CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Seven days have passed since Edward left my bed leaving me desperate. How I've presented myself to friends and family as a coherent, functioning adult since is a wonder. Zero useful sleep – okay I've dozed on and off – but my body feels like it's wading through molasses.
I should feel elated because now I can see a route to what I hope will become freedom of some description. However, I'm intelligent enough to realize that the path will be littered with obstacles thrown there by whoever is in the Elders' Compound, and whatever lies beyond the Wastelands. Fighting an invisible enemy will be infinitely more difficult than dealing with a more local adversary but that's what we'll have to do.
Numerous scenarios centered on how I'm to convince the community that it has to rise against the Elders go through my head every waking moment. After hours and hours of thought, I've concluded that the order in which proof of the Elders' collusion with the Old World gets spread across Lympi is vital, and even more so, the method of how this is done.
'The Gang,' which is how I refer to the group who gathered in Eric's playroom, will need to be convinced that whatever we decide as a plan will work. Their family's livelihoods will be at risk if the uprising fails and we are held accountable. Producing strong evidence that the Catchers only take sick people is my priority, if that's true of course, which is why I'm outside the Distribution Center waiting for Jess and Jack to come out.
Both Mr and Mrs Smith agreed to cooperate after Jess dropped them an emotional note about setting up a memorial garden to remember the lives of those like her mother who the Catchers had taken. Jess and Jack have been in there for over an hour now. Star is getting restless. Jupiter is having a great time playing fetch with Callum when he's not dealing with folks dropping off or picking up supplies. I've parked Star under some trees for shade, and this is where I'm slumped on the cart's seat with my feet resting on Star's haunches dreaming of the day Edward sweeps in to rescue me from my fate.
I'd been tempted to ask Uncle Michael directly whether he'd noticed his sicker patients were suddenly being whisked away but had decided against doing that for now. For as long as I can remember, Uncle Michael despises the Elders more than any adult I know, but that fact is only known by those he can trust. Even though the chances of him supporting our efforts are high, I've decided I mustn't put him or Mike on the spot until I have unquestionable proof. The town needs the Newton family in the Medical Center more than I need his confirmation or even his suspicion of the Elders' conspiracy, especially as the information can be obtained via the Smiths.
Jessica appears waving a sheet of paper in her hand. Jack follows close behind looking pleased, which I take as an indication of success. I whistle for Jupiter who after encouragement from Callum, trots back to the cart. As soon as he's on the flatbed, he collapses onto his side and falls asleep.
"We've got twenty names," Jess says as she climbs up next to me. Jack clambers onto the flatbed and settles down with his head on Jupiter's belly. Jupiter snorts a welcome and closes his eyes again.
"Wow, twenty!" I exclaim as Star moves off. "How far does that go back?"
"About fifteen years. Mrs. Smith remembers most of them but I didn't press her for more information. She said what I've suggested is a wonderful idea, but asked whether we'd run it past the Elders. I told her no because I couldn't think of a good reason why we should."
"What did she say to that?"
"Nothing – she just looked a bit surprised. Mr Smith is on our side though. He agreed it was none of their business. I said it was only an idea for now. We would have to visit the families and get their permission first, and then we might tell the Elders."
"Good thinking," I respond. "We need to do this quickly though. Can we spread the family visits around the Gang? If we do two or three each, we could get it done in a week."
"Why the hurry?" Jess asks.
"Because I'm positive things are going to kick off soon. Can't you feel it too?"
Jessica turns to look at me and I know she's bursting with questions. Her eyes are sparkling for the first time since her mother disappeared. I put this down to her belief she could still be alive, and from having a purpose which is also a distraction from the overwhelming loss both she and Jack are suffering. I've guessed what she's about to say before she opens her mouth.
"You do know something you're not telling, don't you, Bella?" Jess moves closer to whisper in my ear. "I overheard what Angela said in the hall. She's noticed a change in you since the party and I'm starting to notice it too, so don't even try to deny it. There's a confidence in you that's never been there before. Instead of old Bella raging against injustice but with her usual air of despair, new Bella has the cockiness of a person who has seen through a lie. What are you holding back, Bella? You have to tell us."
I desperately want to confide in someone, but if I do, that someone would have to be Mike. He'd be devastated if he found out I told another person about Edward before him. Jess needs a response though or I'll get an ear-bashing from here to her house. My mind works quickly about what to say to keep her satisfied for the moment.
"You and Angela know me too well, Jess," I start with a laugh, trying very hard not to sound patronizing.
"Alright, a few nights ago I had a long chat with Charlie about the border and what does and doesn't lie behind it. He confirmed the story about the Catchers not being feral creatures which is what Jack said too, but he also disclosed other things about the Elders. I'm not going to say anything now because I made a promise, but when the time is right I'll tell all of you together. I give you my word, Jess, so please don't press me right now.
Her eyes narrow. She's not convinced.
"Bullshit," Jess hisses loud enough for Jack to hear. He snorts a laugh. I suspect he hasn't heard his sister curse before. Jess hasn't finished with me though.
"You were different at the party, Bella. Wilful, carefree. Something happened between your birthday and the party, and I guess it's what spurred you on to what you're doing now. Look, if you've made a promise to your dad or anyone else, I won't ask you to break it. But tell me, yes or no, do you have more information about the Catchers or the Elders that you won't, or can't, or for some reason, you're unable to tell us yet?
There's no point in saying no. I'll have to tell everyone about Edward soon, so I nod in affirmation.
"I knew it," Jess says and bounces on the seat like a five-year-old. Star rattles her harness to show displeasure. "Sorry," Jess apologizes and leans forward to pat Star's backside which is dangerous when the cart is moving. "Careful," I admonish her but that doesn't wipe the smug expression from her face. I smile internally when I imagine the smugness turning to disbelief if she ever sets eyes on Edward.
Edward
From this elevation, the greenest swathe of the fifteen hundred square miles of what remains of the Olympic Peninsula seems like an idyllic spot to live. A thousand years ago when it was twice this size it certainly was. Now, 'Lympi' is no more than a medieval prison filled with people without the wit or the backbone to question or challenge their existence, apart from Bella of course, and previously her grandmother.
For those in the know, the reason why this verdant peninsula was chosen by the lunatic officials who thought up the Experiment five hundred years previously, is patently obvious, even for those with very small brains. Those long-dead, manipulative, scheming, do-gooders who were determined to prove a point, made every effort to ensure that when the Experiment came to an end, the answer they were contriving to obtain would be proved by this community and all the other experimental communities spread across the world.
First, pick a spot on Earth where the land doesn't bite. Minimal geographical issues other than an occasional mild earthquake, an absence of volcanoes, tornadoes, severe hurricanes, or other unexplainable events that were perceived in the past by primitive humans as a punishment inflicted by angry Gods or other demented deities, would be ideal. These government officials knew from history that from such disasters the earliest religions were born. Give a community a plentiful, secure, fertile land, with abundant wildlife and a relatively stable weather pattern, and no questions would be engendered, no answers required, no superstitions invented, no sacrifices given, no salvation sought. This peninsula ticked every fucking box.
Faith leaders' claims that religion would blossom in an isolated community in less than a thousand years stood little to no chance of success. In Lympi's case, the Experiment was taking place not just in a perfect environment, but in a population being taught from an early age basic evolutionary science and the structure of the Cosmos, which is against the terms of the agreement drawn up and approved by both sides. Not in a thousand years, or even five thousand, would Lympians begin the search for a deity to save them and then worship? Why would they, when the evolution of Man was being explained to them from the first grade upwards in words of one syllable?
For three days I've squatted on this lump of rock high on Mount Olympus. My only companions have been curious eagles and other high-flying birds that circle and hunt during daylight hours. Occasionally they dive at my head to check me out but with the instinct to swoop away at the last second. Who says humans are the clever ones, when most birds and animals are more tuned to the land beneath their feet and the air around them, and, of course, to predators?
Before the seas rose, the spot where I'm perched marked the center of the peninsula. I'd often climb up here with Emmett and occasionally Alice to taste the cleanest air in the USA, other than Alaskan air, and to enjoy the view and experience complete isolation. We'd race each other to the summit, jumping from crag to crag, swinging from outcrops, not caring a jot that a birdwatcher with binoculars trained on the mountain, might spot us behaving like idiots. After the catastrophe, the peninsula became an island for a short while. Now the mountain towers over the northern third of what remains after the sea levels receded to where they are now.
Lympi is still beautiful, but what was here before was even more so. I still mourn the loss of what I perceived to be the closest thing to Heaven on Earth. My family will never stop referring to our house in the forest as 'home.' One day I'll rebuild it, and if I have my way, Bella will live there with me as my wife, whether it's only for a season or eternity.
Oh, how I want to go down to that wretched community and throw a bomb into the middle of it. Maybe if I explained to Bella where her favorite expression 'Jeepers' comes from, that might sew a seed that will fuck up the Experiment. I'm amazed that word slipped through the thesaurus net five hundred years ago. Maybe the lunatic in charge of censorship didn't understand its origin?
I'd need to be on the east-facing side of the mountain to view the grotesque tower that I now have to call home. The sun will be setting soon. Carlisle will be looking west as usual. Alice will be cuddled up with Jasper. Esme? Probably reading, or listening to music. Emmett and Rosalie? Watching old movies or screwing - most likely doing both - haha. I just hope Carlisle has been able to cover for me or I'll be in serious shit with the government when I go back. No … I'll change that to if I go back.
Should I stay another night up here watching over my girl, or is it time to light the virtual touch paper and roll a fucking great bomb into the Elders' compound?
Decisions decisions.
Bella
Another cold, lonely, night. From being hot and sunny two days ago, the temperature has plummeted. Even Jupiter has taken root in front of the wood burner rather than my bed or outside the door. Clever doggy. The fields will be glistening in the morning and not with summer dew. Mom got the heavier quilts out of the trunk this afternoon one month earlier than usual. I'm still cold though, despite rubbing my hands up and down my arms to warm them and wearing socks on my feet. Maybe that's through being over-tired? I can't switch off but at least I have one less thing to worry about. I've not been troubled by Jake since Charlie spoke to Billy Black. I still can't trust him. Boys like Jake hate losing. I suspect he'll raise his entitled head again when he presumes I've let my guard down.
Mom wanted to know more about Jess' idea of setting up a memorial to her mom. This presented the perfect opportunity to question her about Gran's health before she disappeared. While Mom was cooking dinner, I asked her in a roundabout way. I didn't want her to suspect we had an ulterior motive for getting the names from the Smiths.
"Am I right in remembering that Gran walked with a stick?" I said as an opener.
"Yes," Mom replied but didn't elaborate.
"Why? She wasn't that old when the Catcher took her."
"She had pains in her back," Mom said, then added as an afterthought, "and she'd recently found a lump in her armpit. She asked Uncle Michael to take a look, but before he had the opportunity to get another opinion, she'd gone."
"What do you think caused the lump," I asked, knowing full well what lumps anywhere usually mean.
"Cancer possibly, or ... more likely. To be honest, Isabella, the Catcher probably did her a favor. I know of really old folks having cancer, but not anyone as young as your Gran. It's not a pleasant end."
I'd got my answer but decided I might as well keep on.
"Did Dad know Gran was ill?"
Mom shook her head. "No, he didn't know until after she'd gone. Gran didn't want to worry your dad as men generally don't like to talk about sickness. She confided in me though and I went with her to see Uncle Michael. I think she knew what it was."
I didn't press her more after that. Cancer is generally what wipes out the old folks here. Lumps, bumps, wasting away, and turning yellow – all such illnesses are given the blanket diagnosis of 'cancer,' whether it is or not. Come to think of it, I don't even know what cancer is definitively.
Yesterday I dropped in at Blake's Farm which borders on the Uley's. A widowed relative in his early sixties who'd moved in after his wife died, suddenly disappeared a few months before Gran. I spoke to Mrs Blake who said, 'Frank lost weight rapidly after his Gwen died. He was wasting away to nothing when those beasts took him.' I recorded Frank Blake down as a 'possible' as there would be no way of checking whether he'd been suffering from anything other than a broken heart. Tomorrow, if I have time, I'll check out another family living by the coast. They lost a relative about seven years ago.
The top of my head is the only part of me exposed to the cold air in my room. I bet my breath would be visible if I surfaced. Diving further under the quilt is my next option but a noise outside my window stops me from taking that course. I freeze but in a different way.
Silence, for at least ten seconds, apart from my heart pounding in my ears. Had I imagined that scraping sound? Was this only wishful thinking on my part? Every night I've yearned for my supernatural lover to slide through my window like before. Every night since his last visit I've been disappointed. The sounds I imagined could be Edward have alas only been nocturnal predators or loose twigs and such like being carried by the wind. There it is again. No, this is different. It's him, I know it. Would you believe my first thought is to kick my woolly bed socks off? How embarrassing it would be if he saw me wearing those. I can't think of a more effective passion killer.
When Edward's head appears through the drapes I exhale. Through the gloom, I can make out his eyes and teeth. I move to sit up but before he gives me the chance, he flies (yes flies) from the window to the bed where he pulls the quilt off, flings himself down next to me, and then pulls the quilt over our heads. He's freezing, but before he gives me a chance to complain (as if I would), his lips are on mine and I'm melting into his body.
"Oh Bella," he's saying between kisses. I don't respond verbally, I wallow in every moment but wonder (panic) how far this may go while also listening out for Jupiter who could give the game away. After at least a minute of passionate kissing but nothing else, Edward sighs and flops back with his head on my pillow. I shuffle so I'm on my side with my head resting on his shoulder. Strangely I'm warm now.
"Sorry, Bella," Edward whispers.
"What for?" I whisper back.
"Springing myself on you without permission. Not something a gentleman would do. I couldn't keep away though, your scent …"
Edward stops mid-sentence.
"What about my scent? Do I stink?"
Edward chuckles and kisses the top of my head. "Not stink, but you do smell divine … to people like me."
"Divine? Is that good? I don't know that word, Edward."
"Yes, it's good – much better than good - infinitely better than good. Divine means heavenly, magical, fantastic, and blissful. I know some of those words you've never heard before, but I won't explain them now."
"When then?" I ask and playfully punch him on his stomach. Edward doesn't flinch.
"Tomorrow, well actually today. It's gone midnight."
"Why not now?" I hiss.
"Because I want to take you somewhere."
Edward raises himself to look down on me. His eyes are so golden they're like two points of starlight even in the gloom. I'm expecting him to kiss me again but instead, he strokes my face and then pushes his fingers into my hair.
"Tomorrow morning, Bella, I need you to get up very early, dress in your warmest clothes, and meet me behind the stable. But before you do, I want you to leave a message for your mom and dad to tell them not to worry and that you'll be home soon. Make up any story you like."
"Okay," I say without hesitation. Edward kisses my forehead gently and stares into my eyes.
"What shall we do in the meantime, Edward," I ask using what I consider a seductive voice. "Are you going to make love to me?"
Edward's brow creases into a frown. This isn't the reaction I'd hoped for.
"No, Bella, even though that's what I've yearned to do for more time than is considered legal in my world. When we do make love for the first time, it will not be in earshot of your parents or your trusty dog. Silence won't be an option. Now go to sleep. You've got a busy day tomorrow. I'll wake you when it's time to leave."
I must have dropped off immediately because the next thing I remember is Edward waking me. The room is dark. My breath though is visible. He slides off the bed, pulls something from his back pocket, and places it on my nightstand.
"Here's some paper to write your note. I'll be behind the stables."
With that, he opens the window and glides effortlessly through, leaving me to come round from my early-morning stupor alone.
After I've sneaked into the bathroom and got dressed, I light my candle and wait for enough brightness to write. The pencil Edward left me is nothing like the ones made in Forks – slim and light and without question, made by someone more skilled than our local workshops. It's only when I start writing my message under the light I notice what he's given me. I can't stop myself from gasping. The paper is blue.
Blue paper again! Do they not have any white paper in the city? Anyway, where do you think Edward is taking her?
So, I've told you a bit more about the Experiment. The people of Lympi have zero knowledge of religion (no curse words.) The government in the past must have had a good reason to do this. What though?
Joan x