Ascent (10 page)

But it’s nothing but background noise – a place for the others to enjoy. Unless the pool is filled with cyanide, I have little desire to swim in it.

We’re sitting by the pool since we’re not allowed off the property. So I try to blend in with the others.

And I guess Rick thinks we’re best friends. Not that there’s anything really wrong with Rick.

He just talks a lot.

And he’s out of touch with reality.

“Do you want to see my photos?”

He’s got some type of attaché case with him – an attaché case in the middle of the desert by a pool, if you can believe that. He’s wearing board shorts with pictures of rockets and his pasty white skin is already reddening on the shoulders.

“Want to borrow some sunscreen?”

It occurs to him for the first time we’re sitting in the middle of the desert in the glaring heat and he’s on his way to becoming a cooked lobster. He looks down at his shoulders. They’re pink, and deepening. His brow furrows and he presses his finger against the redness. When he takes it away there’s a white imprint.

“Um, yeah.”

I hand him the tube and he squeezes out half the bottle. He seems totally unfamiliar with lotion application – if that’s possible.

A few minutes later he’s pink covered with a layer of white. At least he won’t get any pinker. Rick looks like the kind of guy who, if left too long in the sun, would self-combust.

Once he’s done with the lotion his focus is back on the attaché case. He places it on his lap, unlatches the front, and then stops. His face looks both excited and scared. Like he’s about to let me in on a big secret and he’s not sure if it’s the right thing to do. I can’t imagine what a guy like Rick would have in a briefcase.

“Can I trust you?”

I look around. I can’t imagine what Rick’s got in the case, but I doubt it’s anything I’m going to need to run and tell anyone about.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Good. Don’t tell anybody about what I’m going to show you. It’s the reason I came here this summer. The feds could come after me and that would not be good. If the Party finds out what I have in here, they’ll interrogate me. I’ll get kicked out of IYD.”

“Okay.” I have to admit I’m curious. I lean forward to get a closer look.

The case is filled with photographs, old newspapers, and magazine clippings. Most of the photos look like they were taken in the forest. Rick looks around. No one is paying attention to us. We’re just two guys sitting outside the circle.

“Look at this.” He hands over a photo that must be at least a decade old. It’s a lake in the forest. In the distance what looks like a bear is beside the lake. “Do you see anything?”

I narrow my eyes to examine the bear. I don’t see anything else in the picture. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be looking at.

“Do you see it?”

“It looks like a bear. Is that what I’m looking at?”

He takes the photo from my hand, examines it, and hands it back. “It’s not a bear. Look closer. What do you think it is?”

He’s right: it doesn’t really look like a bear. It actually looks like a man in a gorilla suit, but I’m not sure why that would drum up so much excitement from him. Then again, the dude is missing the bolts that hold his head together.

“Do you know what it is?” He points right at the creature in the photo.

“No.”

“You can’t tell?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He scoots closer and lowers his voice. He’s so close that sweat drips off his forehead and lands on my leg. He’s practically shoving the photo under my nose.

“It’s Bigfoot,” he whispers. His voice is excited. He’s practically panting and his breath smells like a bologna sandwich. He can barely contain himself.

“Huh?” I take the picture back from his hand. It’s grainy, so it’s hard to make out the creature off in the distance. “Dude, don’t let people hear you talking like that. They’ll send the Party nurse out here to take a look at you. They’ll attach microbes to your head and they’ll make you leave the program.”

“But you don’t understand.” He shakes his head and puts the photo back in the briefcase. “My grandfather took that picture. He hunted Bigfoot for years. He told me he saw the government come and take a specimen away. You know where they took him?” He pauses for effect and when I get the sense he’s waiting for a response, I shake my head. “They brought him here to Nevada to a secret government location. They had to have; it’s the only thing that makes sense.

He hands the picture back to me, like he wants to prove a point. I take a closer look. It just looks like a man in a gorilla suit – a hoax. But I can tell by looking at Rick that he doesn’t think so.

“Impossible.” I hand the picture back. “Bigfoot doesn’t exist.”

Rick looks disappointed. “That’s what everyone says. I have proof that shows otherwise.”

“Photos can be doctored.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. “My grandfather wouldn’t doctor a photo. He was looking for the truth.” He leans forward goes back to whispering. “Look, I’m not only here because I want to join the Party. You can’t share what I’m about to say with anyone.” He looks around the pool. Everyone is at a safe distance. Sitting next to Rick isn’t exactly the most popular place to be. “I came here because the Party is harboring Bigfoot and a flying saucer that crashed over Hanford, Washington. I’ve been following what’s going on around here with satellites. I’m sure the Party is conducting scientific experiments out at IYD. I don’t think time travel is the only thing they have up their sleeve.”

His words are crazy. “There’s nothing out there, nothing but desert and a hole in the ground. If they’re hiding anything, they’re hiding it pretty good.”

“I know. The facility they’re hiding is somewhere on the property; it’s just not visible from the location of our classes. I’ll find it though. I have to find it. It’s the reason I came here.” His eyes are far away.

“How are you planning on doing that? We’re not allowed away from the Party.”

He examines our surroundings to make sure no one is listening to us. “Look, I’m part of a group that was able to hack into the governments computers. I’ve seen proof of a secret facility in the middle of the desert. I’m sure it’s on the Party’s property. There’s more to this than they’re letting on.”

“I’m sure if it’s important then they’re not going to let a bunch of high school kids no about it,” I offer, stating the obvious.

“Maybe not now, but wait. Wait until we’re initiated into the Party. It’s why I’m here.”

I’m about to say something else when Liam walks out to the pool and waves us inside for dinner.

The conversation is over, at least for today.

Chapter Thirteen

Matt

A knock on the door awakens me from a deep sleep. I was napping. Violet was in my dreams. My life was the way I always pictured it – but that was before the accident and the Party started recruiting and invited me to learn more about their philosophy. Now nothing is the way it should be.

A loud rap echoes through my room. It won’t let up.

The knock can only mean one thing.

Something’s wrong.

I stretch my arms above my head and breathe in deeply through my lungs. My chest expands and tightens, then loosens as carbon monoxide spills into the air. I listen for another knock, but there’s nothing. When I’m sure whoever was outside is gone I get out of bed and open the door.

The hallway is empty. Whoever was here took off fast. I step out, peer this way and that. Someone has taped a gold envelope on all my fellow students’ doors.

Including mine.

Meet in the Joshua Tree Conference Room at 11:00 AM.

Lunch will be served.

Don’t be late.

I turn the postcard over. The back is blank.

The Party wants to see us. It’s Sunday afternoon and the Party members should be in their rooms on the upper floors enjoying time with their families.

Being summoned by the Party on the weekend can only mean one thing.

Something’s gone wrong.

***

The conference room is a giant box with a wall covered by a screen. It’s almost like the movie theatre Mom took me to as a kid. I remember seeing
Taxi Driver
in the theatre with her. It was an old theatre with seats that made your butt itch when you sat down. They replayed movies for a dollar on Friday nights. Friday nights were date night for Mom and I. Lynette Ryan was my mom’s favorite actress.

We used to sit and watch the movies that were meant for adults while I munched on popcorn.

I actually think mom cried when Lynette died.

At 11:00 Liam leads us into the room and he directs us to a banquet size table surrounded by chairs. Members of security lean against the wall, watching our every move. Lunch is on the table.

We sit down. The room is quiet. Tense. The sound of the giant air conditioner blowing Freon-filled air into the room is the only sound.

The door opens and a sharp beam of light floods the room. I squint against the invasion. It’s Lisa and Dr. Thompson. They’re wearing white lab coats. The light follows them into the room until the door slams behind them, turning the room back into a cave.

“Good, you’re here.” Lisa is out of breath, like she’s been running. In the dim light I can see that her normally white as paint skin is flushed red. She takes a remote out of the pocket of her lab coat and aims it at the immense screen on the wall. She looks like she’s spent the afternoon in a fit of panic. “We have a lot to discuss. I wanted to make you aware of what’s occurred before the news got to you from outside sources.”

The screen illuminates and images appear in front of us. It’s Kyle Everson, the Party’s leading candidate for the next presidential race.

And he’s with a girl …

Who’s not his wife.

“This is why Winn theory is important. Why we need you to go back and fix the things that will show up when it’s time for you to take a leadership role. We can’t give the opposition a reason to instigate an uprising. We can’t have people fight against us. We need voters to believe the Party has the best leadership has to offer. We can’t have…” she waves her arm towards the screen, “…this. It’s not acceptable. It doesn’t instill belief in the Party. ”

Lisa crosses her arms over her chest, her face etched in disgust. She’s obviously not a fan of men who roam away from their wives.

Dr. Thompson takes a spot next to Lisa and gives us a serious look. “We need a detailed outline of anything significant from your past that you need to erase. This is the first year we’re using the Slider for the benefit of the Party. There are so many possibilities, but for the purpose of those of you sitting in this room it will be for you to go back and change the past. Anything you think will reflect badly on the Party, we need to now about it, along with the dates of the occurrence. We’ll be passing out a form. It’s due in class tomorrow morning. And it needs to be thorough. Don’t hold anything back.”

I avert my eyes to the floor. They know why I’m here. They know everything about me, about all of us. Everyone knows about that night. It was featured on the front page of every news source.

Matt Fenton, All-American Athlete Driver, in Deadly Accident.

I’m a household name.

And not in a good way.

“There are so many mistakes politicians have in their past. A hundred years ago? Wouldn’t have mattered. There used to be secrets. Men had wives. All they needed was their wife to look the other direction. No one looks the other way now. You can’t walk out the front door without your every movement being tracked. And politicians? Everyone knows everything they do. We need votes. And to get votes we need perfect Party members. We need support from America. We need them to agree to the minimal amount of natural resources we’re willing to provide. And we need you all…” Dr. Thompson points at each of us, “to be the perfect specimens. To be the best representatives for the Party and to not end up,” he motions to the photo of Kyle Everson behind him, “like this.”

I look back to the photo. The girl is young. Her hair is long, black, and she’s wearing a low cut blouse. She looks about his daughter’s age. I wonder what that’s like, to have your parent hook up with one of your peers. The girl looks in awe of him, like she has no worries. And she probably doesn’t. She’s not the leader of America.

“We can’t have this.” Dr. Thompson shakes his head in disappointment. “It weakens the Party. It’s why we’re recruiting high school students. You have the chance to be the perfect member. Your mistakes are limited. We can fix them now. We need to stay in power and have the best politicians to stay there. We’ll be meeting with each of you to outline a course of action to fix the ills of your past.”

We nod our heads in unison to the illuminated backdrop of Kyle Everson.