The One Page 7

  “Most of you are aware that our necessary light source comes from the membranes that support our life here. The light contains a high-frequency light spectrum that destroys the enzyme needed to procreate. It’s the same enzyme that is destroyed by the sun in areas close to the equator.

  “As your species evolved, skin darkened to protect that enzyme. Now, the Womb merely introduced a different light spectrum not found in the sun, but lethal to this necessary enzyme. It is temporary. When you resurface, you will no longer come into contact with the spectrum.”

  The crowd buzzed, some relief evident in their grumbling.

  “I’m sorry to say . . . the Womb will then introduce something into your environment to produce the same result.”

  A bitter shout came from an angry face. “All except you. You get to have your child. And probably Princess Abby will be able to have them too, won’t she?”

  Ginger Mae spotted the stung expression on Abby’s face, her hand reaching back to Jose.

  Netty began to stroll as she spoke, her eyes again flicking to the kitchen door. “If Abby wants to have children, she can undergo a process that will allow that to happen. She’s an Elder. She will decide together with the Womb when that should happen.”

  “Don’t I get a say in the matter?” Jose placed his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the table as his emotions expressed themselves in the abrupt twitching of his tail.

  “No, not really. You know you are a consort for Abby, Jose. That’s why male Elders don’t grow horns. Our society is a matriarch one. Before minions lost their immortality, only females had antlers. Now they all do. One small concession for their loss. Baby is the first immortal male to ever have antlers. And the last, I imagine.”

  Moving on, the issue dismissed as far as Netty was concerned, she continued. “Under these circumstances, when it was discovered Abby was recruiting unexpected guests, our plans were altered for your comfort. We knew the time would come where pressures would necessitate explanations. It was believed the women would accept the news better if my own child was not here to stoke resentment. So . . . so I . . .” Netty swallowed. “So I was forced to send her into exile. My own baby . . .”

  The group remained silent as Netty pulled herself together. “She has been here in the Hive. I go to see her every day for a few hours. But it is not nearly the same.”

  A movement caught Ginger Mae’s eye. From her seat next to Peter, Bonnie rose. “I’m very sorry for all you’ve gone through, Netty, and I’m very grateful to be alive. But Peter and I love one another, just as you love Wil. We can’t help that we yearn to share our love the same way you have—with a child.” She ran her hand up the roots of her hair, grasping and pulling down to assuage her pain. “I don’t know what to say . . . I know I can’t go on feeling this way.” She turned as Peter rose, burying herself in his arms to cry.

  Ginger Mae took inventory of the other stricken women, watching as Salina ran over to her remaining daughter. Bonnie threw herself into her mother’s arms, sobbing deeply as Salina’s bitter cold tears made their quiet way down her long-suffering face.

  Suddenly, Wil appeared at the doorway. “Are you ready yet, Netty?”

  All attention swiveled back to Netty, her expression now hesitant. “Yes, Wil. I think now is the time. Can you please bring the father in?”

  To the astonishment of the survivors, Netty’s food wagon emerged from outside, propelled by a large figure draped in a clergyman’s robe. All they could see inside the hood that covered his large head was the rich, dark color of his wide and bushy beard. From around his neck hung a heavy cross of an unidentifiable metal.

  He was assisted by a young woman in her twenties, her round face a complement to her cocoa complexion and her thick, shiny ebony hair pulled back in a ribbon that flowed down her stout back. She wore a light-brown cotton smock with a similar cross, although smaller in size.

  Together, they ushered the wagon into the center of the kitchen to complete silence from the incredulous survivors.

  “I would like to introduce you to Father Garcia and Madeline Perez.”

  As Madeline and Father Garcia stepped over to Netty, a squeak was heard from inside a huge basket that sat on the wagon.

  Father Garcia smiled at the crowd, removing his hood to reveal a man in his late sixties, his watery-blue eyes a clear palette of weariness. Madeline hung shyly behind him.

  “Come along dear . . . they won’t bite, now will they, Netty?”

  Wil hurriedly removed his chair from their table to rush it to Father Garcia. “Please, Father, sit.” As he clapped Wil on the shoulder, Father Garcia eased his large body down onto the chair, Madeline standing by.

  “Thank you, my boy. These old knees of mine still insist on warring with the tendrils. I think my knees are winning.” He looked brightly around the room, his measuring eyes lingering on every face.

  Netty waited respectfully until Father Garcia was satisfied. He gave her a slight nod, and she began again.

  “I understand you’re all curious. I can see the heartache my information has stirred. So.” She nodded to Father Garcia. “With Father Garcia’s permission, I’m going to do something I have long awaited. Then we will continue this story.”

  Walking over to the large basket on the food wagon, she placed her hand on the edge facing the dining tables. “May I please ask that Ginger Mae, Karen, Bonnie and Gloria join me?”

  The four women glanced at their husbands, their confusion clear as they searched for support in the faces of their sister survivors. Slowly, each woman stood to join Netty near the wagon.

  She reached out to guide them to the wagon where they looked down into the basket. Sudden gasps brought hands to mouths as tender expressions, fragile and hopeful, searched the basket, then back up to Netty’s face.

  Ginger Mae bit her knuckle painfully as hopeful tears dropped hot and painful. For there in the basket, nestled in their blankets, lay three infants who stared straight up at her, unblinking. Tiny feet kicked and buckled under their covers, the only sign they knew they were the center of attention. One white- and two dark-skinned infants looking like satisfied kittens.

  Bonnie turned to the tables, her smile fighting through fresh tears. “Peter. Come look.”

  Peter hurried to her side where she threw her arms around his neck, slowing down his anxious attempt to peer into the basket. Soon, everyone milled around the infants.

  Ginger Mae’s heart froze as she realized three infants didn’t go far with four desperate women who would never conceive. With a heavy heart, she led Hud back to the table and quietly sat down, ignoring the questions in his eyes.

  It didn’t take long before the sweet surprise wore off, fostering the return of suspicion and betrayal. Ginger Mae watched as Father Garcia sent a subtle nod to Netty.

  Making her way through the crowd at the wagon, she directed the survivors back to their seats. Karen spoke up first as the spell of the infants wore off.

  “Are the babies for us, Netty? Where did they come from? Where did Father Garcia come from? Were you up top, sir? Are there other survivors?” At the mention of the possibility, a roar sounded; hope springing desperately, just like a baby bird’s mother as she pushed her fledgling from the nest to take his first flight.

  But just as the mother bird’s hopes are dashed when the fledgling crashes to the ground, so Netty crushed theirs.

  “No . . . I’m sorry. Father Garcia has been here in the Hive as long as you have. There is no one . . . nothing . . . left above.”

  Bonnie’s small voice cut through the din, the whisper pointed and forlorn. “The babies.”

  “Let me explain, if you haven’t already figured it out.” She helped Father Garcia from his seat as she spoke. “As I mentioned, Maya has been with Father Garcia since your arrival. But I knew the time would come when I could no longer bear to hide her. I needed a way to make it safe to welcome her into our family, which includes women who would be resentful and bitter about their
inability to conceive.” She turned toward Abby.

  “My wonderful, Abby. You gave me the solution.” The two Elders’ faces gleamed with the pride that comes from two women who hold each other in the highest regard. Netty inclined her head, encouragement for Abby to speak. Slowly, falteringly . . . Abby voice gained strength as she found the answer.

  “The innocent babies. All of them. It killed me to leave them behind along with the rest of the creatures I failed to rescue. You knew?”

  Netty nodded. “Of course, my dear. The implants. We knew your every thought.” Abby blushed deeply as Ginger Mae swore she saw her glance guiltily toward Cobby from under her veiled golden eyes. That’s interesting.

  Netty resumed. “We had hoped to rescue more, but the time—it just plain ran out. It was only a few hours before you got here that the Kreyven returned from a tinderbox called Newark. Its proximity to New York City and abundance of ramshackle buildings, which had been shortchanged during construction by corrupt town officials and greedy building inspectors, all but guaranteed its collapse.”

  Father Garcia spoke up. “It just happened to be in one of those exact buildings that the church housed the homeless and surrendered children. We had been there for forty five years. Many a child called it their first and last home.”

  He took out a yellow handkerchief and swabbed his dry brow, attempting to wipe away the memories.

  “When the Kreyven came, we were moving the older children to the basement. We had lost all electricity and had no way of knowing about the bombs, other than the first one in Vegas.” Father Garcia shook his head mournfully.

  “I knew there’d be more. As sure as water is wet, I knew the politicians would muck everything up. And we have no one to blame but ourselves. We gave them the power and turned our lives over to them for a few pieces of silver.” Father Garcia scrutinized everyone in the room, one by one. The silence weighed heavy as they waited for him to continue.

  “Was that pittance the value of our children?” He closed his eyes, appearing to be in pain. His words came out slow and soft. “We made a deal with the Devil and sold out our children’s future. Then the Devil came calling again.

  “Netty Capaccino is as fine a woman as I’ve ever met. She did this for you. I just wish we could have saved more than three. We felt the bomb hit. I was running back upstairs from the basement to help Maddy bring down the babies. We no sooner had them in our arms, then the Kreyven busted in and wrapped us in its body and took us underground. We felt . . . the ground shudder.”

  Father Garcia’s voice faltered, his eyelids closed tight as of to fight off the chaos of the memory. Madeline knelt at his feet and squeezed his hands tightly. Tiredly, he continued. “That’s all we had. Three. The rest were all left behind.” He sighed fast and deep, pushing away the painful memory. “Well . . . that was a long time ago. Let’s hope you place a greater value on these children. It appears they are the last of their kind.”

  With those words, he rose to his feet, lifting Madeline from her knees.

  “Come, my dear, we have a long walk home.” Turning to Netty and Wil, he bid them good day. “I trust we will see you in the morning again? We’ll bring the babes.” With nods from the Elders, and a perfunctory goodnight to the survivors, Father Garcia and Madeline wheeled the wagon back out to the hallway and disappeared with the infants.

  Ginger Mae’s head swam. The unexpected promise of the infants was overshadowed by the knowledge that they’d been hidden here all this time. With two grown adults. Why hadn’t they challenged Netty or Wil about the food wagon? She massaged her temples, the answer obvious.

  In the beginning, they had feared Netty and Wil. The mental trauma caused from fleeing the bombs, the deaths from the Time of Seth, the discovery of the Kreyven, Baby’s hidden revenge on the men from Netty’s past, and the revelation of the tendrils and length of time they would live in the Hive had given them all enough to deal with. And she herself had had to cope with her disfigured face, the animosity from Peter, her pressures from the daily count, her jealousy over the amount of time Daisy spent with the Elders and her head-over-heels romance with Hud.

  “Are you okay, babe?” Hud leaned over to massage her shoulders. She smiled gratefully as her head swirled with the emotions generated from so much chaos. She leaned back until her head rested on Hud’s chest.

  “Three . . . only three babies.” All around her, the other couples conferred, somber yet hopeful.

  “Okay, everyone. I’d like everyone with an interest in the infants to arrive for breakfast an hour early tomorrow. Now . . . let’s get on with our duties.”

  The crowd buzzed as everyone filtered out to begin their day, several stopping to congratulate Netty and Wil on the birth of their lovely little girl. Bonnie and Ginger Mae linked arms and funneled out with their apprehensive husbands bringing up the rear.

  Chapter 6

  Ginger Mae rushed Hud as he dressed the next morning.

  “I’m going as fast as I can, babe. Take a deep breath. I know you’re anxious. But they won’t open the envelopes until we’re all there.”

  Ginger Mae looked at the envelope clenched tightly in her hand, wrinkled and creased from the attention they had given it since Netty had stood before her after dinner last night.

  Each woman had drawn their envelope from the small box in Netty’s hand. Four white envelopes with yellow squares inside. Three with the letter B, one blank.

  Her stomach contracted painfully, her nerves fragile and frayed.

  Hud tipped her face up to his, slowly planting soft lip caresses like whispers of promises on her face.

  “I love you, Ginger Mae Hudson. No matter what happens, we have each other. If we’re lucky enough to get a baby, great. I can’t think of anything more perfect than that. But we need to be prepared for the worst.”

  “Nooo. I can’t. This is our only chance, Hud. I feel good about it. I’m scared, but I know there’s a B inside this envelope.”

  Hud wrapped her up in his strong arms, expelling his breath loudly.

  “Okay, babe. Let’s go get our baby.”

  *

  Karen, Gloria, Bonnie and Ginger Mae sat at the table in front of the room. Cobby, Billy, Peter and Hud stood behind their wives. Salina and Clyde hovered nervously by the fireplace where Baby lurked, refusing to accept that the grandparents should not be there.

  Ginger Mae could see their presence only served to make Bonnie more nervous. The best friends held hands tightly . . . painfully, the now sweat-stained envelopes plastered flat on the table.

  Everyone glanced up as Father Garcia and Madeline wheeled the food cart in with its precious cargo.

  “Good morning ladies . . . gentlemen. Wil, Netty, nice to see you so early in the morning for a change. I must say that Maddy and I are so pleased we can now integrate with the rest of the Hive family.” Maddy gave them all a shy smile as Father Garcia placed the wagon in front of the table. He turned to take his sizable bulk to a chair to watch where he was joined by Maddy.

  Netty approached the table. “One unfortunately, will not get a baby. I know of no other way to handle this. Do any of you want to step aside?” Her question met terse silence. “Okay. I’m going to pick up a baby. It will go to the first couple who opens their envelope and gets in line with it. Go.”

  Thus the scramble started with little warning. The women tore at the envelopes. All eyes focused on the beautiful letter Bs found inside. Ginger Mae and Hud broke out in glorious glee, hugging and jumping up to join the line at the wagon. Chairs fell on the floor as the women tripped over themselves to see the babies. Ginger Mae was third in line to receive her tiny bundle.

  “It’s a boy.” Netty placed the infant in her arms as she smiled into Hud’s surprised eyes. The baby looked back at them with clear colorless eyes in his dusky skin.

  “He’s so wonderful,” breathed Ginger Mae.

  Squeals and laughter filled the room. The men clapped each other on the back and shook hands. Father
Garcia and Maddy beamed with joy.

  Wil entered the kitchen with Netty’s Maya in his arms. She squirmed to get down and ran laughing to her mother’s arms.

  The sudden slam of a chair made them all look up. Ginger Mae gasped in horror. Bonnie stood at the table, her envelope crumpled on the floor, tears coursing down her face as Peter held her back. “I never ask for anything.” That was all she said as she ran from the room, a distraught Peter letting his eyes linger on the infants as he left behind her. Salina and Clyde pushed through the bunch around the wagon, the pain on their faces contrasting with the blissful relief of the new moms. Relieved it was Bonnie and not them.

  Except for Ginger Mae and Hud, that is. She looked to her husband then the baby. “Oh, no. It can’t be Bonnie. Oh, Hud . . .” Hud’s stricken expression matched hers. They pulled away from the celebrating crowd and stared at one another. The baby kicked gently against Ginger Mae’s arms as he smiled for the first time. Ginger Mae examined the baby’s face. “He’s perfect, Hud.”

  “I know, babe.”

  “We could really love him.”

  Hud’s sadness intensified. He spoke softly. “We sure could.” They stared at each other again, moisture in Ginger Mae’s eyes. Together they said goodbye to the other celebrants and left the kitchen with their baby.

  *

  Peter comforted Bonnie as she cried face down on the dais they shared together in the private quarters they had moved to once they were married. Salina knelt at her daughter’s side as Clyde paced frantically, wringing his hands near the back of the tiny cavern, careful to avoid the drape of the membrane on the walls.

  Peter’s anguish knew no bounds as his attempts to comfort the best and sweetest person he had ever had the pleasure of calling his friend, let alone his wife, met with no success.

  It left him ill prepared to handle his own deep disappointment over being the losing couple. Jealousy gripped his senses as his dream of being a father lay as broken as his old eyeglasses from twenty nine years ago. He exhaled with futility.