, so close that I could smell the whisky on his breath. I brushed his lips with mine and pulled back.

“You might not tell me, Ike, but I’d know. You’re a terrible liar. And if I thought you found my idea ridiculous, then I might lose the courage to bring it up with the President.”

“You know you’re just making me more curious now.”

“Well, you’ll just have to wait. I hope I’ll get a chance to talk to him properly tonight, without interruptions. I was kind of hoping to get some one-to-one time.”

“Oh. You don’t want us there?”

“I’d feel less self-conscious without all of you around, yes.”

“I don’t like to think that we make you self-conscious. How long have you felt that way?”

I sighed. My brother had a real talent to turn himself into a victim sometimes. Of course, now I felt bad for making him feel bad.

“Ike, don’t make a big deal out of this. It’s fine. We’re all going to be there when I speak to him anyway so it’s not like I have a choice.”

My brother swirled the ice cubes in his glass again and downed the rest of his drink before putting the glass on the coffee table. That whisky hadn’t lasted long; I’d have to keep an eye on him or he’d be drunk by dinner time. I needed to distract him, so I brought my legs up on the couch and curled up against him, burying my face in his neck. It was my favourite part of Isaac’s body, and I knew how sensitive his skin was there. As if on cue, my brother exhaled sharply and turned his face away from me, exposing even more of his neck to my lips.

“Zac.” he said in a pleading voice.

“What…” I whispered into his ear as I slid a hand down his throat and into the opening of his shirt, unbuttoning it.

My brother turned to face me again, forcing me to stop what I was doing.

“I know you want to leave the City.” he said, trapping my hand into his.

“It’s hardly a secret.” I shrugged.

“No, but something tells me that’s a key point in your masterplan. And you know how Taylor feels about that. You can’t expect him to agree to anything until he knows what Jesse is going to do.”

“Taylor is deluding himself. Yeah, maybe we can still live with Jesse and he and Taylor can, you know, be together, whatever, but it will have to be somewhere else. We’ve got to get away. The city is just the place where we ended up when we had nothing. That camp is still there. The guys who paid Taylor to fuck them are still there. That psycho who beat him up is probably still around. And now we have the media following us everywhere and they’re not going to let it go until they get something to put on their websites. They’re hounding us, Ike. We’ve got to start over somewhere new - away from here.”

My brother moved my hand off his chest and got up. Before I had a chance to stop him, he’d poured himself another drink.

“It’s just …such bad timing,” he said, sinking back on the couch.

“Why? It’s great timing. The trial is over. There’s nothing to keep us there.”

“It’s bad timing because now that Taylor and Jesse have got closer…if Jesse doesn’t come with us, it will break Taylor’s heart. And I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“Jesse will follow us. I’m sure of it.”

In actual fact, I wasn’t all that sure, but I needed Isaac to believe that things could work out. I needed his confidence to boost my own.

“You can’t always get your own way, you know?” my brother said, but there was a smile in his voice now.

“You can’t blame me for trying, can you?”

“There you are.” Taylor said, walking into the living room.“You look nice in that fluffy bathrobe, but you should be getting ready, Zac. Richter’s going to be here soon.”

“Okay. Hold on a second. Ike, give me that-” I said, taking the glass from my brother’s hand. Before he could protest, I’d downed what was left of his whisky. It felt like fire down my throat, and my eyes watered as I gasped out for breath.

“What the fuck, Zac?” Isaac said.

“I… thought you didn’t like whisky.” Taylor said.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“I don’t.” I said in a strangled voice as I got up. A nice warmth was already running through my body. I was beginning to see why my brothers liked alcohol so much.

As I made my way to the bedroom, Taylor grabbed my arm.

“Please don’t experiment with liquor while we’re having dinner with the President. That could go really, really badly.”

“Don’t worry Tay.” I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a peck on the lips. “I promise I’ll be good. There’ll be no surprises.”

 

— — —

 

Dinner was too delicious to try and have an important conversation around it, so I decided to wait. But after I’d polished off the last crumb of dessert, the President said that we’d move to the Mountain View Lounge for a drink. There, I declined an alcoholic drink, no doubt to Taylor’s relief. As I nursed my cup of hot chocolate, I considered my advantage: everybody else had been drinking and other than that one shot of whisky back at our cabin, I’d stuck with soda throughout dinner. Already I could tell that our father was going to be like Isaac after a few drinks - more agreeable and hopefully better inclined to give in to my demands.

“So, Zac, what did you want to talk to me about?” the President asked. He’d obviously not forgotten our earlier conversation in the woods.

Next to me, I heard Isaac take in a deep breath.

“Well. This is it. I wanted to talk to you about the Flock.”

 

— —— —

 

“Let me get this straight. You want me to relocate the entire population of the Compound to the Southern States, find them housing and jobs so that they’re not too far away from each other, and you want to go with them.” The President said in an half-incredulous, half-amused tone.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” I said, no longer trying to hide my enthusiasm now. “Households need to be spread out, because otherwise we’d be just re-creating a compound somewhere else. Besides, the local population won’t like it if too many people move into their neighbourhoods all of a sudden. But if we resettle people within a reasonable distance, say a couple of hours’ drive, they’re going to have the certainty of a support network and yet still have to become self-reliant on a day-to-day basis.”

I leaned back on the armchair, satisfied at how I’d delivered my pitch. I’d been practising it in my head for days.

“I still don’t understand where we fit into all of this, Zac.” Taylor said.

“We’re going to build their support system. We’re the only people who can do that.” I said.

“Zac, do you have any idea of how much that would cost?” the President asked.

“It’s going to cost anyway. You’d said it yourself after the Compound was shut down that they’d be resettled…and it won’t be all of them - some might be able to reconnect with their families. Besides, Sasha said that the CoR’s money would be used to help the victims.”

“Even so, I’d have a hard job convincing the Governor of the Southern States to accept thousands of people, just now that the Exodus is finally under control there.”

“With all due respect sir, you’re the one who said you can do pretty much anything you like. If you can push a button and bomb a whole country, surely you can convince a Governor to do something that will help CANAAN citizens? The Flock trial has been all over the news for weeks; you’re the one who made it happen. It’s going to make you look really good when you show that you’re not abandoning the people who suffered at the hands of the Church.” I said.

After a long moment, my father let out a hearty laugh.

“Oh my. I should have known the moment I met you that you were going to get me in deep trouble. You looked too much like me and now it’s clear that you also think a lot like me, Zachary.”

I decided to let the ‘Zachary’ go and smiled as sweetly as I could.

“So let’s assume we resettle them there. Then what’s your role going to be? How do you see yourself helping these people?” My father asked. I could detect a willingness to buy in his voice.

“Yes, Zac…what are we supposed to do, exactly?” Taylor asked.

I braced myself.

“Okay. Let’s think back to when we left the Compound. We didn’t know anything - not even the most basic things. I mean, we were totally clueless about life out here, right, Jesse?”

“That’s pretty accurate, yes.” Jesse said.

“Right. We didn’t know how anything worked but we were lucky because we had one person we could trust - you.” I told Jesse. “Trust is going to be a big problem because these people have been told all their lives that the Outside is a bad place.” I said, turning to the President again. “They’re not going to trust Outsiders overnight. But they would trust one of them. They would trust me, Taylor and Isaac.”

The room fell silent for a moment. I could tell that suddenly, everybody knew that I’d really thought this through.

“Okay, so…we’re going to move to the Southern States so that these people can come and talk to us? That sounds kinda weak, Zac.” Taylor said.

“I’m sure there’s more to it, Tay, if you let him explain.” Isaac said. I made a mental note to hug him for that, later.

“Of course there’s more to it.” I carried on. “We’re going to put together a programme to rehabilitate people to live in the real world. And we’re going to do it together.”

“Wow.” Our father said. “If there were any doubts as to the scale of your ambitions…Zac.”

“A programme…involving what?” Taylor said.

“Psychological treatment, medical care. Education. Do you think you can just send a child who’s only ever been to the Compound school into a regular classroom? We left school barely able to read.”

“The other kids would tear them to pieces, too.” Jesse pointed out.

“But what do you know about what goes on in a classroom, Zac? I mean really, what do we know about…anything?” Taylor said.

I took a second to stop myself from snapping at my brother.

“Since you’re asking, I’ve been researching about schools for a while - since I’ve been going to the Sight Center, in fact.” I said.

“You never told us.” Taylor said.

“I didn’t want to talk about it until I was sure.” I said.

“Sure of what?” Isaac asked.

“Sure that I wanted to go back to school. To a proper school. My personal adviser told me about education programmes for blind people.”

“Zac, that’s…great…” My father said. I could swear his voice was a little shaky.

“Thank you. My adviser said that there are accelerated programmes for people who haven’t been to a proper school or didn’t get any qualifications. She said those programmes are state-funded, but if I then wanted to go to college, then I’d have to pay for it.”

“Right…” my father said.

“So, I will need the money for that.” I blurted out.

“Zachary,” my father said after a pause. “let me get this straight. You want to go to college, and you want me to pay for it. Did I get this right?”

“Yes. Basically. I mean, yes. Please. If it’s possible.” I said, my heart beating louder and faster now. Asking the President to pay for my education was a gamble, and I wasn’t completely certain that he would agree, but I had to ask.

“And if you were to go to college, what would you want study?”

I knew the answer.

“I want to become a teacher.”

 

— — —

 

“Nice of you to spring that on us without asking what we thought first, Zac.” Taylor said once we’d shut our cabin door behind us.

We’d discussed my idea with the President late into the night, and as we were leaving the Lodge, my father promised me that he would consider it. I could tell he was being cautious but liked the idea. It was Taylor that I wasn’t so sure of.

“I thought you wanted to go to nursing school.” I said.

“I did - I do, but that doesn’t mean I want to move somewhere else. I’ve only just started to feel at home in the City. I like the weather there. It’s not hot all the time. It snows in winter.”

“Well, if that’s what’s worrying you, there are mountains in the Southern States too. In fact, I went snowboarding there, once.” Jesse said.

“It’s not the same.”

“Umm, does anyone want a drink?” Isaac asked.

“Yes.” Jesse and Taylor answered at the same time.

“Come on … you’ve got to accept that the City isn’t right for us anymore. We need to be somewhere different anyway. And we can make a difference with this.” I said, flopping down on the couch.

“What makes you think that I want to get involved with people from the Compound anyway? I was kind of looking forward to putting all that behind me.” Taylor said.

“You don’t mean that.” Isaac said.

“Don’t you start, too, Ike.”

“I’m just saying. Layne was one of your closest friends and without him, we’d never have made it out. There were a lot of other good people there who might need our help now.”

“But what can we do, really? Seriously. I don’t think we have anything to offer. I’m not a nurse. Zac isn’t a teacher. You…” he trailed off.

Isaac let out a bitter laugh.

“…I’m just a simple handyman, I know.”

“Oh come on, Ike. You know that’s now what I meant. But we don’t know anything about running…anything.”

“You can learn.” Jesse said.

Taylor snorted.

“Tay,” I put a hand on my brother’s arm, “it doesn’t matter what we know. What matters is that this project is going to help our people, and deep down you know that it’s a good idea, and so does the President. And the only people who can put this together is …us.”

“I think he’s right, you know? I think you guys can totally do this. You have the best connection in the world and you have the experience.” Jesse said.

“What experience? All we did was escape. You helped us - without you we would have been totally screwed. What the fuck did we actually do, if you care to tell me?” Taylor said, half-shouting now.

“You survived, Taylor.”

My brother remained silent for a few moments. I knew I could bring him round eventually but I needed Jesse to fully get on board.  Earlier, as we brainstormed the idea with the President, our father had suggested a medical programme for the project. Jesse had kept quiet but we all knew that the President had instantly created the perfect role for him. Now I only had to convince Jesse to take it; but putting pressure on him was not the way to go.

I got up from the couch and stretched out in an exaggerated yawn.

“Well, I’m going to bed. Ike, you’re coming?”

“Yeah. I’m exhausted. You guys are staying up for a bit?” my brother asked casually.

“I’m coming too.” Taylor said a little too quickly, before Jesse had a chance to object. “It’s been a long day.”

“Well I guess it’s goodnight, then.” Jesse said with an edge of disappointment in his voice.

As I walked down the hallway, I left Taylor and Jesse to say their goodnights in private.

If he loves Taylor, he’ll come with us.

Chapter Text

 

THE INNOCENTS BOOK II - CANAAN’s Children

Chapter 17 -  “ Follow Your Lead”

 

Chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp . The shrill, persistent birdsong had tunnelled its way inside my head, and I wasn’t sure if I was awake or still dreaming. I tried to ignore it, letting myself drift back to sleep.

Chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp . Nope. Now I was definitely awake.

Refusing to open my eyes yet, I listened to the party that was obviously taking place outside. After months of city life, I could sleep through the racket of the garbage trucks at 5:00 AM, but I’d never been woken up by birds. I yawned and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was still early, a few hours before we were expected at Aspen Lodge for brunch with the President. But by now I was awake, and there’d be plenty of time to sleep back at home. As quietly as possible, I got out of bed and put some clothes on. I’d make some coffee and drink it on the porch on my own, immersed in the peace and quiet of Camp David, with birds as my only company.

As I was letting myself out as quietly as I could, I heard someone stirring in bed.

“Ike… what time is it?” Taylor said, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning. It’s still really early. You don’t need to get up yet.”

Taylor yawned, groaned and tried to speak at the same time - the only word I was able to catch was “coffee.”

I sighed.

“You want coffee?”

“Yes. Please. Ike. Thanks.”

“All right. I’ll make some coffee.” I said, waving goodbye to my time alone. As soon as Taylor got up, Zac would soon follow, and then I’d be on big brother duty. A pang of guilt instantly followed that thought, and as I padded down the hallway on my coffee-making mission, I chided myself for resenting my brothers. 

Once a pot of coffee was brewing, I grabbed my jacket and slipped out of the door and onto the porch; I could still get a few minutes to myself before my brothers were up.

I leaned on the wooden railing and inhaled deeply, savouring the fresh mountain air.

“Good morning, Mr Anderson,” a security officer called, appearing out of nowhere.

Of course, someone must have been watching our cabin through the night - not that the guest inside would ever notice. Everything at Camp David was geared toward creating the illusion of a relaxed, luxury mountain resort - albeit one that required the guests to have security clearance. It was strange to think that I was one of such guests, but I was used to strange by now: life had been nothing but strange since leaving the Compound. In a way, I was in a state of permanent alert for the next twist in the story, expecting things to change from one moment to the next. Once Zac had outlined his plan, I knew deep inside that there was only one possible choice: we couldn’t leave our people behind.

I was still considering our future plans, when I saw Jesse coming back from a run, almost camouflaged into the background in green shorts, green t-shirt and a green baseball cap.

I waved.

“Morning!” he said, slowing down to a walk. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah. Seemed like a waste to stay in bed, you know.” I said “I’ve put some coffee on. It should be ready by now.”

“Are the others up?” Jesse asked, following me inside.

“Not yet. I’ll go and bring Taylor some coffee…in a minute.” I said. I poured coffee into two mugs bearing the Camp David logo, and handed one to Jesse. “The moment Taylor gets up, Zac will be up too and…I’m not awake enough for that, yet.”

“Getting Zacced first thing in the morning is harsh.” Jesse said, accepting a mug from my hand.

“Tell me about it.”

I took a sip, but the coffee was too hot. I set it back down on the counter, turning the Camp David logo to face me.

“Go on, Ike, just come out and say it.”

“Say what?”

“Don’t act dumb with me. It doesn’t suit you.”

I picked up the mug again - any excuse to avoid eye contact. I stared into the dark steaming liquid, hoping it would help me come up with something to say.

“I don’t know, Jesse.” I said after a long moment. “Is there anything I can say to convince you to come with us?”

“Right so, you’ve actually decided you’re going. It didn’t take you long to consider.”

“Jesse, you know it makes sense for us. We can really help those people. Make a difference.”

Jesse exhaled sharply.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough so far? You’ve been dragged into a trial that didn’t benefit you in any way, your faces have been splashed all over the media, Taylor had to discuss his sex life in front of a packed courtroom…is that not enough?”

“But what about all those people who also got dragged into it? If it hadn’t been for us, they’d still be at the Compound. Now they’re finding themselves on the Outside because of us. We need to help them.”

“I hear ya. You’ve got to save the world.”

“You know it’s not just that.” I went on, deciding to ignore Jesse’s tone. “We need to get away from the city - they’re not going to stop hounding us. But I don’t want to see Taylor hurt, and losing you will break his heart.” I put the mug back on the counter a little too forcefully, causing some of the contents to spill out. “And yours.”

“Well. I don’t think anyone is particularly concerned with my feelings at the moment.” Jesse said flatly.

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? It surely feels that way.”

“We just haven’t had time to really process all of this. What the President told us last night, about your job situation - we need to sit down together, all of us, and talk it through.”

“Maybe. Anyway,” Jesse placed his now empty mug in the sink. “I need to take a shower. You’d better wake Sleeping Beauty. And Zac said he wanted to try the pool before brunch with the President.” he said, in his usual jokey tone, as if nothing had happened.

I groaned.

“Great. Do you know how deep it is? I can’t swim and neither can Zac. Or Taylor.” I said.

“Don’t worry mate. I’m a qualified lifeguard. Or at least, I used to be. Anyway, I won’t let you drown.” he said, slapping my back as he walked off.

I poured myself some more coffee and leafed through the Camp David Guest Handbook - there was a copy of it prominently displayed in every room. The prospect of getting into the pool had instantly unsettled me; I’d never been in the water, other that that one time when Zac had decided to jump in the ocean fully clothed. I couldn’t float, let alone swim.

After meticulously scanning the handbook’s fitness facilities section for any mention of the pool’s depth, I gave up. I had another pressing issue to think about - something involving the President, and his real family.

— —

As soon as I’d mentioned the pool, Zac had leaped out of bed as if it was on fire, giving Taylor barely enough time to drink his coffee, and then we were riding the golf cart again, this time on our way to the fitness centre. By the time I’d reluctantly changed into the complimentary swimming shorts bearing Camp David’s logo, my brothers were already splashing around in the water.

“Come on, Ike. Get in the water.” Jesse said, climbing down the ladder into the pool until he was standing in chest-height water. “See? It’s not deep.”

“I can see that.” I gripped the towel that was wrapped around my waist as I considered my options - one of which involved covering up my squidgy white body and head back to the cabin as soon as possible. It was then that I noticed that Richter was looking at me - the corners of his mouth almost twitching into what was clearly a stifled smirk.

“You’re not going to join us, Max?” I asked, none too pleased the even Agent Blankface was practically laughing at me.

“I already swam 50 lengths at 5:00 AM this morning at the staff centre.”

“Awesome. If I wasn’t feeling inadequate enough already…” I muttered to myself as I gingerly put a foot on the ladder. As I lowered myself into the water, I braced myself for a temperature shock. I was almost disappointed when I felt the water lap at my skin, and it wasn’t cold.

By the time both of my feet had touched the bottom of the pool, I was chest-deep in water. It was an odd sensation: the only times I’d been submerged in water, it had been in a bath tub. There were not many opportunities to go for a swim in the middle of the desert.

I bent my knees and sank deeper, until the water was up to my chin. I stood half-squatting for a few moments, sweeping my arms under the water in an opening and closing motion. I glanced over at Taylor and Zac, who were splashing around as if it was it was the most normal thing in the world. It was so typical of my brothers to be good at everything they tried - and with very little effort. A familiar wave of frustration surged through me: I’d been there many times before, comparing myself to my brothers; wanting to be like them but knowing that I could not possibly compete.

“This is pointless.” I said under my breath and began to take long, laboured strides towards the step ladder, every step surprisingly strenuous underwater.

“Where are you going?” Jesse half-shouted behind me.

“I’ll wait for you outside.”

There was a big splash and within seconds Jesse was in front of me, blocking my way.

“Ike, stop being so bloody awkward.”

“I’m not being anything. I just don’t want to stand here like an idiot. I’m not a fucking fish.”

“That’s true, you’re not a fish, but you are an idiot. Come on.”

Ignoring my protests, Jesse grabbed me by the arm and all but dragged me to the edge of the pool.

“Max, can you chuck us a couple of floats, mate?”

“What are you do-…?” My words were drowned out by a slapping sound - two large foam boards had just landed next to me.

Somehow, after I’d exhausted every possible excuse, Jesse convinced me to lie face down in the water as he held me by the hands. I focussed on his instructions, expelling the air in my lungs in slow, controlled exhalations, releasing a trail of bubbles in the process. Then, without any warning, Jesse let go of my hands: and it took me a couple of seconds to realise that I was actually floating, completely on my own.

Next, Jesse persuaded me to try to make it to opposite end of the pool by kicking my legs in the water as I held on to the float. By the time I got to the other side, my heart was pounding.  

Within seconds, Jesse had swum over to my side of the pool.

“See? I knew you could do it.”

“Does that count as swimming?”

“It totally does. Now,” Jesse jerked his head toward the other side of the pool, “let’s go and show those two how it’s done.”

— — 

By brunch time, I was famished. My mouth watered as a waiter put my food in front of me: a sort of open sandwich, made up of layers of smoked salmon over a poached egg on each side, all sitting on perfectly round, thick slices of golden bread, and covered with a yellow, creamy sauce. I’d gone with my father’s recommendation of Smoked Salmon Eggs Benedict, although now, glancing at Zac’s plate - a tower of delicious looking waffles, bacon and eggs - I almost questioned my choice.

“So, how was the pool?” the President asked us.

“It was great. Jesse taught us how to swim. Thank you for letting us use the pool.” Zac said with a full mouth. I made a mental note to teach my brother some table manners at the earliest opportunity.

“My pleasure,” the President said. “I’m glad someone gets to enjoy it. I’ll occasionally swim a few laps after a run but I don’t have the patience to keep going. It really only gets used when Martha and Marcia are here.”

There was my opportunity.

“Um, so, your…family, do they usually join you here?” I asked, avoiding eye contact.

The President swallowed, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

“They’ve been here a couple of times so far. My wife and Marcia, they like beach vacations, so it’s hard to tempt them away from our place in The Hamptons. There’s a lot more going on there, especially for Marcia.”

I nodded, as if that was an issue I could relate to.

“Is Hantons in the Southern States?” Zac asked.

“Hamptons,” the President corrected him. “ The Hamptons, it’s called. Don’t ask me why. But no, it’s on the East Coast. It’s a very nice place, and very safe for our family now, you know, since the elections. We have a lot of friends there.”

“Do the media leave your family alone?” I asked.

“Within reason,” the President said with a little shrug. “There was a lot of interest during the campaign, of course. Marcia was already in college and as Election Day got closer, things did get a little intense so when I won, she transferred to Capital University and moved in with us at Presidential House. It’s much safer for her and obviously, it gave us a great peace of mind. Her mother loves having her back home, and so do I, of course.”

“She’s studying Anthropology, right?” I asked nonchalantly, although I’d been reading up everything I could about Marcia.

“Cultural Anthropology, yes. She’s planning to go to Law School after that.”

“Like you, right? You went to Law School?” I said.

“I did but that’s not why she wants to do it. She wants to go into Human Rights Law…” the President gave me a resigned look “…we shall see. We’re all very idealistic when we’re young - we all want to save the world.”

“Is that what made you go into law?” I prodded.

“Me? No. I didn’t really have a choice. Everybody in my family had gone to law school and it was kind of understood that I’d do the same. But it worked out for the best. It’s just harder to understand when  you’re twenty. When you’re young, you just want to rebel. You know what it’s like.”

No, I didn’t, actually.

“Well, where we grew up, rebelling against …anything would just land you in deep trouble.” I said. “If anything, you had to keep your head down and accept the state of things.”

“Of course - I’m sorry,” the President put his napkin down on the table. “Sometimes I forget that the three of you didn’t have a normal childhood.” He put his hand on my forearm and patted it lightly.

“No, it’s okay, it’s fine.”

“So, are you ready for a trip to the lake?” The President said, already on to the next thing. “Don’t worry, the boat has been maintained since President Sanders last used it.” he added with a little laugh.

“Looking forward to it, Sir.” I lied. In truth, I was tired of being a guest at the President’s table and having to measure every word. It was obvious that my brothers and I could never fit in his world of law school graduates and ‘good friends’ at the Hamptons, so would Charlton McAllister, President of CANAAN, ever think we’d be worthy of meeting his daughter?

“Is everything okay, Ike? You’re really quiet.” Taylor asked me as we left the breakfast room shortly afterwards.

“I’m fine. Just worried about getting on a boat.” I said, only half lying. Among other things, I wasn’t exactly enthralled by the idea of going out in the open water.

“I’m not so keen on the idea, either. I’d much rather sit by the fire with a book. But Zac is full of energy.” he said, with a jerk of the chin in our brother’s direction. Zac was walking in front of us, holding on to the President’s arm with one hand and clutching his cane with the other.

“It’s like they’ve known each other forever.” I said, unable to suppress a smile.

“In a way, they have. They just didn’t know it. We’re family…it’s in the blood, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s in the blood.”

— — —

By late afternoon I’d snapped out of my mood. To my surprise, I’d enjoyed the boat trip, especially when the President had stopped the engine in the middle of the lake, and we’d all sat for a while, talking and enjoying the stillness of the water. Back in the cabin, after a hot shower and a change of clothes, I poured myself a large whisky and settled onto the couch, watching Taylor who was crouched on the floor trying to get a fire going.

“Who needs a butler, uh?” he said proudly once a fire was finally eating its way into the elaborate tepee-like construction of logs and kindling he’d just assembled.

“Impressive! Shame we don’t have a fire place back home. I could get used to it.”

“Maybe our new house will have one.”

“So…you’re okay about going now?”

My brother turned and looked at me.

“Well, Zac’s idea is kind of growing on me. I just hope it will grow on Jesse, too.”

“It will, I’m sure. There’s no reason why he w-”

A knock at the door interrupted me.

“That’ll be Richter. I’ll get it.” Taylor sprang to his feet.

“I thought pick-up time was at nineteen-hundred hours. ” I said, craning my neck in the direction of the door.

“It is. But the President asked if you could meet him in private, now.” Richter said as he walked in.

“Now? Zac’s still in the shower and-”

“The President only wants to see you.”

“Me? Why?”  

Richter crossed his arms.

“No idea.”

I shot Taylor a pleading look.

“Ike, the President wants to speak to you, not to have you executed by firing squad.” my brother said.

“Okay, yeah, I know. Okay.” I said, trying to ignore the knot that had suddenly lodged itself in my stomach. I grabbed the jacket that I’d been planning to wear later, and which was neatly folded over a chair.

I looked expectantly at Richter who was blocking my exit.

“Are we going, then?”

Richter looked me up and down.

“You might want to consider putting some shoes on.”

—— 

I was shown to the Aspen Lodge living room, where the President appeared to be absorbed in a newspaper. I rapped lightly on the open door.

“Mr President, you wanted to see me?”

“Isaac, come on in. And shut the door, please,” he said, taking his reading glasses off. He gestured toward the couch. “Grab a seat.”

I perched myself on the couch, sliding my hands under my thighs.

“Isaac,” the President said, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “The couch won’t explode.”

“I-I’m sorry. I’m just, yes, sorry.” I mumbled, scooting back on the couch until my back rested on the plump cushion behind me.

“I don’t mean to make you nervous. Let’s just get to the point, Isaac. Earlier… I know you wanted to talk about Marcia,” the President interlaced his fingers and leaned back on the back of the leather chair.

I tensed up. Clearly subtlety was not my forte.

“I’m a politician, Isaac. I can spot a hidden agenda when I see one. You’ve been trying to steer the conversation to my family all day.”

“Yeah, um. I did. I guess I just …” I swallowed thickly. “…I just wanted to learn about my sister, Sir.”

The President gave me a hard, searching look.

“Isaac, I can tell you one thing for sure: I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I never thought I’d ever see you, or your brothers, again. Finding you again has been…wonderful, but it brought complications. Trust me, I have spent many sleepless nights trying to come up with a way to broach the subject.”

I nodded.

“I understand.”

The President scoffed.

“With all due respect, I don’t think you do, Isaac. I don’t think you have the kind of skeletons in the closet that I have, and you’re not the president of the most powerful nation in the world.”

I clamped my mouth shut. When it came to skeletons in the closet, my brothers and I could probably give him a run for his money.

“Anyway. Would you like a drink?” the President said, getting up.

Before I had a chance to reply, he was already standing at the bar that occupied a corner of the room, and was filling two glasses with ice from a steel bucket.

“ Isle of Jura Superstition .” he said as he proceeded to drown the ice in two large servings of Scotch.

“You have quite a collection, there.” I said, eyeing up the bottles lined up on the cabinet’s shelves.

“Oh yes. I do. I firmly believe that there’s a Scotch for every mood. Here,” he said, handing me the glass, “you’re going to like this one. Have a sniff first.”

Under the President’s watchful eye, I swirled the whisky around the glass and brought it to my nose, knotting my forehead in concentration. I took a sip and made an appreciative sound. It tasted of burnt fields and winter nights.

The President nodded at me with a self-satisfied smile, then took a big sip himself, before leaning back on the club chair. He locked his eyes on mine. “I told my wife and Marcia about you and your brothers.” he said.

I nearly choked on my whisky.

“They know?” I said in a croaky voice.

“They’ve known since the trial started. And they know that you’re here.”

It took a long moment for my brain to process what I’d just heard, and extract its meaning: that my sister knew she had three brothers. She knew about us. A torrent of questions rushed into my mind: how had she reacted to the news? Did she want to meet us, and when?

“How…how did they take it?”

The President twisted his mouth into a knot and shook his head.

“It was a shock. I’d rather not really go into it, and it’s done now. It’s for the best.”

“So, what happens now?” My voice shook as I spoke.

“What would you like to have happen, Isaac?” he retorted, as if it was all up to me.

I emptied my glass in one long gulp, squinting as I swallowed the smokey liquor.

I raised my head and met my father’s eyes.

“Am I ever going to meet my sister?”

“That is up to you, your brothers, and Marcia.” he said without hesitation.

“Doesn’t she want to meet us?”

My father leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Marcia always wanted a little brother or sister but…it didn’t happen. Now she’s found out that she has not one but three brothers.” The President let out a short laugh. “She hasn’t stopped asking me about you, and when is she going to meet you.”

I broke into a wide grin. Our sister wanted to meet us too.

“So…when can we do that?”

“When things have calmed down a little,” The President made a ‘patience’ gesture with his hand, “and when the media frenzy has died down. But if that’s what Marcia wants…and obviously if that’s what you all want too, then I will make it happen - it’s a promise. But you’ll have to promise me something too.”

“Sure..?”

“You’ll keep this conversation to yourself until you’re back in the City. I was going to talk to all of you until Zac hijacked the agenda for his own purposes.”

“Yeah, um, I’m sorry about that.”

The President chuckled.

“Your brother is a force to be reckoned with.”

“He’s … quite something.”

“It’s just,” the President continued, “I think we’ve had enough big surprises for the weekend, not to mention the fact that Taylor and Jesse have a few issues of their own to resolve. I’m sure you could find the right moment to tell them once you’re back home. Once you’ve managed to keep Zac off the sugar for a couple of hours.”

I laughed.  

“I can do that, Sir.”

“Thank you. So, tonight we’ll just enjoy some good food and good music. No more high level negotiations.”

“I understand, Sir. So, should I go back and see where everybody’s at? Jesse was practising when I left.”

“Absolutely. Go.” the President said, getting up.

I was already at the door when the President called me back.

“Sir?”

“Isaac - I know how hard you worked to keep your family together at the Compound. You gave up a lot for them.” the President said, his eyes fixed on mine now. “You were the head of the family, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That hasn’t changed. Zac’s full of ideas, and Taylor has found his vocation. But your brothers still need to look up to someone, someone who has his feet on the ground - and that’s still your job, Isaac. You’re going to be someone your brothers can depend on, whatever crazy turn your lives take - and God knows your lives have been crazy so far. That’s what your role is, and just because you’re not going to get paid for it, or end up on TV as the saviour of the Flock, it doesn’t mean it’s any less important. Do you understand?”

I opened my mouth but no words came out. My father knew me, he actually knew me . We’d barely spent a day together and yet there he was, telling me what I should have known all along - as if he’d shined a torch into the darkest recesses of my mind and found the answer, painted in huge letters like graffiti on a city wall.  

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders.

“I understand. Thank you, Mr President.”

— —— — 

As soon as I got back to the cabin, my brothers had questions for me: what could have been so important for the President to summon me in private? As I’d expected, they’d both met my excuse - that the President wanted to discuss suits and whisky - with questioning looks.

“Really.” Taylor raised a brow. “Because your manly chat could not wait.”

“Yeah well, he knew you’d have found it boring.” I insisted.

“Sure.” Zac said in a tone that actually meant ‘bullshit’.

“Ok, well, the truth is-” I said, frantically reaching for the next thing that sprang to mind, “he had some more questions about the Compound. Like, sad stuff. He didn’t want to bring up more bad memories for you. Both.” I said firmly. That definitely sounded more convincing.

Taylor’s eyes narrowed.

“I thought he’d heard everything there was to hear.”

“Well, he just wanted to talk about it, Tay. I couldn’t exactly argue. And anyway, I guess talking about the Compound would have ruined the atmosphere tonight. He’s really looking forward to hearing Zac and Jesse play. Speaking of whom,” I said, seizing the opportunity to change the subject “how did the practice go, Jesse?”

Jesse had emerged from his room, barefoot, still not dressed for the evening in a crumpled, blue checkered shirt thrown over faded jeans. He held his violin in his left hand.

“It’s fucking atrocious. I can’t play anymore. I’m sure I’ve actually unlearnt to play this bloody thing overnight.” he said, brandishing the violin by its neck, as if it was an animal he was trying to strangle.

“It’s just nerves. I’m sure you’ll be great.” I said, although I was very glad that I wasn’t the one expected to play a string instrument in front of the President of CANAAN.

“Sure mate, sure.” he scoffed. “Zac, are you all set?”

Zac was sitting cross legged on the floor with the guitar on his lap, quietly positioning and repositioning his fingers on the fretboard.

“Yeah. I’m good. I’m not worried.” he said with a particularly smug grin.

“Of course, you and the President are best mates now.” Jesse said with an exaggerated eyeroll.

“What are you going to play?” I asked my brother.

“It’s a surprise.” Zac’s grin grew wider.

This time I was the one rolling my eyes.

“Of course. What about you, Jesse?” I asked, knowing it was a stupid question. Over time, I’d heard Jesse play a lot of stuff, and sometimes he’d told me the song title or the name of the composer, but they all had strange, foreign sounding names I could not remotely pronounce, let alone remember.

Jesse’s lips twisted into a smile.

“Remember when you first came to stay with me and you’d never heard music?”

“Yeah.” we all said at the same time.

“I remember I played you “Song to the Moon”. It’s from an opera called Rusalka .” Jesse placed the violin on his shoulder and tucked it under his chin. “It sounds like this.”

He drew the bow across the strings, producing a melody I’d definitely heard before. I remembered hearing it for the first time and not knowing if I was going to burst into tears or laugh hysterically. My brothers had reacted in the same way, and I think all three of us realised right there, in that moment, that there was more to life than just surviving. Hearing music had offered us a glimpse of a whole new dimension: I’d recognised that same unseen current that had driven Zac to paint, to find fulfilment in something that had no real practical use. It was the exact opposite of what had been drilled into us by the Flock: to only learn what you needed to be a faithful, reliable Flock member.

“So what do you think?” Jesse had stopped playing.

“It’s…beautiful, Jesse.”

“Is it not too sad for tonight? I wonder I should have picked something more upbeat.” Jesse went on. “Maybe I should play Vivaldi’s “Spring”. I hate it but it’s a crowd-pleaser. How long have we got before Richter picks us up? I might have enough time to pr-”

“Jesse, stop.”

“But-”

“Stop, okay? Enough with all the self-doubting.” I said. “You’re beginning to sound a lot like me.” 

— — —

Jesse lifted the bow from the strings one last time, as the final note from “Song to the Moon” slowly dissolved in the air. An expectant silence fell over the President’s living room, and I was fairly certain that I wasn’t the only one who had stopped breathing.

Finally, the President stood up, clapping enthusiastically.

“That was terrific, Jesse.” he said. “Terrific. How did you know I liked Dvořák?”

Jesse’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t.” he said. His voice was a mixture of surprise and relief.

“Oh, he’s one of my favourite composers. Excellent choice.”

I threw Jesse a look. Told you so .

 

Now it was Zac’s turn. Quietly, he took a seat on a high stool that a member of staff had retrieved moments earlier from the living room’s bar. Next, my brother took off an elastic band from around his wrist and pulled his hair into a ponytail, which he then folded into a low bun. Finally, after tucking a few loose strands behind his ear, Zac looked up and cleared his throat.

I stole a glance at the President: he was sitting up straight, his eyes pinned on Zac.

“Um, so, I thought I’d play this song.” Zac’s voice shook a little. “I wrote it. I hope you’ll like it.”

“You…wrote a song?” I blurted.

Zac’s eyes landed on me with eerie precision, as if he could see me perfectly clearly.

“I did,” he said, one corner of his mouth twisting into a smirk. “It’s called Brother .”

A million tiny, cold pinpricks ran up and down my arms as my brother began to sing - at first with no other accompaniment than the soft rapping of his fingers on the guitar’s hollow body. I watched him in awe as he started to strum, his voice steadier and more confident, singing words that flowed perfectly one after the another, and that could only have been written for Taylor, and for me.

 

And when you call

And need me near

Say it when you go

Brother, I’m right here

And on those days

When the sky begins to fall

You’re the blood of my blood

We can get through it all

 

A hand landed on my knee - Taylor’s. I clasped his fingers tightly, willing myself to keep it together, despite the tears that were now pricking my eyes.

Our brother sang the chorus over and over, as if it was a message he wanted to drill right into our hearts.

Brother, let me be your shelter.

— — —

Later that night, Zac told us how he’d been working on the song for weeks, with Jesse’s help, whenever Taylor and I were out. The song, he said, was a gift to us.

Afterwards, I couldn’t get to sleep. I kept thinking of how Zac had changed, how strong he’d become in the space of a year, since we’d started a new life on the Outside. At the same time, I’d struggled to keep up with him, and often found myself worrying that he didn’t need me anymore. What would I do then? What else did I have to offer? But after talking to the President earlier, I’d decided to stop feeling sorry for myself, and accept that my life’s purpose was still to take care of my brothers, especially Zac. I’d do whatever it would take me to help him achieve whatever he wanted to achieve, because I knew now that Zac was destined for great things - whether it was music, painting, or leading a flock of lost souls to freedom - it was still too soon to know. All I knew was that I would follow him.

— —

After having breakfast together one last time, the President came to see us off at the helipad. Despite trying not to read too much into it, I couldn’t help feeling that our father didn’t want us to leave. Those two days at Camp David had gone quickly, but I’d felt that we’d really got to know each other, and I could now see a lot of me and my brothers reflected in the President. I only wished we’d have more time.

The golf cart dropped us off by the side of the grassy helipad with a few minutes to spare, enough time for the the pilot to complete the final checks on the helicopter, while Richter loaded our luggage.

“So, this is it. I hope you enjoyed Camp David,” the President spoke first.

We did, we all said.

“Jesse, your execution of that Dvořák piece was superb.” the President continued. “And please - give some consideration to the options we discussed. There’s life beyond the Golgotha.” he said, offering his hand.

“I will. Thank you Mr President.” Jesse said, returning the handshake.

“Zachary…” the President placed both hands on my brother’s shoulders, “your song…was very moving. I’d love to have a recording, if you can do that?”

“Sure! I’ll do that as soon as I get back. Sir.”

The President put his arms around my brother and held him for a long time, leaving no possible doubt that Zac was his favourite son. But I was okay with that.

“Taylor, it will all work out,” the President said once he’d let go of Zac. “Try not to worry too much.” he added, drawing Taylor into a hug.

Then he turned to me.

“Isaac,” he said, pulling me into a stilted hug. “Remember what I said. Your job is to take care of your brothers. No more feeling sorry for yourself.” he said quietly into my ear as he patted my back repeatedly.

I tried to speak, but a lump had wedged itself inside my throat. I pressed my lips tightly together, trying to stop my face from giving away my feelings.

The President pulled away and looked right into my eyes.

“Okay, Isaac?”

“Okay.” I said. “Yes, Mr President.”

Richter signalled that it was time to go, and suddenly I remembered how little I enjoyed flying. I chose to ignore the knot in stomach and climbed into the chopper first, closely followed by my brothers.

As soon as we’d buckled up, the helicopter began to lift off the ground. The blades whirred, spinning faster and faster, making ripples on the grass below. I craned my neck and looked out of the window that still faced Camp David, but the President was already gone.

 

Chapter Text

The camera crews that had been camping outside the apartment since the trial were still there when we got back from Camp David - a welcome home that we honestly could have done without. Several days passed after that but finally one morning the CANAAN Live at 5 van was gone, and within twenty-four hours, so were the others. We were yesterday’s news, and free at last.

Although we had decided to leave the City, we hadn’t yet set a date. There were still a lot of practical details to figure out, and Zac was having regular conference calls with a team of advisors whose unenviable task was to turn my brother’s grandiose plans into reality. During these calls, I’d take notes, while Isaac sat and listened with a resigned expression on his face, barely managing to get a word in. Watching Zac in action was quite something though, and Isaac and I would often exchange half-amazed, half-amused looks as our brother extracted every ounce of financial and professional support from the unfortunate presidential advisors, using negotiating skills we never knew he had.

As we held these conference calls in the kitchen - our cellphone turned to speaker in the middle of the table - Jesse would sometimes walk in, tip toeing around while he got something from the fridge or helped himself to some coffee, before retreating to the living room. After we’d got back from Camp David, Jesse had promised me he would consider the President’s proposals but had stressed that he’d still be looking for jobs as an ER doctor at other City hospitals. But whenever I asked him how the search was going, Jesse was vague, and sensing that things weren’t going so well, I’d inevitably drop the subject.

It was clear that Jesse’s newly found notoriety was making the job search very difficult, so I hoped that he’d eventually see sense and give up - and accept the President’s offer.

He told us about Australia one evening, at dinnertime.

One of his Med School professors in Melbourne had been in touch about a great job that, apparently, was perfect for Jesse. The professor had then arranged video link interviews with the department’s recruitment panel; it didn’t take long for the hospital to make an offer. It would be a great opportunity, Jesse told us, finding an excuse to avoid eye contact as he used his fork to chase the food on the plate. He explained that he would be running his own department, which the hospital wanted to turn into ‘a leading centre of excellence in emergency medicine’.

My stomach felt like it was shrivelling up as I took in the news. I carried on eating but the dinner I’d just cooked had lost all its taste, and even Zac had put his fork down, and was looking up expectantly, as if waiting for someone to explain. It was Isaac who finally broke the silence and asked Jesse if he was going to accept.

I saw that Jesse’s lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying, his voice distant and muffled, as if underwater. But I knew from the dismay on my brothers’ faces that the answer was ‘yes’ - Jesse had decided to take the job. He was leaving the City without us.

Jesse told us he had already paid the next three months’ rent out of his relocation package. He planned to come back, briefly, once he had passed his probation period, in order to pack the rest of his stuff and have it shipped to Australia. I felt as if Jesse was trying to convince us that there was still a chance that he might come back for good, but he wasn’t fooling me: he was a good doctor, and considering the lengths the hospital had gone through to recruit him and entice him back to Australia all the way from CANAAN, that probation period was likely to be just a formality.

The days leading up to Jesse’s departure I stayed out of the apartment as much as possible. I went out walking in the neighbourhood and up to the nearest checkpoint - as far as I could safely go on foot. I went by myself, refusing my brothers’ offers to keep me company; I wanted to walk at my own pace, for once, and as quickly as I wanted to, so that I could tire myself out. During these outings, I’d mull things over in my head, always reaching the same conclusion: that I couldn’t lie to Jesse and promise him that he’d be the only one in my life. Unless he was prepared to accept that he’d always have to share my affections with my brothers, there could be no way forward.

On his last night in the City, our farewell party to Jesse consisted of takeaway pizza, which we ate straight from the box while we sat in front of the TV. When Isaac asked who wanted a beer, we all took one, even Zac, who then followed every sip of his bottle with a disgusted grimace.

I wasn’t hungry but eating was something to do, and it was better than thinking. Once the last slice was gone, I sat there, staring at the TV but not really watching it, as I mindlessly tore the outer edges of my empty pizza box into tiny pieces that I piled up in the middle. I barely registered Jesse getting up from the couch until I saw his legs standing right in front of me. I made a point of keeping my eyes fixed on the TV screen.

“Tay, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.”

“In private?” Jesse insisted.

Reluctantly, I followed him into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms tightly against my chest.

“You haven’t talked to me all week. I can’t leave without clearing the air.”

“There’s no air to clear Jesse. You’ve taken the job, you’ve made your choice. If that’s what you want, then do it.”

“Tay, what else was I supposed to do? I told you how I felt about you and you’ve made it pretty clear that you can’t give me what I want from a relationship. And in case you’ve forgotten about it, I’ve lost my job. Apparently hospitals talk to each other because finding work here is proving really, really difficult.”

I let out an exasperated laugh.

“Jesse, you know there’s going to be a job for you soon, if you want it! But you know what, I’m done. We’ve gone through all of this before. Round and round, in circles. I can’t do this anymore. What do you want from me? What do you want me to say to you tonight?”

Jesse looked stung.

“I just …I just wanted you to know that this is not easy for me either. I still love you.”

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it.”

Jesse looked at me, shaking his head.

“Wow. Taylor, did you ever love me at all? Because you haven’t done much to show it either. Your attitude has been, ‘my way or nothing’. So I should give up my career, take a made-up job in some godforsaken outpost of the Southern States, where I’ll be dishing out aspirin to a bunch of recovering cult members, and after work, I should go home and take turns with your brothers in bed. It’s that, or else you’re not interested.”

I forced myself not to raise my voice.

“And you’re not interested unless I give up my brothers, and that’s not going to happen. So I guess there’s no point in talking anymore.”

Jesse nodded slowly. He looked defeated.

“I guess not, then.”

“Good. Now, if you excuse me.”

I helped myself to another beer from the fridge and headed back into the living room. I took a long pull on my bottle, trying to ignore a gnawing sense that not only had I just missed a chance to fix things but also I’d made everything worse.

By the time I got up the next day, Jesse had already left. I wasn’t particularly surprised; there was a big demonstration planned for that morning in the City, and Jesse had been worried about not making it to the airport in time for his early flight. Deep down, though, I’d hoped that he would still knock at our bedroom door to say goodbye one last time before leaving. I’d tried to stay awake so that I could listen out for him in the morning, but I’d ended up sleeping through it. I figured that Jesse had tried to be as quiet as possible as he wheeled his luggage down the hallway, shutting the front door behind him very slowly, without making any noise. I pictured him waiting for his taxi out on the steps, hands stuffed in his pockets in the early morning chill; what was he thinking as the taxi drove him away, did he glance up one last time to look at the home he was leaving, where my brothers and I were still fast asleep?

Now, a depressing stillness blanketed the apartment, the only perceptible sound coming from the kitchen, where the refrigerator hummed stubbornly on. I stared unblinkingly at the orange light on the coffee machine, concentrating on the sound of the water dripping into the pot, grateful to have something to fill the maddening silence. For the first time in my life I now understood what it meant to feel empty: it was almost a physical sensation, as if I’d been hollowed out - as if my heart had been ripped out from my chest. I was numb.

The empty apartment now underscored Jesse’s absence with brutal precision: the guitar was still there, but the violin’s stand now stood empty. The laptop, which Jesse always left open on the coffee table, was gone. Jesse’s house keys were gone from the shelf that covered the radiator by the front door. They were small details, adding to a picture of which Jesse was no longer a part.

When I heard footsteps, I looked up: it was Isaac. He had that look on his face that I’d seen him wear at other times of crisis in our family, when he simultaneously braced himself for the worst and put on a brave face for all of us.

“Hey,” he said, brushing past me on the way to the coffee machine.

As I opened my mouth to say hi, I choked. I pressed my lips together, trying to blink away the tears that were quickly filling my eyes. Now that Isaac was there, something inside me had finally snapped and I broke down, violent sobs shaking me so much that my chest hurt.

Isaac set a cup of coffee on the table and sat down. I felt his hand on the nape of my neck, stroking me in a soothing motion.

“You know, he might realise he’s made a mistake and decide not to take the job, after all.” he said once I’d calmed down a little.

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve.

“Come on, Ike. Even you don’t believe that.”

“Well, if he really loves you, like he said he does, then he’s going to realise that he can’t be happy without you. And he might decide, after the probation period, that that job alone isn’t worth it.” My brother covered my hand with his. “You have to remain positive.”

I let out a bitter laugh.

“Wow. Things must have got really bad if you’re the one telling me to stay positive.”

My brother shrugged. “I don’t know, Tay. It just seems really out of character to me, after all we’ve been through together, to just leave like that? Maybe he’s confused. Scared. It’s possible that he might just need a little time and a chance to miss you.”

“Or a chance to meet someone else.”

“Nah. There’s only one you.” Isaac said, the corners of his mouth twisting into a grin.

I forced myself to smile back, touched by my brother’s attempt to cheer me up.

“Hi both.” Zac said sleepily as he appeared by the kitchen door.

“Hi Zac. Want some hot chocolate?” Isaac said, getting up before Zac could answer.

“Yes, please, Ike.” he said, feeling his way to the nearest chair. “So, has Jesse already left?” he asked me as he sat down.

“Yep.”

Zac exhaled softly. He looked dejected.

“I’m sorry, Tay.” he said, just as the the doorbell rang.

“Who-”

“I’ll go.” Isaac said.

“Remember to check through the peephole first.” I called after him. After all the crazy stuff that had happened to us, I wasn’t taking any more chances. I listened out as my brother opened the front door,  until I recognised Richter’s voice. He was still working for us, and checked in with us daily, but we weren’t expecting him until later.

“Hi Max.” I said, as he followed Isaac into the kitchen. “You’re early.”

“There’s some coffee if you like.” Isaac said.

“I’m good, thanks.” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

“Time for what?” I said.

Richter crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“To get to the airport before Dr Adams’ flight takes off.”

“What?” I blurted.

“Dr Adams has only just got there himself. His taxi got caught in the demo.”

My eyes widened.

“And you know this because…”

“I’ve put a tail on him. Someone in the Mayor’s security detail owed me a favour.” he shrugged.

“But… why-” I stuttered

“Look,” Richter shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Do you want me to drive you to the airport, yes or no? There’s still time.”

“What about the demo though-” I said, surprising myself that I was even contemplating the idea. After all, I’d said everything I could say to Jesse already.

Richter cocked his head to one side and looked at me as if I was an idiot.

“I’m a member of the secret services. You’re not going to be riding in a taxi.”

I considered my options. Maybe there really was a chance that if I got to speak Jesse one more time, he’d change his mind. But what if he didn’t? Then I’d have to deal with his rejection all over again, say good bye to him all over again. I wasn’t sure I was up to that.

I turned to my brothers.

“I don’t know. What shall I do?”

“We can’t tell you what to d-” Isaac began to say.

“Yes, we can.” Zac cut him off. “Go to the airport, find Jesse and don’t let him board that flight.”

 

——

 

It had only taken a few minutes to get out of our leafy, residential neighbourhood - a quick flash of Richter’s badge, and we were waved through the checkpoint without questions. But as we drove towards the City’s downtown business district, where the planned demonstration was taking place, traffic became noticeably heavier. I anxiously studied the road, wondering how on earth we were going to squeeze through the total gridlock of cars.

I glanced nervously at Richter, whose face was as unreadable as ever.

“Max, we’re crawling.”

“I know.”

I stifled a surge of irritation. Richter had come up with the whole idea and assured me that we could get to the airport in time for Jesse’s flight, despite the demo. But now that we were stuck in traffic, I couldn’t see him use any of his special secret agents tricks to get us moving.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” I insisted.

Richter glanced at me and twisted his lips into a smirk, before turning his attention back on the road.

“For fuck’s sake, Max, why did you even drag me out here if we can’t get to the airport in time anyway? I mean, this is absolutely pointless, and you’re not even trying-”

Right in that moment, I heard the high-pitched sound of a siren rapidly approaching somewhere behind us. I glanced at the side mirror: blue lights flashed in the distance, getting closer and closer.

I turned to Richter. He had the faintest approximation of a smile on his face.

“What’s going on now?”

“It’s our snowplough.”

“Our what?” but my words were drowned by the sirens’ wailing as a police van came into view right behind us.

“Max, what’s happening?” I asked, raising my voice over the siren’s deafening wail.

Richter lifted a finger from the steering wheel in a ‘hold on’ gesture.

“Here we go…” Richter said, almost to himself, his lips tightening into a thin line as the police van pulled out and began to overtake us. Then, he turned the steering wheel to one side and pulled out too, diving into the clear path that had now opened in front of us. In an instant, a second police van appeared seemingly out of nowhere and closed up behind us among a chorus of honking horns. Once we were safely sandwiched into the three-piece motorcade, Richter looked into the rearview mirror and raised a hand in greeting, lowering it after the van behind us had flashed its headlights twice in rapid succession. Finally, he glanced at me with a satisfied smirk.

“You …planned this?” I marvelled.

“Affirmative. I told you it was all in hand. Are you going to calm down now? ”

“Yeah but - okay, I didn’t expect that. Are you not going to get into trouble?”

Richter gave me the ‘idiot’ look again.

“I need to get a person of interest to the airport, ASAP, on a day of chaos in the city. I’m a Secret Services agent. The whole idea of Secret Services is that plans tend to be secret. The cops aren’t going to question why. And even if they did, we’d be covered.”

My eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean, ‘covered’?”

Richter did a little shrug. I noticed his fingers were gripping the steering wheel a fraction tighter.

“You spoke to the President?” I asked, lowering my voice despite the fact that there was nobody else in the car.

A muscle twitched on the side of Richter’s jaw. I decided to take that as a ‘yes’.

“Wait, so, the President knows about this?”

Richter hesitated.

“Max?”

“Yes.” he finally admitted. “I had to let him know that Dr Adams had made plans to get to the airport. It’s my job to report back on your movements. For your safety, obviously.” he added.

“And what did he say?”

“He said, “fix it.”

I laughed and shook my head.

“Wow.”

Richter’s face had returned to its usual state - an impassible mask. I waited for him to expand, but his lips stayed pressed shut.

“Seriously, Max: are you trying to tell me that the President gives a damn about my personal life? And he’s okay with you commandeering two police vans to cut through traffic so that we can get to the airport - and then what? Stop the plane? I can’t even say that with a straight face because it’s just too ridiculous.”

“Tell me about it.” Richter threw me a sidelong glance. “I’m going to have a hard time getting used to a normal assignment after your security detail is wrapped up. Never a dull moment with you guys.”

“Very funny.”

I leaned back in my seat and watched the road quietly until we arrived at the Downtown checkpoint. On approaching the barriers, the van in front of us turned off its siren, blue lights still flashing, slowing down without stopping completely as an armed soldier waved it through. We were close behind, and after a perfunctory glance at Richter’s badge, the same soldier signalled that we could cross into the business district.There, the sidewalks were packed with people, most of whom were walking in the same direction in a thick, steady flow that spilled onto the road. I couldn’t see anyone who looked like an Exodus refugee.

“I thought the Exodus people were protesting?”

“Not quite.” Richter glanced at the rearview mirror and slowed down, allowing the van behind us to close the gap between our two vehicles almost completely.

“It’s a demo to protest against the Exodus.” Richter continued. “It’s been organised by the Northern States League, you know those idiots who want to break up the union?

I nodded. Their leader never missed any opportunity to take a shot at the President in the media.

“So you’re going to see a lot of shaved heads out on the streets today, as well as the usual rent-a-mob. They’ve organised speeches at the half point of the route, so I’ll let you guess where that is?”

I shrugged.

“It’s right outside the gates of Blue City.”

“Is that on our way?”

“No. We’re going to take Obama Boulevard South shortly, and then we’ll be on our way to the airport.”           

I let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad I don’t have to see that place again. In fact, I’m glad to be leaving the City soon. It feels like something really bad is about to happen. I can’t explain it.”

Richter glanced at me.

“Something is happening around here, you’re not wrong. Blue City was a well-intended project, but it’s almost a victim of its own success, and it’s diverting all the Exodus migration into the City. So now the refugees have become the perfect scapegoat for the City’s administration. It’s not exactly a welcoming place anymore.”

“It wasn’t exactly welcoming when we arrived. I don’t know what would have happened if we hadn’t met Jesse.”

Just then, a set of traffic lights that we were rapidly approaching turned red.

“Awesome.” I muttered under my breath, until I heard the wail of the police siren.

“Are we really -”

“Yep,” Richter cut me off and stepped on the gas. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

The police vans escorted us to the southern edges of the City, pulling over to the side of the road as we sped past them. Richter flicked the headlights on and off in thanks, and we were off.

Shortly afterwards, we were pulling outside the International Terminal and into a space marked ‘DROP OFF ONLY” in bright yellow paint.

Richter killed the engine and undid his seatbelt.

“Let’s go.”

“Max…”

He looked at me questioningly, one foot already out of the car.

I motioned at the yellow markings on the road.

“Are you sure we can leave the car here?”

Richter blinked.

“Oh. Yeah.” He rummaged inside the glove compartment and extracted a clear plastic pocket with an official-looking piece of paper inside. It said “Government Agency Authorised Vehicle” in large bold letters. Richter rested it on the windshield, with the text facing outside.

“Seriously, Max?” I had to laugh.

“Perks of the job. Now, hurry up.”

Inside, the terminal was bustling with activity - tourists wheeling huge cases behind them, men and women in business suits, families with small children strapped into their strollers. Everybody seemed to have a kind of vacant look on their faces, heads turning from one brightly lit sign to the next, looking for the correct line to join.

I traipsed behind Richter as he hurried toward a set of giant monitors marked ‘DEPARTURES’.

“Which one is Jesse’s?” I asked, realising all of a sudden that I had no idea of what flight we were supposed to look out for.

“Qantas. QF97 to MEL. 11:00 hours. Good thing you’re not in charge of planning.” Richter deadpanned.

“The earliest flight showing is at 3 PM.” I said.

A flicker of annoyance passed on Richter’s face.

“Wait for the board to refresh.” he said, his eyes still fixed on the screens.

A few seconds later, a new page flashed on the monitor. I scanned each line, until I finally saw: “Melbourne - MEL”. Next to it, a warning flashed ominously in red: GATE CLOSING.

“It’s too late, isn’t it.” I said.

“No. Let’s go.”

“But it says gate clos-” I protested.

“I said - let’s go.”

I stifled a wave of annoyance and began to follow Richter again as he zig-zagged through the crowded terminal, matching his long strides with mine, until we crossed to the other side of the building, past the check-in desks and the airlines ticket booths. There, we stopped in front of a set of double doors marked  ‘AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY’.

“Don’t tell me you have another secret agent trick up your sleeve.” I said, watching Richter in disbelief as he fished something out from the inside pocket of his jacket. He handed me a lanyard carrying a laminated pass with a capital “A”. He put the other one around his neck.

“Unbelievable.” I said, doing the same.

Once we were through the doors, the personnel-only side of the terminal turned out to be an airless warren, where the only directions were cheaply printed signs stuck to the wall inside punched plastic pockets - a far cry from the dazzling high-tech look of the public side.

I jogged behind Richter, until we reached an elevator at the bottom of a stairwell. I wiped the sweat that was now beading on my forehead, grateful for a chance to catch my breath.

“Where to?” I asked.

“Airside. 5^th floor. Let’s go.” Richter said, making for the stairs.

“Hold on, would it not be quicker to take the elevator?”

“Elevators get stuck.” Richter said, pulling out his cellphone. Still running up the stairs, he tapped a number into the keypad.

“Aceveda?, Agent Richter. Has he gone through?…OK… call the HomeSec monkeys and say he’s been flagged for secondary.”

“Wait, what does that mean ‘flagged for secondary’?” I asked as Richter shoved his phone back inside his pocket.

“It means that we’ve just bought ourselves another ten minutes.”

At last, we got to a landing marked ‘5 - AIRSIDE’. Back inside the departures lounge, I struggled to keep up with Richter as he headed straight for the back of the concourse, where several rooms flanked the wall. The door of Interview Room 3 had been left ajar.

“What do you mean you need to verify my passport!” Jesse’s voice sounded strained from inside the room. “I’ve already been through security… I told you, I’m an Australian citizen, travelling to Australia…!”

As Richter pushed the door open, I saw Jesse sitting with his back to us, his hands gripping his knees as if to stop himself from throttling the Homeland Security officer who was interrogating him from the other side of a table.

“Max Richter, Special Agent.” Richter said, clearing his throat.

Jesse pivoted on his chair, blinking at the sight of us.

“Richter?”

He registered that I was also in the room and his eyes widened.

“Taylor? What are you doing here?”

“I think we can take it from here, thank you.” Richter told the Homeland Security Officer. “You can talk now,” he said once the man had left the room, “but I will have to stay here, or it might look suspicious.”

Jesse stood up.“Suspicious? No shit. Let’s start with: what the hell are you doing here?” he looked at Richter and me in turns. “Max, did he put you up to this?”

“Negative. This was entirely my idea. You go ahead and talk it out now. We don’t have all day.” Richter said, leaning with his back on the closed door.

I moved toward Jesse, but he he took a step back and stuck out his hand, as if to stop me.

“Jesse, come on.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t - tell you sooner.”

“Tell me what?” he said, with a jerk of his chin.

I hesitated, all too conscious that Richter was standing right behind me.

Jesse crossed his arms in front of his chest and cocked his head to one side.

“Tell me what, Taylor?”

“…that I love you.” I half-whispered.

“It’s a bit late for that, mate.”

“No, it’s not, and deep down you know it. You don’t have to board that plane. You can come back with us, and move to the Southern States when we do. There’s even a job there waiting for you. And I’ll prove it to you that I’m serious about us.”

“Prove it how?”

I stepped a little closer to him again.

“However you want,” I said, heartened by the fact that Jesse had at least not recoiled. “We will work it out. I promise.”

Jesse’s face softened.

“Taylor, even if that were the case, what do you expect me to do? I’ve accepted a really well paid position, made a commitment to my Professor-”

“Fuck the professor!”

He half-laughed.

“So that’s it? I should burn all bridges with someone who is trying to help my career, and drop everything to follow you to Fucksville, Southern States, just because you took your sweet time to make up your mind about us?”

“No! I mean, yes. I’m not saying you should burn all your bridges but I love you, and you love me, and this is too important to give it up for a job.”

Jesse fixed me with a withering look.

“So say that I come with you, then what? Beg your father for a job and be indebted to him for the rest of my life?”

“You won’t be. He told you how grateful he is for what you’ve done for us. He might be a politician, Jesse, he might be rich and arrogant but he meant what he said.”

“But I don’t want my career to be built on someone owing me a favour, Taylor,” Jesse said. “And believe it or not, I have ambitions. I’m not sure if I’m ready to drop everything I’ve worked  toward, for some crappy community clinic in the middle of nowhere.”

“That crappy community clinic could be your chance to build something from scratch, not to mention help people and be with me. Is that really such an awful prospect?”

Jesse shook his head.

“I don’t know Taylor. I… this is crazy. I’m supposed to be boarding a plane right now.”

“Allow me to butt in.” Richter said behind me. “With or without you, when the relocation happens, there will need to be a new community hospital. The President will no doubt make sure the project is well-funded, because, of course, that’s going to make him look good. He’s not an idiot. He’s the one who closed down the Compound and now he’s going to show voters that he’s a man who follows through. And you - you’re the poster boy for a certain type of medicine with principles. The President needs you for this project as much as you need a job. And obviously, you’d have another huge incentive to go…” Richter jerked his head at me and shrugged.

Jesse let out an incredulous laugh.

“Max, you’re not seriously trying the emotional blackmail card with me, are you?”

“I’m trying to stop a friend from making a really dumb decision. You may well become the best paid doctor in Australia, but when you go back to an empty home, night after night, you’ll wish you’d taken that job in Fucksville, Southern States, close to the person you love.”

Judging from Jesse’s face, he was as stunned as I was to hear Richter’s relationship advice. Even if I considered Max a friend, it was still rare to get more than a few words out of him, and as much as my brothers and I had tried to dig, Richer had always remained tight-lipped about his personal life.

There was a knock on the door, and the Homeland Security officer poked his head into the room.

“Just checking if the passenger’s credentials have been verified, Agent…-” the officer’s eyes travelled down to the laminate around Richter’s neck.

“Richter.”

“Agent Richter. The plane is fully boarded and ready to depart so, when you’re ready-”

“Sure. Five minutes.”

The officer cleared his throat.

“The Captain has radioed that they’re going to lose their slot so-”

“Five minutes, officer.” Richter put his hand on the door and began to push it, forcing the man to step backwards until the door clicked shut.

Richter stepped in front of the entrance and crossed his arms.

“Okay, you two: time to make up your minds.”

I looked at Jesse pleadingly.

“Jesse…”

“Taylor, this is not how I make decisions…with a plane waiting for me on the runway. It’s fucking crazy.”

I saw a cloud of uncertainty in his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier, and went for it. “I don’t know what else to say, Jesse.” My voice cracked. “All I can say is, that if you go, I’ll miss you more than I can even tell you. You’re not just leaving me. You’re leaving Isaac and Zac too.”

Jesse turned his eyes upwards, as if looking for some kind of help from above. “I’m sorry Taylor,” he said, after a long moment. “I can’t let the Professor down, or the hospital. Please, try to understand.” he said, squeezing the top of my arm. I jerked it free, as a wave of desolation crashed over me; suddenly, all I wanted was to leave that airless room, find the nearest bathroom and be sick.

“Don’t ask me to understand.”I turned to Richter. “Let’s go, Max.”

Richter hesitated, glaring at Jesse.

“Max, it’s over. Let’s go.”

Without saying a word, Richter turned his back to Jesse and opened the door. He beckoned the Homeland Security officer over.

“Officer, please allow Dr Adams to board.”

I followed Richter out the room as quickly as I could, trying to order the thing in my chest to stop pummelling me. I willed myself to match Richter’s long strides and think about nothing else, trusting Max with the task of getting me out of the airport in the shortest possible time. I needed to be home with my brothers, away from people and above all, away from Jesse. Then I would allow myself to fall apart. But for now, all that mattered was to put one leg in front of the other, and keep walking.

I felt a hand on my back, and my heart tightened at Richter’s show of kindness as he steered me away from a group of cabin crew who were suddenly pouring out of a nearby gate. They paraded past us, looking proud in their navy uniforms, heels clacking upbeat over the low rumbling of a dozen carry-ons wheels.

We stood to one side until the pilots, last in the group, passed us and nodded in thanks. Finally, I thought, and took a step forward. But then I heard footsteps running and getting closer, and someone calling out my name. It can’t be, I told myself, but my feet were nailed to the floor and refusing to move. I willed myself not to turn around and look - it can’t be.

But the footsteps got closer and louder, then halted somewhere behind me. I heard my name again and I knew I’d heard right, and when I turned around, he was right there.

“…Tay!”

Chapter Text

Zac

“Thanks for all your help today, Greta. I’m glad we got that assignment out of the way.”

I see her out, and we agree on the same time tomorrow. Greta was the Compound’s Head of Communications, but we’d never crossed paths until she arrived at the Resettlement Center for her orientation interview. That’s when we try to find out what kind of skills and qualifications ex-members have, so that we can help them find a job, or at least some voluntary work. When Greta said she had a college degree, we got talking about my studies. I told her how having to use the speech recognition software to write my papers was really slowing down my progress, but with Taylor busy with his own coursework, and Isaac struggling with writing in general, I was stuck with Ninja Speech XPress.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Greta had said, and so now, several times a week, she comes over to the house and with infinite patience helps me put my thoughts in writing. Unlike Ninja Speech XPress, Greta has no problem understanding my voice.

We usually work for two, three hours a day on the weekly assignments set by my personal tutor. I’m taking a distance learning course for people without a formal education and I need to pass the examination at the end if I want to apply for college. The amount of coursework involved is insane, but I’m determined to get into the degree program and become a qualified teacher. Greta teases me and calls me a nerd; I tease her back, and call her Miss Ivy League. I love her stories about college and life on campus; like how, in winter, she’d have to take a blanket to the American Literature class because the building was so old and the heating so inadequate that the lecture theatre would never get warm. Or how she’d often stay up until two or three in the morning, drinking coffee with friends and having deep conversations about the most disparate subjects, and then she’d dose up on caffeine tablets just to stay awake in class the next morning. College life sure sounds like hard work.

Greta did some research and found two Ivy League universities offering the degree course I want to do, as an online program, and she thinks I should apply. “I believe in you, nerdy boy,” she says - and maybe I’m beginning to believe in me, too. For the first time in my life, I’m really excited about the future.

It’s been a few months since we moved to the Southern States, and I don’t miss the City one bit. Now I realize that I’d been feeling hemmed in all my life; first by the Compound walls, then cooped up in Jesse’s apartment for months, never venturing out too far in case something bad happened. It was suffocating.

Our new house is large and airy, and so close to the beach that I can walk there by myself whenever I want, without having to ask my brothers to come with me. At night, if the wind blows in the right direction, I can hear the ocean. I have my own room now - the relocation agent assumed we would need three bedrooms, so that’s what we got. At first, I only used the room to store my stuff, but after a while I started to spend a lot of time there by myself, playing guitar, working on my school program. Now that we all get up at different times, we usually only share a bed at weekends, so we don’t disturb each other. I’m not afraid of sleeping by myself anymore - in fact, there are a lot of things I’m not afraid of anymore.

The Resettlement Project is going well. The members who have agreed to relocate are being housed around here and in neighbouring towns; we place a few families in the same area, so that they can rely on one another for immediate support, but we’re very careful not to take over entire neighbourhoods. We don’t want any friction with the local communities and we definitely don’t want the resettlers to become a closed, cliquey group that refuses to mix out of suspicion or fear. It’s scary to be out on the Outside: I am only too familiar with that sense of displacement, of not knowing where you belong, or if you will ever belong.

The Compound, Blue City, our first few nights in Jesse’s apartment - when I think back to those times, it’s like reading a story about somebody else. I know it all happened, but I had no input in how it happened. At first I was too sick to make decisions, and by the time my health recovered, I was too damaged inside. I did the only thing I could do at that point - I took it one day at a time, trusting that my brothers would eventually navigate us out of the storm and into calmer waters. Maybe I should have been less selfish, I should have showed them more gratitude, but I was using every last drop of life that was left in me to make it through the next day. I was trying to heal.

I let my brothers carry me, but I’m there now. The change happened gradually, but picking up a guitar was the turning point: it brought me out of the shell I’d retreated into, and showed me that I could still learn something. The months that followed were hard, and there were times when everything we did seemed pointless, as we hit brick wall after brick wall. Then I’d master another chord, and then another one, and inch by inch, I clawed my way out of the pit.

I help others now.

In my work as Community Liaison, I go out and talk to community leaders, teachers and ministers. My job is to reassure them that their new neighbours are just regular people, not crazy cult members who should be feared. It had never crossed my mind that ‘we,’ the Compound people, could ever be seen as anything other than victims, but apparently people believe the most ridiculous stories, and a quick search on the internet shows up page after page of crazy rumours about the Flock. After Dylan sold his story, a few former Church members did the same, embellishing their ‘exclusive testimonies’ with all sorts of made-up stuff about sex in the Compound. Although I can’t change what’s already been said, I can reach out and talk to people, and offer to answer their questions. Most of the time, they’ll be surprised and relieved to discover that the strangers who have moved in next door only want the same things that they do - a place to call home, the freedom to hope for a better future.

If it doesn’t sound like much, it’s because in the Flock we weren’t allowed to have big dreams. Behind the Compound walls, our only dream was to one day join the March to Salvation - and that turned out to be a conman’s fantasy. But this is CANAAN, and people here dream big. And yes I will go to college, I will become a teacher, I will make a difference. I will show them that everything is possible, even for Zachary Anderson, the blind man who escaped that crazy cult called The Flock with his two brothers.

To a lot of people my story sounds extraordinary, but to me, this is where my life begins.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Taylor

I was sad to leave the City.

I’d learnt to see the beauty of its jagged skyline, the low, constant hum rising from the streets, like the snoring of a sleeping animal you don’t want to rouse. I loved the night sky, all dotted with lights from townhouses and apartment blocks, each window telling a different story through open curtains - an invitation to peer in by people who were not afraid of strangers.

It was only in our last few weeks there that I really got to know the City. After the media frenzy died down, I started to explore by myself, crossing the checkpoints, getting lost in the subway. I’d find a café and sit by the window, watching the flow of people walking by - shoppers, office workers, dustmen pushing heavy carts that sucked trash into a tube. I went to bookstores and ventured into public libraries, and at first I was so overwhelmed by choice that I’d come out empty-handed. I started to carry some crackers with me, just so that I could feed the pigeons and the squirrels if I happened to walk through a park.

During those last few weeks, I spent a day each at the Natural History Museum and the Museum of Contemporary Photography; a morning at a famous architect’s former house and studio, and a rainy afternoon stargazing in the Planetarium. I went back to the Art Institute several times, each time more confused than before as I tried to take too much in, because time was running out and I knew we would soon have to leave.

Now, what I call home is a town by the ocean, down in the Southern States, hundreds of miles away from the City, and things couldn’t be more different.

We have been here for a few months, but I’m still not used to having all this space around me, and to see big, open skies instead of bricks and concrete. I’ve skipped the fishing museum for now, but I’ve found a good bookstore where I’m already on first name terms with the owner. I still miss the City, but when I see Zac walking along the beach with his cane, perfectly comfortable on his own, I’m reminded that we made the right choice.

Richter stayed in town for a few weeks after we got here, to help us settle in. He’s been reassigned to the President’s security detail now; it’s a huge promotion, but Max says that the new job is not half as eventful as working for us was. He’s come back to see us a few times already, and although I’m guessing the President is encouraging these trips, I’m glad Max is still in our lives, not as our security, but as a friend.

The Community Health Center is up and running, providing subsidised healthcare not only to the resettlers, but also to a lot of local people. For now, I work there as a Nursing Assistant, but I’m taking a distance learning course that will allow me to apply to nursing school next year.

Jesse has been appointed as the clinic’s Medical Director - a job involving a lot of meetings and not much actual medical work. So, once a week, Jesse drives an hour to a large teaching hospital and works a shift in the ER, to keep his hand in emergency medicine. That was one of his conditions for taking the job; the other was that we would not live together with Zac and Isaac. Jesse said we needed to have time by ourselves, as a couple. To my surprise, my brothers took it incredibly well.

So now I spend half the week at Jesse’s place, which is only a few minutes down the road from us. I keep some of my clothes there, and a duplicate set of toiletries. Bit by bit, I’m also filling Jesse’s kitchen cupboards with all the essentials for cooking, and some of my books have found a home on his shelves. It was a little weird at first, but now I’ve got used to splitting my life between two homes. Besides, when I’m at my other home, the one I share with my brothers, it’s the three of us again, our tiny family unit, like we were at the Compound. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed that.

It’s an unusual arrangement, a compromise, and I know that Jesse wants more. He has talked about getting married, and even adopting a baby or finding a surrogate mother. But it’s just talk: it would never work unless it was just the two of us - and we both know that I could never choose. I’m happy with the way things are now. For me, that’s enough.

Although the Resettlement Project hasn’t attracted much publicity, there’s still a lot of interest in us - the Anderson Brothers, who escaped from The Flock. We only give interviews to respectable media outlets, but even so, after a very uncomfortable first appearance on Insight at 9 , we decided to hire a publicist. Now, before we get anywhere near a camera or microphone, Rebecca will have briefed the interviewer in advance and told them that she will end the interview if the subject strays from what we’ve agreed on. I tell myself that talking to the media will help others; I want to think that maybe our story will act as a warning and stop someone from making a very bad decision. If even only one person ends up walking away from the wrong kind of influence, it will be worth it. But I’m also looking forward to the day when the phone stops ringing, when the Anderson brothers will just be a name in a Wikipedia page about a wacky religion that no one remembers anymore. One day, maybe the past will be allowed to be just that: the past.

For now, I enjoy the present. I love having a house, a job, a future. I can’t help smiling to myself when I see Isaac leave for work in his perfectly ironed suit, not a hair out of place, confident as he’s never been before. Years of uncertainty and worry have left his brow etched with deep lines, but that dark, haunted look in his eyes has gone, replaced by a lightness I hadn’t seen on my oldest brother since we were children.

As for Zac, it’s strange to think that my brother’s sight was a tradeoff for our freedom - without which, our story would be a very different one now. And although he didn’t ask for any of it, it was his blindness that got us where we are today. It makes me so proud that my little brother, who was once so broken, has now become such a strong, quiet force for good.

And then, there’s Jesse, who helped us when nobody else would. Jesse, who fed us, clothed us, and healed us. Who showed me the kind of love I never thought I’d find.

I nearly lost him once, but I won’t let it happen again.

When I think of what I’ve got, I feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Isaac

 I like it here. I liked the City too, but this was never about me - it was about Zac and Taylor, and what was best for them. There was a point, when Jesse was moving back to Australia, when I even thought we could follow him there. I would have done that for Taylor, in fact, I would have gone anywhere for my brothers. What can I say? I’m no leader, but I’m a good follower, and I’m okay with that. I’m not like Zac and Taylor; I don’t have their confidence, their charisma, let alone their looks. There’s no point in denying it: my brothers have something about them that makes them stand out, something that makes people want to be around them. It’s that indefinable ‘it’ that turns people’s heads when Taylor walks into a room; it’s the way the audience will hang on Zac’s every word during his talks. It’s amazing to watch him, time after time, and see his confidence grow, and it’s also becoming clear that my brother is getting a name for himself in the local community.

When I told the President, he sounded pleased, as if he’d just won a bet with himself.

“I knew he had it in him.”

“Had what?”

“That politician thing. He’ll be kissing babies soon.”

Although so far nobody has handed Zac babies to kiss, it’s definitely becoming harder to extricate him from the circle of people that form around him at the end of meetings. Not wanting to disappoint, he usually stops and talks to everybody, while I introduce one person after another to him - “Zac, this is Mrs. Garcia, she is concerned about the park closure.” For those couple of minutes, my brother will give the person in front of him his undivided attention, because when he’s listening to you, he’s really listening to you - as if there is nothing he’d like more, right now, than to discuss the park closure. Things only grind to a halt when someone wants a photo with the blind former cult member who escaped from the Compound . Zac doesn’t do photos, and when someone gets their cellphone out, that’s my cue to call it a day and drive us home. Yes, now that I have a driver’s license, I’ve become Zac’s driver, as well as his minder and bodyguard.

As I said, I’m no leader.

Like my brothers, though, I do have a paid job, overseeing the construction sites of the new facilities we’re building for the resettlement. There’s a Community Health Center, which is temporarily operating from a former veterinary clinic; a school - currently housed in a prefab, and a block of low-cost housing. I’m a project manager, a title I was initially reluctant to use, because other than doing odd jobs for Jesse’s neighbors, I’d never really worked on the Outside. How could I manage a whole project? On my first day at the construction site, figuring a manager would need to dress smartly, I turned up in one of the suits I’d worn during the trial. That got me a few funny looks and comments from the contractors, who obviously thought I was completely clueless. Turns out, years of working in the Compound Facilities Team have actually taught me quite a lot. When the men on the site realized that I could do my job, they quickly dropped the attitude, and I’ve been wearing a suit to work ever since.

But what I consider my real job is something else, something I don’t get paid for. Back at Camp David, I’d promised my father that I’d be the head of the family, and that I’d keep my brothers and I together, at whatever cost. So when Jesse insisted that we live separately, I was the one who talked Zac into it. The whole idea was difficult for all of us, but it was especially tough on Zac: he and Taylor had never even had their own bed. It took a while to make him understand that this was a compromise we had to make if we wanted Taylor to be happy and not resent us. That if we wanted our relationship to stay as it was, things would have to change.  

It wasn’t easy at first, especially on the first few nights that Taylor spent at Jesse’s place. Zac and I clung to each other as if the world was about to end, I, drinking a lot, Zac, comfort eating as much, neither of us getting much sleep. Zac would doze, resting his head on my chest like he did when we waited for Taylor to come back to our tent in Blue City. I’d play with his hair and watch TV with the sound turned down low, hoping that a never-ending black and white documentary on the Vietnam War would send me to sleep, but even that didn’t work, and by the time I’d finally go under due to sheer exhaustion, it was time to get up. But then Taylor would come home, always looking happy to see us, almost self-consciously more affectionate than before, and everything would be okay again. So for a few weeks, we all acted a little weird to each other, until weird became normal and normal became Taylor coming and going between his two homes. We got used to it.

At least once a week, all four of us eat together. Jesse says we’re like a big dysfunctional family, like the ones you only thought existed in movies - only more so. I can’t argue with that, especially when it comes to our parents. My brothers and I are back in touch with our mother, who is still in WITSEC and probably will be for a long time. We speak to her every two or three weeks, but never on the same day of the week, and the call has to go through Richter, who will then patch it through to her on a secure line. Even we are not allowed to know the number.

I don’t know if I will ever be able to truly forgive her for what she did, or rather, for what she didn’t do to protect us. But my brothers feel differently - they have found it easier to move on, despite the fact that they’re the ones who suffered the most for our mother’s neglect. Maybe one day I will come round too, but for now, I make an effort to stay in touch, just to keep the fabric from fraying even further.

Since our trip to Camp David, we’ve only seen our father once, when he came to visit the resettlement. It was a very low-key visit, with no publicity other than an unstaged photo of the President shaking the hand of an incredulous cleaner. In public, there was none of the warmth our father had displayed at Camp David. He was here as the President, and he looked every inch the self-congratulating politician as he walked around the sites to see the result of his actions finally pay off.

Before he had to leave, the President asked to have a few minutes with us alone. Over coffee in the Health Center’s stuffy breakroom, our father enquired about my brothers’ studies and congratulated me on getting my driving license. He made small talk, leading the conversation; there was no chance to speak to him on my own.

When we said our goodbyes, I waited for him to say something, a last minute reassurance, but the moment came and went and then security whisked the President away. I watched the car go around the curve and disappear from view, wondering how much longer I’d have to wait before my father kept his promise.

— — —

It’s Sunday morning, and Taylor slept at home last night. At weekends we get up late, have breakfast late, and generally spend the first part of the day lazying around and making the most of each other’s company. But we have a visitor today: Richter. He flew in from the Capital last night so that he could be at Jesse’s first thing in the morning, in time to hit the waves. Because since our move to the coast, Max has got back into surfing, something we never even knew he did in the first place, and now he even keeps a board in Jesse’s garage.

Later, Jesse is going to treat us all to his famous barbecue, or ‘barbie’, as he calls it. The outdoor gas burner was one of the first things Jesse bought for his house, and somehow he talked us into getting one too, but he’s actually the only one who’s ever used it so far.

I give the house a quick tidy-up, while Taylor is in the kitchen doing all the food prep - mixing salad, slicing burger buns but mostly keeping Zac away from the giant bags of chips that we always seem to need with a barbecue. As usual, my brothers have bought enough food to feed an army.

I’m running the vacuum upstairs, when I hear a car pull over outside. I check my watch: it’s too early, they’re still supposed to be in the water. Besides, Jesse’s place is only a few minutes’ walk from here and they wouldn’t need to drive. I look out of my bedroom window: the car outside is a very familiar unmarked black Oblivion. It makes no sense: when Richter visits, he’s off-duty so he just picks up a rental car at the airport. Instantly, a familiar sense of dread grips my gut, and despite the hot sunlight flooding through the glass pane, a chill runs down my spine. An Oblivion outside the house - and without Richter - can only mean bad news. I stand frozen, watching, waiting for the car doors to open. I don’t think Taylor and Zac heard anything, there’s music coming from the kitchen, which is at the back of the house. Maybe I have enough time to run downstairs and get them, maybe we can still get away and run to Jesse’s. Richter is there, he will know what to do. But I am trapped by my indecision, and when the car door finally opens on the driver’s side, I know that I’ve left it too late.

It takes me a second or two to realize that I know the man who’s just got out of the car and who is now walking to the passenger’s side: it’s Richter. He’s wearing a black suit and mirrored sunglasses and doesn’t look like someone who’s just been surfing. He turns his back to me as he opens the passenger door, and I find myself holding my breath, trying to guess what the most likely out of several highly unlikely scenarios is actually unfolding right now. I’m thinking a surprise visit from the President, when a woman’s leg swings out of the car, setting a high-heeled foot on the ground. She steps out, and the pink and red flowers on her dress look loud and out of place in the bleached noon sunlight. She lifts her sunglasses and rests them on top of her head, halting the cascade of auburn curls just in time for me to see her face. I know I’ve seen her before, but it still takes me a moment, because it doesn’t make sense, none of it does.

As if he’s realizing I’m watching them, Richter looks up, tilting his chin ever so slightly in an approximation of a greeting. He turns to the woman again, pointing toward the window with a flick of his index finger. She turns her face upwards and stares at me for what feels like a very long time, until the corners of her mouth twist into a tentative smile.

It’s in that smile that I finally see my father’s reflection, my brothers’, and my own.

I know who she is now - she’s one of us.

I bound down the stairs to greet my sister.