Pandora's Genes (38 page)

“Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? Will, I want to be with you.”

He was bewildered. “Are you saying that you want to marry me?”

She nodded. “When I proposed a triad marriage, it was because I was frightened of losing either of you. I thought it was the only way we could stay together. I realize now that it wouldn’t work. And I realize now, as I realized for the first time yesterday, that I want to be your wife.”

“Alone.”

“Yes. We belong together.”

“And what about Zach? Where does he belong?”

“At your side, where he has always been, where you want him to be.”

He stood and began to pace. The anger had settled in and he felt it, like a pressure, building in his chest and behind his eyes. He stopped and stood a moment at the far corner of the room, wanting to get away from her, knowing that when he turned she would be sitting there still. “What you are saying,” he said, his voice steady, “is that you would marry me to preserve the work in the Garden. To save Zach.”

“In part yes,” she said. “But most of all because I love you. As a woman loves a man.”

He wanted to believe her, but the anger would not let him. The slow, deep breaths he was taking seemed only to intensify his rage.

When he didn’t answer, she lowered her eyes and stroked the baby fox-cat. Then she picked it up and gently set it on the desk. She rose from the chair and came toward him, her hands open in appeal. “Will, I love you. Don’t you want me now?”

He took another deep breath and held it, but it did no good. He was so angry he was almost dizzy. And he was frightened too, as the ghost of something he had thought was long buried began to stir in him. “Don’t do this,” he said. “Leave me, Evvy. Go away now.”

She didn’t answer. Her hands were still stretched out before her. His jealousy and anger filled his heart, his mind, until there was no room for any other thought or consideration. He took her wrists and gripped them tightly, till she cried out. Then he took her by the shoulders and began to shake her, hating her, hating himself, unable to stop. She twisted and tried to pull away, but he held her tighter. “I know how you feel about him!” he said. “How can I believe you? What are you trying to do to me?”

“I’m trying to show you the truth!” she shouted. “Stop it, Will! Stop what you’re doing and look at me! Look into your own feelings!”

He continued to shake her. He wanted to throw her across the room. Through the sound of blood pounding in his ears, he heard the high-pitched howl of a distressed fox-cat, and nearly stumbled as Napoleon bit into his trouser leg and began to pull. Evvy suddenly pulled one hand free and struck him across the face. “Stop it!” she cried.

Without thought he slapped her once, hard, then suddenly came to himself and let her go, feeling weak and ashamed. She stumbled, her face paler than before, but she didn’t move away from him. He didn’t know what to think, what to do. “Leave me, Evvy,” he said. “Too much has happened. Too much harm has been done already.”

“Then it’s time to stop it. Now. Tonight.”

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. “What about Zach?”

“He feels he has to go, to atone for his betrayal. No matter how you feel, for the sake of the future, you mustn’t let him do it. He is the only man who truly understands the Traders. Suppose their leaders come into the Capital? Who would know them but Zach? Please . . . even if you send me away, you must keep him here.”

“If I don’t? Do you still want me?”

She looked at the floor and hugged her arms around her. He held his breath, waiting for her answer. At last she looked up, her eyes rimmed with tears. “I love you,” she said. “I think I have for a very long time. You have always stirred something in me that I’ve never felt with anyone else, not even Zach, not even today. I want you to touch me, but in love, not anger.”

A part of him wanted to turn away, but another part wanted her more than anything he had wanted in his life. All the feelings of the past years welled up in him, the anguish at losing Zach, the hurt, the anger at the betrayal, and most of all his desire for Evvy.

She reached out her hand and touched his.

A
PALE HINT OF DAWN
showed outside the window, though smoking fish-oil lamps still cast shadows throughout the room. He opened his eyes and turned to see her lying beside him on the couch. Her eyes were open, and she looked sleepy and peaceful. Her pupils were so wide they almost obscured the startling color of her eyes. He stroked her back, her warm skin smooth under his fingers. Never in his life had he felt so close to another person.

He wanted to speak, but didn’t know where to begin. She put a finger to his lips and said, “Shh. This is the truth, Will. The only truth.”

He looked at her in wonder. “Why weren’t you afraid of me?”

“Because I know you love me. Because we are meant to be together.”

“What about the Garden?”

“Daughters of the Garden can marry, as you know. I think that Katha will not approve, but I can persuade the other elder women to agree. It will, in a way, be seen as a triumph for the Garden, for us to be united. It will be a formal declaration that our interests are the same.”

“Ah, Evvy,” he said. “It has always been so hard for me to know the right thing to do. How could I ever have ruled without Zach? How could I continue without both of you?” He stretched and yawned, then looked at the light beginning to stream in through the window. He stroked her shoulder, then sat up and pulled his clothes from the tangled pile at the foot of the couch where Napoleon was sleeping. When he had dressed, he leaned down and kissed her, on the forehead, the eyes, the lips. She grasped his hand and smiled.

He stood looking at her, scarcely believing that she was here. “I think,” he said, “that if Zach had brought you to me five years ago, I would not have seen you as who you are. You would have been just another of the young girls I thought I needed.” He squeezed her hand and smiled sheepishly. “It appears now that my brother did the right thing after all.”

Then he turned and without another word walked to the corner of his office and through the narrow door that led to Zach’s room.

T
HE
E
ND

About The Author

Kathryn Lance is the author of more than fifty books of fiction and nonfiction. Pandora’s Genes was her first published adult SF novel, and it remains her favorite (along with its sequel, Pandora’s Children). She is best known for a number of top-selling fitness books, including Running for Health and Beauty and Getting Strong. Get in touch with her through her website,
http://www.klance.com/

A note to my readers about how Pandora’s Genes came to be.

One morning in the late seventies I saw a short squib in the New York Times business section about a company that was working to genetically alter bacteria that naturally consume oil so that they might be used to clean up oil spills. I thought, “Great! But what if your car catches it?”

This idea germinated for a while and became the nucleus of the setting for Pandora’s Genes and Pandora’s Children, post-holocaust romantic adventure novels set in the late 21st century. In the world I came to imagine, genetically engineered bacteria were used on a particularly severe oil spill, and mutated to develop a taste for all petroleum products.

The new bacteria spread rapidly, destroying the functionality of all machinery that runs on oil products, as well as all things containing plastic and other petro-based items. Among the things destroyed were the fail-safe seals that confined other recombinant-DNA experiments, as well as deadly viruses being engineered in secret germ-warfare research. The result was a greatly de-populated world, with many animal and insect species extinct or deleteriously altered, and with no remnants of what we consider modern technology.

One of the engineered diseases let loose was an inheritable illness in which affected women die in childbirth, usually upon having a second female child. The resulting rarity of women is the plot point that sets my story in motion. Both novels focus on two opposed groups, one, led by The Principal, which wishes to restore some semblance of civilization, and their antagonists, The Traders, a fanatical religious group dedicated to the final, total eradication of all remnants of “science” and the “wild deenas” (DNA) that science loosed on the world. (They make the sacred sign of the double spiral in their rites.)

Against this science fictional background is set an unusual love triangle involving two men and the young girl that they both love. These three protagonists, Evvy, The Principal, and Zach, his right-hand man, alternate as the main POV character in both books.

Excerpt from Pandora’s Children, the sequel to Pandora’s Genes

F
OR A LONG TIME AFTER
Evvy left, Zach remained standing by the window, looking out at the lightening sky. His mouth was dry, and he felt light-headed. He was almost dizzy with fatigue, but he knew better than to lie down now; if he slept, he would feel worse, more exhausted, when it came time to go.

At last he turned from the window and picked up his feathered lyre. Wrapping it in a soft cloth, he placed the instrument inside his large pouch, then sat in the chair by the bed and waited.

The next thing he knew, there was a discreet rapping and he opened his eyes to full light. The rain of the night had gone and with it the clouds. Bright early sun streamed in the window, and he saw, as if through a gauzy curtain, Robin standing just inside the door, his strong, scrawny old arms holding a tray heavy with food.

The old man seemed embarrassed. “Good morning, Zach,” he said, his voice uncertain. He placed the tray on the desk, then spoke quickly. “The Principal ordered me to bring you a good breakfast and food for your journey . . .” He shrugged off a cloth bag bulging with parcels. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to take you to your mount.”

Zach yawned. “Thank you, Robin,” he said. He stood on shaky legs and, though he had no taste for food, approached the desk. On a large platter were half a roasted fowl, four eggs cooked in their shells, a pot of steaming, fragrant herb tea, and a bowl of fruit.

Robin stood there a moment not moving, then he spoke again. “I don’t know what’s happened,” he said. “The Principal won’t say anything except to shout or grumble. But since you returned, Zach, until yesterday he has never seemed so happy. He was his old self – like when he was a boy. I don’t know what this trouble is between you, but I hope it will be ended soon. And that soon you will be back with us again.” Awkwardly he reached out to clasp Zach’s hand, then backed away, as he had when he had first greeted the newly returned Zach only four days – or a lifetime – ago.

“Thank you, Robin,” said Zach again. He did not trust himself to say more. Robin turned abruptly and left, closing the door behind him.

He sat and forced himself to eat, knowing he would need the strength the food would give him. He squinted at the clear sky outside the window, trying to estimate how long it would take him to get across the border, back to the Trader empire. He would take the same route he had traveled when the Principal had sent him to fetch Evvy over five years ago, north through the Capital, then following the Principal’s own roads along the river, crossing at the Northern Ford, and then proceeding west past the old Garden, now one of the Principal’s garrisons, and into the wild lands beyond. He had no more wanted to take that road then than he did now, but at least then, five years ago, he had had a choice, or the illusion of choice; today there was none. If he had refused to go on the journey then, perhaps everything would have been different; certainly the details would have, but he knew on a deeper level that the ultimate result would have been the same: betrayal and dishonor.

He had always been a solitary man, had nurtured his solitude, knowing that the less he asked of others, the less he would want, but now he felt that solitude completely. He was alone. Alone to live, or more likely to die, but either way with no one to know or care. He himself cared perhaps the least.

It did not occur to him to refuse the sentence of exile: his fate in the Capital if he were seen after today might not be death, but in any case he was easily recognizable, and there was nothing he could do here now to help Will or to thwart him. He was known to the people of the District as well as he was known to the Traders, and neither side would trust him or see him as anything other than an enemy.

He was startled by a sound from the corner of his room. He turned and was shocked to see Will standing at the entrance to the hidden door that connected Zach’s quarters with his office. Will’s curly hair was rumpled, and he wore an expression Zach had never seen before.

“May I come in, brother?”

“Please,” said Zach. He indicated the tray. “Share my breakfast. It’s too much.”

“You need it all,” said Will, his voice oddly unsteady, “if you’re ever to regain any weight.”

“I’ve thought of one thing more that might help you,” said Zach after a moment. “I can give you physical descriptions of the leaders of the Traders. Those I know personally, those I have seen.”

“It might be better for you to identify them in person,” Will said.

Zach didn’t answer. He did not understand what Will wanted. Will’s face suddenly twisted, and he turned away. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. He paused for a beat, then faced Zach again. “No, more than that. I’ve realized the truth. I don’t want to send you away. I never did. I’m . . . asking you to stay and help me. I need you, Zach. I can’t do it myself.”

“But what about . . .” Zach left the sentence unfinished.

“It’s all in the past. I can’t pretend I’m not still angry and hurt. But other things are more important. What matters is for us to work together, to build our civilization, to fight the Traders. I could not have come this far without you, and I need you to continue the work.”