Current day…
I parked and sat for a moment, carefully observing my surroundings. It had been twelve years since my mother sacrificed herself to free me from the survivalist cult into which I’d been born. Twelve years of countless moves all over the country before gradually working my way to the east and north. Two years ago, I’d landed in New Town, Maine.
As one of the infected living among the noninfected, it had been incredibly difficult, but I’d taught myself to deal. Always being on guard was a way of life. So was living a lie. The underground organization that had rescued me had trained me well. In return and as a way to say thanks, I’d used everything they’d taught me to stay free and live. Not just survive.
It was a tribute to my mother. A way to honor both her life, and what I was sure had been her untimely death. A necessity to prove to myself, if to no one else, that her gift of freedom had not been in vain.
This last year had been the most difficult. I’d finally put enough distance between me and the cult leader, Hiram, that still hunted me openly and on the dark web. Despite my many wishes for his death, Hiram was alive, and he wanted me back. I didn’t know if it was because I got away and he wanted to make an example of me. Or, if in his own twisted way, he really loved me. Either way, I’d become the focus of his obsession and could never allow myself to forget it.
Life on the run was difficult and became harder every year. I wanted a home. A place to settle where I could be my authentic self, not the facade I showed the world at large. I wanted a family, and friends, and most of all, a place to belong. To that end, I was taking a risk. One some might call foolish.
This morning, I planned to register with a mate-matching agency that specialized in matching the infected with the noninfected. Mate Match was considered one of the best, their reviews were outstanding, and their results couldn’t be argued. I was nervous as hell, and it had taken six months of arguing with myself to gather the courage to apply.
After taking another deep breath to calm myself, I exited my car and cast a reassuring glance at the trunk where my go bag was located. Owning a vehicle, even if it was old and beat up, was a luxury most city-dwellers didn’t possess. However, for me it was a necessity. It was hard to flee in the middle of the night when you were dependent upon public transportation. I hated that owning it drew unnecessary attention when my goal in life was to live under the radar.
Walking around to the front of the building, after another brief hesitation, I entered the double glass doors with Mate Match etched on the glass. Going from bright sunshine to the dim interior caused me to exchange the mirrored sunglasses for the plain black framed glasses I wore as a disguise.
I walked to the receptionist desk, knowing what the woman saw. The only thing flashy about me was the gold and black box braids I wore in my hair. My clothes were nondescript, most often gray, black, or neutral in color, worn a size too large and in styles that didn’t flatter my figure. Thanks to contacts, my eyes were a plain, ordinary brown. I wore makeup not to enhance, but to downplay my natural beauty. My mother had been gorgeous, and unfortunately for me, I’d inherited her stunning looks.
The receptionist glanced up with a practiced smile on her plump red lips. “Welcome to Mate Match, where your perfect match is just one test away. How may I help you?”
The waiting area held women of various ages. There were office workers seated at desks, most on the phone or with clients. Off to the side in an alcove were more women on computers. Business was booming.
“I have a ten o’clock appointment,” I said.
“Name?” she asked.
“Cherise Golden.” At the age of fifteen, scared and alone for the first time in my life, I’d stumbled over the new name I’d been given. The team of women to which I’d been assigned had been wise enough to keep the new name close enough to my real one that if I made a misstep, it could be easily corrected. Now it flowed easily from my lips.
She glanced down at the minicomputer screen on her desk and her red hair, cut in a sleek bob, swung forward. “Your appointment is with Stephan. He’s with a client right now but will be with you shortly. Have a seat. There’s coffee, tea, and danishes for your enjoyment. Feel free to help yourself.”
“Thank you.” I turned and took a seat with my back to the wall, nearest the exit. My foot wanted to tap with nerves, but I forced myself to stillness.
The other women waiting all stared at their communication devices. Mine was stashed inside of my bag and turned on only when absolutely necessary. For me, a phone had never and could never be a source of entertainment. It was a tracking device. A means of communication, but also a source of personal danger if the wrong person learned my information.
My gaze drifted to the women in the alcove, sitting at computers, completing their mating profile. The questionnaire was long and detailed, asking a myriad of questions that ran the gambit from personal preferences, personality traits, background, family history, and a description of your ideal mate.
I’d lied through my teeth on most of it, sticking to the background that had been created for me and embellishing wherever necessary. The only parts that were true were my address, current occupation, generalized work history, and what I desired in a mate. I’d seen the worst of men. Men who preyed on the weak. Who craved power and didn’t care what they had to do to get it. Men whose savagery made wild animals appear humane.
I wanted someone different. A man with honor and strength of character. A dangerous man who used his power to protect, not harm. I could never forget that I was a hunted woman, and anyone I aligned myself with would also be in danger.
“Ms. Golden?”
I glance up as my name was called. “Yes?”
“I’m ready for you now,” Stephan said. “Please follow me.”
I stood and followed him to a small room in the back set up with a camera, two high stools, and enough lighting to burn my eyes. I blinked a few times as my eyes watered, hoping my discomfort didn’t show.
Stephan glanced at me and gave a sympathetic smile. “I know the lights are uncomfortable, for me as well. Too long under them and the heat becomes unbearable. We’ll make this as quick as possible. Have a seat.”
I sat while he fiddled with the video recorder. When he joined me, he looked into the camera and said, “Interview with Cherise Golden begins now. Ms. Golden, tell me about yourself.”
I repeated the background I’d given them in my profile, keeping it short and to the point.
“Thank you. Can you tell me why, with all of the options available to you, you’ve chosen to seek an infected male as a life partner?” Stephan asked.
“My mother raised me in a rural area.” Truth. “After her death, I moved to the city where there were more opportunities for a young woman to survive on her own. I’ve decided that I don’t enjoy being a city dweller and long to return to my roots. However, the rural areas are controlled by the infected. You have to either be infected or mated to one to live there.”
He tilted his head to the side. “What about family? Did no one take you in after your mother died?”
This part was easier to talk about, because most of it was true. “My maternal grandfather died in the initial outbreak of the virus. My maternal grandmother was killed in the panicked aftermath, trying to get what little remained of their family to safety. A distant cousin who lived in the mountains, which at that time, was relatively free of the virus, had offered her shelter. My mother managed to complete the journey with her two younger siblings. My uncle left as soon as he became an adult, and my mother never heard from him again. Our cousin would have allowed me to continue living with him, but he had enough mouths to feed. I didn’t want to be a burden,” I said.
“I see. You didn’t mention your father.” Stephen made a few notes on the tablet he held and then glanced up. His golden skin looked burnished in the bright lights.
“I never knew my father. He left before I was old enough to know him.” Big. Fat. Lie. “As for the paternal side of my family, there are no relatives that I’m aware of,” I said.
Stephan didn’t waste time on platitudes. So many had lost family during and after the worst of the pandemic, that being without family was the norm. He asked what qualities I wanted in a mate and I answered.
“One last thing before we’re done. I need you to go into the restroom, take off your panties, and place them in one of the plastic baggies inside. Hand them to me on your way out,” Stephen said.
Inwardly, I froze, and a pulse began beating in my throat. I allowed myself a small frown and lied through my teeth. “I’m sorry. I don’t wear underwear. Is it important to the matching process?”
Stephan’s eyes widened before he, too, frowned as his gaze skimmed my body. “Hmm, in all of my years as an intake analyst, I’ve never had this happen. Give me a second.”
I waited to see what he’d do, outwardly patient but inwardly fretting. I could pass for the noninfected with everything but my scent. Lotions and body sprays could cloud the senses, but one sniff of my underwear by an infected and it would be all over.
“What about a bra? Do you wear those?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll take it. The scent marker won’t be as strong, but it’s better than nothing. Maybe being under these bright lights triggered your sweat glands enough to give us what we need,” he muttered.
They had, but mingled in with my sweat was the scented body cream I’d used after my shower this morning.
“May I ask what this is for?” I said as I stood, playing ignorant.
“The infected can tell a lot about a person based on their scent. It’s the first thing they look for to determine compatibility. If the bra doesn’t contain enough of your natural pheromones, we may need you to return with a pair of panties. If that’s an issue, we’ll work out some other option. The bathroom is down the hall to the right.”
I left the room, praying the bra would be enough.