The Sowing

If by some miracle the Establishment can be persuaded to rejoin the fold and the people of Sanctum are willing to share their knowledge and resources with the Parish, it will mean a whole different life for all of us—one free of fear and suffering. No more rebellions. No more war. We can finally have a life where we can dare to hope, knowing that our dreams are within our grasp.

We’ll be able to live together as families and grow old together—Digory and I can raise Cole. I feel excited, almost giddy, as I imagine this future. It’s an emotion I’ve never really felt before, and one I never imagined I ever would.

I look up at Digory. Even in the dim light, I take in that perfectly handsome face, my finger lightly tracing the angle of his jaw. He looks so peaceful in sleep. It’s as if the underlying pain that now simmers just beneath his eyes has been wiped clean, leaving a fresh canvas full of possibilities.

My lips brush against his and I feel myself getting even more excited. But as much as I want him, I fight the urge to wake him. He’s been through so much. Let him enjoy a restful sleep.

Sliding my body from his arms takes every ounce of willpower I can muster, and once I’m free I slip on some clothes and pad out of the room as quickly as I can before I change my mind.

I spend a few hours using a tool kit I found in one of the closets to repair the tiny transceiver I’ve kept hidden in the lining of my pants. Not sure it’ll work, but at least there’s a chance I might be able to contact Cage and Arrah now.

Then I trot up the carpeted steps of the penthouse suite we’ve been assigned and open the door leading out onto the roof.

I still haven’t gotten used to seeing the four different horizons, but the cool, artificially created winds tingling my skin invigorate me. Though we’re not housed in the tallest building in Sanctum, we’re high enough that I have a bird’s-eye view of most of the city.

The streets seem utterly deserted, a stark contrast from the hustle and bustle when we first arrived. Maybe they’re all sleeping, but I’d have guessed with the upcoming peace talks, followed by a diplomatic mission to the Parish, there’d be a lot more activity going on.

I shrug and am just about to turn around and go back inside when I spot movement in the night quadrant—what appears to be a procession of white-clad personnel leading a line of gleaming steel cargo containers toward a processing plant. They disappear inside.

The elation I’ve been feeling shifts into alarm, then suspicion. What was it Straton said when he was giving us a tour of Sanctum? That the plant has been closed for some time, sealed off due to hazardous conditions. Whatever’s inside couldn’t be too lethal, though, given that no one in the procession seemed to be wearing any kind of protective bio-suit.

My Imposer training kicks into high gear. That gut feeling I had earlier shoves my optimism out of the way. I need to investigate this. If I’m wrong, then there’s no harm done.

But if I’m right—

I turn around and my heart almost stops as I plow into Digory. I didn’t even hear him come up behind me. I let out a nervous chuckle as he grabs my arms and steadies me, curiosity and concern battling it out on his face.

Throwing my arms around him, I hug him tight. “Sorry if I woke you.”

He kisses my forehead, hugging me back. When we finally pull apart, he’s looking at me with imploring eyes.

“I think something’s going on,” I say.

Then I tell him what I saw at the processing plant and how I want to take a look and see what’s going on there. He nods and motions to me, then himself, then points at the plant, now silent and cloaked in shadow.

I smile at him. “Sure. You can come. Just try to keep up.”

He smiles back.

We slip into a pair of fresh white jumpsuits that have been left for us in the closet. Hand in hand, we scurry down the stairs and make our way to the door of the suite. We glance at each other as I slowly turn the knob and crack it open, peering into the hallway.

Standing sentinel by the elevator doors are two Fleshers, their bulky forms barely able to fit in the cramped space. Their haunting faces stare straight ahead, blank and expressionless as if they were dead.

Why do I get the feeling they aren’t going to let us pass if we try to board?

Easing the door closed again, I turn back to Digory. “We’re going to have to figure out a way to get past those two.”

We look around the room on the off chance that there’s another way out, but of course there isn’t. At one point, Digory hoists me onto his broad shoulders as I check the ceiling for ducts we might be able to use to bypass the hallway, but the crawlspace isn’t large enough and it doesn’t appear that there’s access to the elevator shafts.

That leaves only one more option.

Opening the balcony doors, I lean against the railing and stare down. Fifteen stories to ground level.