Page 123 of A Better World

Drunk, she close-talked, her robe cinched tight. Linda noticed that her front teeth were false, her eyes sunken. The scions of this town were wasting away.

“Congratulations,” Linda said.

“It’ll be inspirational,” Rachel said.

“Or do you mean sensational?” Daniella asked.

“I mean neither,” Rachel said. “You’re a monster. You’re all monsters.”

They all laughed, except for Linda.

It occurred to Linda that this was what happened to people who actively upheld a system they knew was wrong. It either turned them into monsters or killed them. Sometimes, it did both.

More playacting. After the meal, families mingled. The kids all clustered in one area, the adults in the other, Keith Parson standing alone. He wore a robe like the rest of them, though the shirt under it was black and shiny.

Her crying done, Cathy joined the older soccer kids. She was more confident now, sporting the experience of a love affair in her easy walk, her tinkling Daniella laugh. They accepted her like a wayward family member who had finally come home.

“I just think we need more access to the Scottsdale residence. What’s the point of having vacation-request sheets if no one reads them?” Daniella said.

“What a good idea. Let’s take notes,” Anouk said.

They were never getting an MRI or a drug printer. Once Tania Janssen took over, they wouldn’t even have a doctor.

Early evening, the crowd thinned again. The youngest children disappeared. Drinks were served. These had the earthy taste she remembered from New Year’s Eve. Linda received hers last. “Don’t drink it,” she told the rest of them. But in Russell’s case, she was too late. Thirsty, he’d downed his glass.

More circulating, more talking. Linda’s heart stayed thumping. A sheen of sweat spread across her skin. She found herself touching her children, grabbing hands and shoulders, wanting them near. “Be careful,” she whispered to Russell, though the drink had made him bleary.

The air was electric. It crackled. Something bad was going to happen. She could feel it.

Another meeting was called. Passing her, Chernin pushed Louis in his chair. He looked through her. The spaciness, she realized, didn’t necessarily mean he was high. It meant he’d been disconnecting from himself for so long that he was only ever half there.

The four Farmer-Bowens sat together, united at last in their fear.

“There’s only about two hundred people left,” she whispered. “Where are they going? Can’t we sneak out, too?”

“I just checked again,” Russell answered, his pupils dilated from the hallucinogen. “The exits I tried are still locked.”

“Did you really tell Hip we should stay here for my health?”

He nodded, his eyes wet with fear. “Those granulocyte blockers you used to take have a lot of downsides.”

“I didn’t know you worried like that.”

“Honey, the person I love most has been sick the last decade. What is it you imagine I worry about?” he asked.

The thing about epiphanies, if you have enough of them, they begin to stick.

Many times over the years, she’d imagined they’d been out of synchronicity. Between the people called Linda and Russell, this was true. But as it pertained to the Farmer-Bowens, it was false. All along, the family had been working toward something. He’d taken one role, she’d taken the other, and together they’d driven it forward.

Their methods were different—he was infuriatingly secretive; she was open. He made the money; she raised the kids. But this was how they’d always worked, each with their eye on the larger prize: survival for their family—the Farmer-Bowen Corporation. Again and again, she’d upheld a system while complaining about it, without ever taking responsibility for being a part of it. It occurred to her right then that Rachel was right. She was and always had been complicit.

They were called into a new chamber, deeper into the belly. Above the arch, engraved in neat script across the stone:

Beware the Sacrifice!

The chairs there were larger and made of soft bird leather. By then, fully tripping off their mushroom drinks, the guests stared at ceiling lights, watched their hands make trails.

Linda looked around, noticed that Cathy was gone, and Daniella’s stepkids, too. Hip and Josie were the only kids left, of a crowd that had once again shrunk by half.

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