The darkening sky was a suitable backdrop for Ronan. Why was it so hard to look away from this guy? It’s not like we were friends. Why was he staring at me now? Maybe because I’d grown a bra size in the last three months, or maybe, as Jensen said, he’s just a freak.
Later at the lab, while testing our drinking water for heavy metals, things got even stranger. Fast footsteps echoed down the halls, distracting me from the samples on my desk. Through my dingy little window, I saw a few scientists huddled, whispering, and two Nobles from the council zoomed by. That meant only one thing—trouble. I poked my head out the door and found myself face-to-face with my supervisor, Calvin Banks.
"Go home, Barrett."
"What's going on, Cal?"
"I don't know for sure, but all Noble facilities are going on lockdown. You're not a Noble yet, so you are probably safe, whatever the threat." Calvin shifted back and forth on his feet. "Keeping you under the radar is the best way we can protect you right now. Don't come back to the facility until the lockdown is over."
"Come on, Cal, you've got to know something," I said, standing on my tiptoes to look over his shoulder at the Nobles down the hall. Calvin shifted to block my view, and we engaged in a sort of dance before I darted past him. The Nobles stopped talking as I approached, and Council Member Miriam stepped away from the group and smiled warmly.
"What's going on?" I demanded.
"Barrett, darling, go home and be with your family. You're not on the Noble register yet, and until we know the source of the threat, we want you away from the Noble facilities." She placed her hands on my shoulders and leaned down so her forehead nearly pressed against mine. "Do you understand?"
I didn't, but nodded anyway, knowing she’d dismissed me.
"You look so much like your mother," she added, patting my cheek before turning away.
After a dinner of baked potatoes and fresh greens in a coconut milk broth, I helped Anna with her homework and plopped down next to Grandma on our dilapidated couch, freshly covered in hand-woven forest-green hemp fabric. The rain pounded on our apartment windows, and Grandma cupped my hand in her own warm, delicate hands. Veins showed through her thin skin. "Nights like this remind me of your mother, you know," she said, smiling, and let her eyes close around a memory.
I tried not to think about Mom very much, Dad, either. After they died, I locked that place in my heart, but sometimes it was nice to hear Grandma talk about them.
"Do you know she would leave whatever she was doing to run outside in the rain? Always collecting her samples. I think she carried those little collection containers in her pockets and purse," Grandma chuckled.
"I don't remember that," I said.
Grandma had tears running down her cheeks, but held her smile. I hated seeing her cry. I squeezed her hand before letting it go and walked to the window to watch the sheets of rain ripple in the wind under the streetlight.
"You have her same curious spirit," Grandma said. "Always ready for adventure."
"Me?" I laughed.
"It's in there," Grandma said, "even if you haven't realized it yet. Now, what's on your mind? You looked like you wanted to tell me something when you came in."
I didn't want to tell her about Ronan or scare her with the Noble security threat. She raised her eyebrows, scrutinizing my face. "What are you worried about, Little Peapod?"
"Graaan." I griped. Little Peapod was my kid nickname. I don't even know where it came from, but I did know that she only used it when she was scared.
A sudden clap of thunder made me jump, and Gran stretched her arms out to me. I returned to the couch, rested my head on her shoulder, and let her wrap me in her warm embrace.
"Do you think Mom and Dad knew they were in danger before our boat was attacked?"
"There's just no way to know, but they were Nobles. They would have done their jobs, danger or not. You can always be proud of them for that. Are you worried about the lockdown?"
"How do you know about that?" I sat straight up.
"Jensen told me when he dropped off our rations this afternoon. Nick is on lockdown at the hospital."
Of course.
"How can I not worry about it, Gran? Something terrible could happen to us again. Sometimes, I think being a Noble is more trouble than it's worth."
"Don't think like that, Barrett. It's an honor. Without Nobles, Nuevo Leben wouldn't exist."
"I know," I sighed, "but it's dangerous, and you and Anna need me."
"Now, Barrett, as much as you do for our family, Anna and I are perfectly capable women."
"Ha ha. Anna, a capable woman?" She was only nine and a bit scatterbrained, and Grandma looked frailer every day.
"Besides," Grandma said, "the women in this family are survivors. It's in our blood,"
"What do you mean by ‘in our blood’?" I asked, thinking my mother might have a different opinion.
"Follow me. It's time I showed you something."
Grandma opened the safe in her closet. A few minutes later, my arms held eleven tattered journals, all different sizes. Some were leather-bound, some were just loose paper held together with rubber bands, but all were carefully preserved in plastic bags.
"What are these?" I asked, noticing the name Barrett Murphy written in faded ink across the top journal. "Were these written by her?" I referred to my ancestor, who lived over one hundred fifty years ago, through The Big Adjustment, and was a refugee in Nuevo Leben. Back then, it was Tucacas, Venezuela. Gran nodded. I didn't know much about her other than we shared a name.
"It's your history and mine. These journals have been passed down through our family for generations. I was your age when I first read them. Keep them safe and secret. I don't want them to end up in the Noble Archive, inaccessible to me."
"I promise I'll take care of them."
I kissed Grandma's cheek and retreated to my room, which I shared with Anna. I brought a small lamp over to the chair in the corner so I wouldn't wake her. My eyes strained, trying to adjust to the dimness. The journals were numbered on the front, one to eleven. I tucked my legs underneath me in the chair and opened the first journal.
June 18, 2028
The helicopter ride was brutal. Everyone was silent as the grave. People are saying we'll never go home again, but I don't believe that. Not yet. My heart wants to believe I'll return to school in a few days. Paul sat beside me on the ride down, holding my hand the whole way. I focused on the sweat between our palms and the buzz of the helicopter blades—anything to not think about what was going on. The sky was so blue. No sign of ash or smoke anywhere.
It's coming, though, and fast. Now, three hours later, we are about to board a boat for Panama, and the sky looks yellow and gray in the west. There are a lot of government types here, like Dad, with their families. We are apparently going into an underground bomb shelter built into the mountains of Central Panama. Paul is sitting on the pier with his head in his hands. His family will probably die. I can't believe he came with us. I wonder if I would have done the same.
Dad just came in and told me the evacuation notices were issued for the Eastern states north of Georgia all the way to Canada. Our boat will be in the Gulf waters even before the traffic jams on the interstates. It doesn't seem fair. It's—
Mom's calling me to go now.
Her words gave me chills. I'd heard so many lectures and stories about what life was like after the Big Adjustment. About how so many people suffocated from ash. How the climate changed and food became scarce, how the years of chaos and riots brought about new wars and fueled old ones. How acid rain was detected practically everywhere for a long, long time, exacerbating the global water crisis.
What must it have been like to wonder if the rain could kill you? Against the streetlight, it seemed a harmless silvery sheet. I reached for a blanket and looked out the window to see something moving out of the shadows across the street, and my stomach jumped as I focused on a familiar shape.
Lightning flashed, and for a split second, I saw him. Ronan Altkind.