Page 67 of Ghosted in Arkadia
Then I finally found mine. I found my soulmate.
“The soul marks,” I say defensively.
“Old wartime communication technology. And your government has been putting it inside kids for generations. Just so they marry who they are supposed to. Then have kids with them. Makes the citizens easier to control.” Killian hits his palm against the steering wheel. “They poison your food to make you sterile, Kira. And when they want you to have a baby, they give you the antidote. They’ve designed your lives like pieces on a checkerboard. Moving everyone around as they saw fit.”
“Why?” I ask, not fully understanding. Or maybe it’s just that my mind can’t fully wrap around the idea considering it’s so encompassing. Some government corruption is totally believable, but a systematic lie? Something that goes back generations?
“Because they lost the war. Two hundred and fifty years ago, they lost and were exiled. They wandered the wastelands created by their use of nuclear weapons. That was the part of the world they were bound to, while the rest of the world shut the gates and lived inside the free cities.”
I can imagine this past, but it feels more like a script out of a movie than the actual account of my world history.
“We’re going to be stopping at a waypoint in about ten miles,” Killian says, seeming to note a particular tree as we pass by.
“So, where are we going right now?”
“After the waypoint? The end of the road trip?”
I nod.
“That’s Eden. It’s not a free city, but it is a rebel village. Calvin’s mom founded it, so it was named after her.”
“How old were you when she took you out of Arkadia?”
“Fourteen.” Killian points with his chin. “That’s the waypoint up ahead.”
I look up. There are more trees, closer together than they have been on the rest of the journey. A small shack sits just to the sideof the road. It blends in with the trees beside it and easily could have been missed if I hadn’t been looking for it.
The car slows, pulling onto the shoulder before coming to a stop in front of the shack.
“You can stretch your legs if you want.” Killian undoes his seatbelt. “If you have to pee, you’re going to have to squat behind a tree.”
“Good thing I don’t have to go,” I say with a smile. I leave my seatbelt on, having zero urge to stretch my legs. I haven’t properly used them in a few months. I’m still working on getting my mind fully back online.
Killian gets out of the car, jogs over to the shack and disappears inside for a few minutes. He comes back with his arms full. He opens the back door of the car, dropping a few bags into the backseat. Peering over, I notice they are full of food and bottles of water, though I’ve never seen that kind of packaging before.
“This doesn’t have poison in it, but it tastes a little different from what you’re used to.”
I raise an eyebrow and hold out my hand. Killian rummages around in the bag, then hands me a package.
“Dried strawberries.” I shrug, opening the package to have a taste. It’s not entirely strange, but I notice the difference compared to every other strawberry I have ever eaten in my life. This has a more natural, toned down, flavor. It is also a lot less sweet. “Not bad.”
“You’ll get to where the old city food is hard to stomach.” Killian says, grabbing a bag of chips for himself. “If you ever have to have it again, that is.”
Killian comes around to the driver’s side, taking a seat but leaves the door open so a faint breeze can roll through the car. The air is warm, and I notice green leaves on the trees.
How long have I been out of it?
He reaches into the glove compartment in front of me, moving closer to me than I was prepared for. His scent washes over me. Familiar. Comforting. He grabs a kit from the drawer and wraps the band around his arm. I hear the click of the needle as it plunges into his skin.
“Who are you writing to?” I ask.
“Calvin,” Killian says as he focuses on his arm as he writes.
At waypoint 6
The blood sinks into his skin, and a few minutes later, ink lines form.
Be safe
