I sit up straighter.
Gabrielle picks up a slim, ornately bound book from the mantel and opens to a page bookmarked with a red ribbon.
“The angel of God did appear to me and said,” Gabrielle recites as she peers over the book at us, “I have chosen you to spread the word. Tell them that the Fury of God is coming in one hundred and fourteen days. Those that understand will know how to preserve the message. Tell them the gates of Eden are closed. Only the Navigator can open them again and offer salvation. Do not lose the way. Doomsday has one hundred harvests. The seeds must be planted and harvested or you will perish. Weed out the bad ones. Look for the mark; the date will be stamped with the fifth generation.
“The Navigator will arrive with the eclipse of the sun; watch for the signs. The rising sun will be darkened and the moon turned to blood. The Navigator will pass through the fire. The six are not dead, they live and will read the stars. The Navigator will take them back to Eden and awaken Eve from her slumber.
“This is the message that must be transmitted for the Navigator. Set the world right. The eclipse is the path of the sun. The beginning is the end. Night and day are equal and chaos is the solution.
“So said the angel of God.”
“What does that mean?” asks Sheree, bewildered.
Gabrielle gives an exasperated sigh. “It means that the world out here has been enslaved, planting and harvesting the seeds of Eden, and waiting a century for the Navigator to come and lead the way back into Eden.”
She rubs at her temples and looks us over.
“And so, here we are at the one hundredth harvest and you, the six living dead who can read the stars, have arrived with one that is of the fifth generation, born during the total eclipse of the sun and stamped with the mark,” Gabrielle says.
Uh oh.
As my bad luck would have it, I was born during an eclipse of the sun. My hand quivers as it covers the stamp on my bare foot. I flash a look at Jay, and he’s looking back. I think Gabriele sees.
Dead silence except for the thundering of my heart.
“Me?” I hear.
My head whips up in shock. It was Matt who spoke. I can't prevent my eyes from flicking back over to Jay; we confirm our mutual surprise.
Matt is the Navigator?
“If the stamp on your right foot confirms your birth,” she replies to Matt, “then yes, it would appear that you are the Navigator.”
Her eyes sweep over me as she speaks and my stomach clenches.
“And as I said,” she says to Matt, “you have arrived just in time.”
Matt leans forward, elbows on knees, and listens intently to Gabrielle. I cannot fathom looking as calm as he does in the face of what Gabrielle just announced.
Gabrielle tells us that the angel appeared to a Pentecostal preacher named Jefferson Strong and several of his followers, while they were in his church preparing for his radio show. Strong's congregation became the Preservationists, a name adopted after the angel's appearance. They believe the Holy Spirit fills them and gives them the gift of tongues and the gift of interpretation.
“More precisely,” she says, “speaking in tongues is to speak in the language of the angels.”
“How long ago did this angel appear?” Jay asks with skepticism.
“One hundred years ago America closed her borders. It is now known as the day the Gates of Eden closed. The day after they closed, an angel did appear. This was exactly one hundred and fourteen days before the arrival of God's Fury,” Gabrielle answers. “Jefferson Strong gave the meteor, whose arrival the angel prophesied, its name.”
This all sounds so unbelievable to me. I do not imagine that any kind of God sent that meteor, so why would he send an Angel?
“Jefferson Strong had a large audience for his radio broadcast, and he tried to warn people,” Gabrielle continues. “He was dismissed as another doomsday crackpot by most. The closing of the border by the Genetic Integrity Act was a bigger priority.”
Gabrielle rubs her temples again as she prepares to continue her tale.
“Unfortunately, Jefferson Strong turned out to be right,” she sighs. “The meteor landed in the Arabian Sea and the tsunamis were unleashed. And then the economic apocalypse began. The only place supposedly unaffected was the newly closed America, which came to be known as Eden. They, of course, took the meteor as a sign from God.
“After Jefferson Strong was hailed as a prophet, there were other Preservationists who were filled with the Spirit. From these New Prophets came their current leader, John Keeper. This is called The Book of Eden.” Gabrielle holds up the book she just read from. “Each portion of the angel's message was elaborated on, and explained. There were many prophets, particularly John Keeper, who added their own interpretations and new chapters to the Book, especially in the early days.”
“And what exactly does the Book say I’m supposed to do?” Matt asks as he leans back in his chair—actually looking as if he's relaxed.
“The angel left an artifact with the Preservationists, the key to Eden,” she answers. “If, after a century of penitence spent planting and harvesting the seeds of Eden, God decides the people are worthy, there will be certain signs and the one with the mark, the Navigator, will arrive. This one will use the artifact to lead the people back into Eden.”
They’ve made it so convoluted that it’s as if they didn’t want an actual Navigator to show up. “That's crazy,” I mutter, but I keep my hand over the stamp on my foot. Just in case.
“Yes, it is crazy,” Gabrielle says with a nod in my direction.
“Don't they realize what will happen to them if they march up to the border and say they're ready to be let in?” Matt asks with concern.
“No, they don't,” Gabrielle sighs. “There's been a century of utter chaos out here. Many things have been lost or forgotten, or twisted into something new, in the quest to stay alive for one more day.”
“And that message could mean a lot of different things,” Jay points out, helpfully.
“The original message of the angel has undeniably been altered and warped,” Gabrielle says with frustration. “But we have pieced a few things together, and this is what we believe. A hidden facility exists, a seed ark, which holds seeds from around the world. Seeds that have not been modified to be infertile. This seed ark was built to last for hundreds of years, but its location has been lost.”
“The coordinates I decrypted are for the seed ark?” I ask.
“Yes,” Gabrielle confirms. “Those coordinates indicate a location in the far north, a place called Longyearbyen in Norway, and we know that the seed ark was built in such a place.”
“And the Eve file?” I ask.
Gabrielle settles into an armchair and crosses her legs. Her hands are clasped together as in prayer, and her chin rests on her fingertips.
“I believe that the artifact the Angel left is a key, but not for Eden. It’s the key to opening the seed ark, also known as the Doomsday vault.” she says. “There are six security codes we need to enter the facility, and that is what is contained in the artifact. The angel's message refers to waking Eve. I expect it will become clear what that is once we’re inside. The seeds in the ark will free us from dependency on Eden's farms. We could grow our own food with more diversity, and on a much larger scale than what we're doing here.” Gabrielle gestures behind her to indicate the ranch.
“And those seeds should be spread across the globe, so they reach their native climates,” she explains. “They can replenish the Earth, but they have a limited lifespan; they need to be planted and harvested to stay viable. They would have been stamped with expiration dates, that's why the message talked about harvesting seeds to preserve the species, and we're running out of time.”
“What does the rest of the message mean?” Matt asks as he leans forward again.
“If the dates we have are valid, then the angel, whoever that actually was, accurately predicted the meteor was coming in one hundred and fourteen days,” Gabrielle tells us. “The rest is educated speculation, but I believe the Navigator was someone who was supposed to know the location of the seed ark, and how to use the artifact to gain access.”
I make some correlations with the obviously mangled message, and it makes some sense.
“The rest of it, I don't know if it's real or added later for dramatic effect.” Gabrielle looks at me. “You can read the stars—does it mean anything to you?”
“Not really,” I say. “Maybe it will make sense once we're looking at this artifact. Do you know what it is?”
Gabrielle sighs heavily. “That's another hurdle. Whatever this item may be, it's in a locked box that as far as we know has never been opened. There are markings on the box that we believe represent a flower—a symbol for the Ark. The Preservationists consider it a holy relic. It hasn't been seen by outsiders for over half a century.”
“So how does this work, then? How do I acquire the box and how do I open it?” Matt asks. “Do we need to wait for a ceremony, or whatever it is they do?
“I don't actually know what will happen. You'll be the first to try,” Gabrielle tells Matt.
“Do you mean no one born during an eclipse has been willing to try? There must have been others,” he asks.
Gabrielle smiles. “As I said, there were additions to the message. It almost doesn’t matter what the original message meant, it’s what they believe it means now that counts. The Navigator must be someone from the fifth generation since the Gates of Eden closed, meaning 2105 or later. There were only three total solar eclipses that were visible here. 2106, when you were born, and again in 2107 and 2108. The Navigator had to be born on one of those dates, during totality of the eclipse.”
My stomach tightens with anxiety. I'm now sitting with my feet completely under me to hide the date that shows I was born during the eclipse of 2108.
“So what now?” Matt asks her.
“Two things,” she says. “The first is that the existence of the seed ark is known to very few, and we need to keep it that way. We don't want the Devotees alerted to its existence, and we particularly don't want them to know we may have found it.”
She settles her gaze on Matt.
“The second is that the Preservationists must believe the Navigator has arrived, and we will all have to play our parts to get you to that artifact.”
Gabrielle looks us over.
“If you're all willing, of course,” she adds.
—
We're taking a break, so I settle myself on the swinging chair on the porch just as the sun dips below the horizon, leaving a red glow behind. I feel jumpy and uneasy. I'm not certain of my place here. No matter how long you have to prepare yourself, actually becoming the thing you and your friends have been trained to kill can take some getting used to. Never mind that whole Navigator thing.
I open up my espenak and start some random queries. I become calmer as I track the paths of various comets and the orbits of far-off celestial bodies. Order exists out in space, predictability on a grand scale, and I find it soothing. The stars go about their business and never disappoint you.
There exists the occasional lost comet, the one that zips on by us in an orbit that is so large we have no recorded memory of it; we presume it's either a random passing, or an event with a purpose. But it, too, is predictable if we're willing to wait around long enough.
The springs on the screen door yawn open, pause, and snap back to bang the door shut. I tuck the espenak safely away, rest my chin on one knee and wait to see who it is. But I know. My other leg pushes the swinging chair back and forth as I stare at nothing in particular until Matt is in front of me. I'm half-excited, but mostly scared.
Matt gingerly sits beside me, and takes up the job of making the swing go. I pull my other knee up and wrap my arms around my legs, flexing my bare feet off the edge of the seat.
“Are you okay?” Matt asks.
I nod my head up and down, eyes forward; my chin stays on my knees.
“My father used an old saying a lot,” Matt confides, and I remember about him losing his parents. “He would say life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward. I didn't get it at the time.”
He pushes the swing back and holds us there. “Do you think you'll ever stop being angry with me?” he asks softly as his foot lifts, and we swing freely.
A pulse runs through my body. What does he mean? The creaky clink of the swing's frame has become very loud.
I turn onto my cheek to look over at him. My stomach flip-flops. Oh no.
“I…I'm not…why should I be angry with you?” I falter, confused. Is there something else? I lift my head and brace my hands on the edge of the seat, in case I need to run.
“You're not angry?” he asks cautiously, not believing me, and now I know what he means.
I shrug a little, sink back down to wrap my legs even more tightly, and stare straight ahead. “It's okay, you said you wouldn't leave me behind, and you didn't. I told you, you wouldn't get stuck with me, and you're not.” Then I shrug and say, “I'm Deviant. I should have told you.”
The swing stops dead.
My heart starts beating fast.
“You think I don't want you because you're Deviant?” he asks, wonder evident in his voice.
I give a little snort. “Well, you know, that and my complicated personality problem.”
I jump when his fingers touch my hair to push it behind my ear, but it's too short to stay there.
“I want you,” he says, like a lonely ache.
I can't look. I'm tingling all over. I run my finger along the date stamped into my foot. “But…?” I wait for him to elaborate as I follow the path of a lovely orange and black butterfly that should be curled up under a leaf by now.
“There's no but. I've never had one.” He ducks his head, tries to make me look at him. “And now that your other boyfriend isn't trying to slug me, and even said I should come out here and talk to you, I'm hoping my situation isn't quite so grim?”
My lips decide to give a little twitch when I recall Jay standing up for me like that.
He leans in closer, his arm slides along the back of the swing, and his scent slinks around me. A finger cautiously caresses the nape of my neck, turning the tingling into a shiver.
“Jess…” Matt's voice is a little scolding and a little pleading.
“But you saw me, saw what I am.” He’s not making sense. I need him to explain. “And then after, you wouldn't touch me and…and here…you couldn't stand to even look at me,” I sputter.
“Jess. I can't stop looking at you. You’re the one who looks away.”
That's true. He has been staring at me a lot.
“Hold up.” He raises a hand. “After we got out, in Flagstaff?” He makes a squeamish face. “Okay, I do have one 'but.' I can't kiss you with someone else's blood on you.” He squinches his face up in disgust and my nose wrinkles in sympathy.
An image of Pete interrupts my commiseration, and a coldness blankets my body.
Keep it together.
“Jess, I was responsible for the squad. I needed to make good decisions that weren't affected by my feelings, and the squad needed to have confidence in me,” he says firmly.
His finger brushes my neck again. “I needed to get us out of there. I can't be a sergeant and a boyfriend at the same time. Do you understand? I can't be distracted, and…” He lets out a frustrated sigh as he looks me over and stops at my eyes. “You distract me.”
Blood pounds in my ears. “I saw the way you looked at me in the desert, and here.” I shake my head morosely.
“Jess,” he pleads, “we'd been attacked by the hounds of hell, Boyd was gone, and you'd just saved all our lives. By yourself.” He searches for words. “I was looking at you in…in stupid disbelief, we all were. If you hadn't collapsed, I might have disregarded my no blood rule,” he adds with a tiny smile. “'Cause what you did was…I don't want to say arousing, because that might sound weird, but it was…thrilling.”
Sheree would ask me if I'm trying to catch flies, because my mouth is gaping open. What I did was thrilling?
Did not see that one coming. Not in a million years.
“And here, in the kitchen?” he runs his hand through his hair. “Jay already decked me once for putting you in danger. And then you didn't want to even see me, so you stayed in the barn. When you did come in and I saw how you looked, what I'd done to you, I didn't think you'd ever want me near you…You looked at me like you wanted me dead.”
His voice is tense and raspy, and I shake my head to tell him he's wrong. Maybe he’s scared, too, a possibility that never occurred to me. I can’t stop the hope from surging inside me until it brims over. “But you saw what I am?” I ask, to be absolutely certain.
“I don't know what Deviant even means anymore. Or care. Out here, it seems meaningless. I want you, Jess, whatever you are,” he says. “Come here.”
It’s an order, but one he’s not sure I’ll follow. I go. It’s either that or burst into tears. I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t want to think at all.
He pulls at my waist as I climb to his lap. My arms wrap around his neck, and our lips, hands, bodies, come together, and I don't care about anything else as I press tight against the hardness of his chest. There's a bang somewhere, but it's gone, forgotten. We kiss sloppily and greedily; my fingers plow through his hair, our tongues taste each other hungrily.
I'm yanked by the back of my shirt and forcefully pulled off Matt. Now I remember the bang.
“What the—” demands Jay tightly, glaring at Matt. “I said you should talk to her.”
“She started it!” complains Matt, all wide-eyed and innocent, and I chuckle-snort, which is not a good idea.
“You!” Jay says. “Inside!” He tries to push me, but grimaces from aggravating his wound.
“But—” I start to argue.
“Jessica!” he gives me his look, the one that only comes when he uses my full name, and I give up arguing.
I shrug helplessly at Matt and scoot. I figure he can take care of himself, even if Jay is as mad as all get out. I let the screen door bang, but I stay just inside and listen. My finger presses on my lip, trying to keep my smile from turning into some happy-sounding noise. Jay lays into him, about Matt being a jerk and how Jay will be watching and will kick his ass if anything happens to me. Matt doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to put up with it, he could take Jay if he wanted, but he can tell Jay is really bent out of shape. I get goose bumps. I jump when Sheree nudges me.
“How's it going?” she whispers.
“Jay is letting him have it,” I say sympathetically.
“Did you and Matt…?” She doesn’t need to finish the question, because I grin widely. “Good,” she says, approvingly.
Hendrick comes up behind us. “Jay's laying it on pretty thick, isn't he?” he asks with a wince
“Yup,” I answer with a grin.
“They want us back inside,” he says, and nods out to the porch. “Go tell them.”
“Are you crazy? I'm not going back out there.”
“Well I'm not going!” he says and backs up. “Jay would kill me, and you don’t want that on your conscience do you?”
“Oh, for the love of—” Sheree bangs out the door and Hendrick and I take off.