“Mom…” I asked, as she passed my room one day, “…do you and Daddy love Austin more than you love me?”
I was twelve years old and I felt like a little kid for asking such a dumb question, but Austin and I had just gotten back from a training camp at Aunt Cindi’s, and I was feeling glum. Waiting for Mom to pass my room was no accident. Dad was in his office downstairs and I had opened the floor vent. Eavesdropping could work both ways.
“Why on earth would you ever think that?”
She dropped what she was doing and crossed the room to hug me, then backed off.
“Well, everyone treats Austin like he’s special; so I thought maybe you think that too.”
Mom sighed.
“You’re right that our family …”
“It’s not just our family,” I cut her off. “Everyone who was part of Four treats him that way, likes he’s a crown prince or something.”
“I won’t speak to how other people act, Jocie, but your father and I …”
“Are the worst of all!” I cut her off again. “You send me to Nebraska for training, and I have to spend the entire week running and conditioning, while everyone else is learning to fight - including all of my girl cousins, who are all younger than I am.”
Mom closed her eyes.
“That wasn’t my decision,” she said, as she opened her eyes.
We stared at each other in silence.
“Why, Mom? All I want to know is why Dad is doing this.”
“I don’t know, Jocie. I asked him and all he said is something I’ve heard too many times, but I’ve learned to accept. He said ‘knowledge is dangerous.’
******
We walk until we reach the base of the rocks where Dad and I used to climb.
“Dad used to treat rock climbing like just another puzzle,” I say to Zera, as I sit back and stare at the rocks for inspiration.
“He never brought me here,” Austin says. “I was always strong enough, but I could never see the routes up the rock the way you and Dad see them. He knew I wasn’t up to the puzzle.”
Austin leaves to find a better spot to watch for drones, but I assume he really just wants to be alone with his thoughts for a few minutes.
“I like him,” Zera says, when he’s gone. “But he’s not at all what I expected.”
“Really? What did you expect?”
“I always pictured him as the perfect blending of your parents. My Mom says that Martha Paulson is the toughest and bravest person ever to join Four. Of course, she also says anyone would have to be brave and tough to marry your Dad. And your Dad is … well … your Dad. He’s a living legend.”
“It’s like you’re talking about people I’ve never met, rather than my parents. To me, they’re just my mom and dad. I know what you mean about everyone having high expectations of Austin though. It’s been like that his whole life. It’s as if everyone is waiting for something to happen, where Austin will have to ride in and save the day.”
“They are. The rumors say your Dad figured it out and has been preparing him his whole life. But now that I’ve met you both, I’d say you’re the one that’s the perfect blending of your parents. You look more like your mom, but your red hair is like a blending of her blonde and his brown. You solve puzzles like your dad, but - deep down - you’re as tough as your mom. You have less experience, but you’re also a better fighter than your brother.
“I wish. I’ve never beaten Austin in hand-to-hand combat, and before today, I’d never handled a stun gun.”
“Then the problem is in your head,” Zera says. “When we sparred back at the house, you adjusted to every fighting style I threw at you within seconds. You have the same gift as your father. You can see the attack before it comes. As for stun guns, the safety was on when you took mine from the small of my back. If you’ve never touched one, how did you know to use your thumb to disengage it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it. I just did it,” I say.
We hear Austin running back to us.
“There are dozens of high-level drones to our south, and one coming in low and fast straight at us!”
“We can’t outrun it,” I say.
“Can we shoot it down?” Austin asks.
“If we do, the rest will be here in minutes,” I say.
“They’re looking for three kids. Let’s split up. You two try to look like a couple hiking towards town and I’ll hike back the way we came, by myself.”
I put on my hat and sunglasses, and move my fake scar from my forehead to my cheek. I’m only one hundred meters back up the trail, when I hear the buzzing change from full-speed to a hover somewhere above me. If I can distract it for another minute, Austin and Zera should reach a small grove of trees, where they’ll be harder to track. I don’t look up at it. If it sees my face, it will take a scan and most likely move on to scan Austin and Zera when it can’t find me in the Federal database.
It follows my movements as I continue up the trail, then plunges straight down and blocks my path ten meters in front of me. I move to go around it, but it blocks my path again; so we just watch each other for a minute, before it circles me and moves away down the path, back the way I came. I want it to think I’m a hiker; so I continue the way I was going. After three steps, it zips in front of me to block the path again; then repeats the pattern of moving down the path towards Austin.
The next time, I only take one step before it zips in front and blocks the trail again. I watch it closely. There’s a slight side-to-side motion as it hovers, and when it changes direction, its movements are somewhat hesitant. A computer would have smoother motion.
It’s not autonomous. Someone is controlling it.
“Do you want me to follow you?” I ask.
I follow it back down the path towards Austin and Zera. As I do, it gradually gains speed until I have to run to keep up. A half kilometer later, I’m at a full sprint, when I see Austin and Zera lying along the side of the path - and I don’t like where their hands are on each other. I slide to a stop, but the drone accelerates and is quickly out of sight.
“I thought it was chasing us … not the other way around,” Zera says.
“I thought you two were a couple out for a hike - not a honeymoon,” I pant, as they withdraw their hands.
“We heard it coming and thought acting like a marked couple might fool it,” Austin says. “I wouldn’t be the first in this family to fool cameras in that way, you know.”
Actually … I don’t know. What other things did Mom and Dad do when they were young that I’ve never heard about?
“Get up, and run,” I say. “It would seem that someone is watching over us, and whoever is controlling that drone just let us know that it wants us out of here - fast.”
******
We get back to Mount Sinai House without any further trouble, though once or twice I thought I spotted a high level drone that could have been watching us.
We decide it would be best to remove all traces that Austin and I lived in the house above; so I gather our clothes and supplies, and bring them down the ladder. When I’m done, I find that Austin and Zera have been busy testing the old equipment. They have to write some software patches to get our coms to interact with the system, but soon all the screens are coming to life.
“How did our parents beat The Corps using this old junk?” Zera asks.
“It’s a case of divine intervention, if I’ve ever seen one,” Austin replies.
He’s flirting with her!
I choose a screen and ask for the national news. Dad generally skipped the news, because he’d rather dig for the stories that weren’t being reported, but in this case, I made the better choice.
The screen is showing footage of Dad exiting a large government building.
“Dad!” I yell, and Austin and Zera join me.
My enthusiasm ends when the announcer begins to speak and I realize I’m seeing old footage.
“Government officials confirmed today what others have suspected for a week: Cephas Paulson, his wife Martha, and children, Jocie and Austin are all missing, as are virtually all of his family and close associates.”
The screen switches to a shot of our house, which now has even more security around it, including a police line of laser eye beams and identity scanning drones. The announcer continues: “Just prior to his disappearance, Paulson was scheduled to appear before a joint session of Congress to deliver a speech supporting a bill to make it a federal crime to trade in reproductive samples obtained from washed Christians without their consent. In Paulson’s absence, the speech will now be delivered by Mr. Tyrone Bauer, the multi-billionaire businessman and well-known advocate for the reproductive rights of The Washed.”
The screen switches to a shot of the outside of the Cheyenne Mountain facility.
“In related news, Federal officials believe as many as a dozen marked intruders are responsible for breaking into and defacing the historic site where Cephas Paulson was held and tortured live before a worldwide audience.”
The shot switches to a scene of the men I trapped inside the mountain being led away in handcuffs.
“At least we’re not mentioned,” Austin says.
I don’t respond. The shot has shifted to the “defacing” inside the mountain and the words “God’s Judgment” scratched into the dried blood on the floor.
“The ring isn’t the next piece in Dad’s puzzle,” I say. “It’s the scratching. ‘God’s Judgment’ is the rough translation for the name ‘Daniel.’ We need to find Daniel.”
******
When Four was disbanded, there were many secrets that were deliberately left untold, such as how a hacked com works and how Four had long used cargo cars on the tube line to get around unseen. In retrospect, these weren’t oversights on Dad’s part. He somehow knew that those technological advantages would be needed again someday.
We arrive in Ottumwa, Iowa on a Sunday morning, and head straight from the tube station to Daniel’s church on Gateway Drive. It’s been set up in some sort of an old warehouse or manufacturing facility. I see why Daniel chose it for his church. It has easy access to the Des Moines River for summer baptisms, but I wonder why they haven’t done anything about the smell. The place has a slightly sweet odor that I swear is embedded in the walls.
We arrive thirty minutes before the first service is set to begin; so we slip into the last pews and join a dozen or so others who have arrived early to pray. There is a boy of about twelve setting up the altar. He has many more bruises and wounds than you’d expect of a marked child of his age.
The boy looks confused about something and calls out, “Dad? Where’s the bread?”
“Right here, Danny. I left it exactly where I said I would.”
Daniel enters through a side door, carrying three small baskets of bread.
There are now three black lines on his face, and the two lines he had when I was a child look darker than I remember. I make a sound that reflects my disgust.
“Is there a problem?” Zera asks.
“Not with me,” I reply.
Daniel looks up and approaches us. He hasn’t seen me or Austin in a decade, so there’s no way he should recognize us. Austin takes my hand.
Dad sent us. We might as well tell him who we are, he signals with his fingers.
I still don’t trust him, I signal back.
“Hello, I’m Daniel. It’s always nice to see new young faces,” he says, and extends his hand to Austin first, and then to me. I don’t want to touch it any longer than necessary, but Zera takes his hand and gives it a long and vigorous shake.
“We know who you are,” I say. “You beat and whipped Cephas Paulson … nearly to death.”
His eyes narrow as he scrutinizes each of us, but he’s not mad. He spends an uncomfortably long time assessing my eyes, but I don’t break the contact.
“Impressive,” he says, then smiles. “If you’re here to speak to me privately, go with Danny after the service.”