Rise: Populations Crumble, Book 2 by Gandy, A. (read book .txt) 📕

sure I’d come home with the perfect husband to fit right back into life at home. And, I thought I did just that. But when he first told me, I felt foolish. A little girl playing at grown-up things. And I was too embarrassed to tell you.

I’m so sorry that I didn’t give you the same time I took to get to know Patrick, and see that he is the same person I thought he was . . . more, actually. Because it’s true, Teddy. He is so much more. I know that you’re angry with both of us, but I hope that in time you will give him another chance. Because, the truth is, I love him. I’ve forgiven him, and I hope one day you will be able to forgive him, too. And me.

I hope you, Faith, and the baby are doing well—it’s not the same here without you.

Miss you,

Sadie

It’s not perfect, but it’s sincere. I fold the letter and stuff it into a stationery envelope along with the one to Mom and Dad, and the other one for the rest of my brothers. I haven’t gotten any return mail, but I’m not surprised given the seclusion they’re so adamant about enforcing here.

Patrick walks in with a dish towel over one shoulder. “How’s it going in here? Need a refill?” He points to my cup, which is still half full.

“No, thank you. It is delicious though. Are you ever going to tell me the secret ingredient?” I take a long sip, but the flavor eludes me.

He grins. “Sorry, I only have so many things I can make better than you; I have to keep that one to myself.”

A fervent knock on the front door interrupts our domestic moment. A frown takes over my face. “Are we expecting Atlas and Nell tonight?”

Patrick shakes his head. “Stay here, I’ll go see who it is.” He reaches to the waistband of his pants, and I’m surprised to see he’s got his pistol already tucked there.

He shuts the bedroom door, and I hear his footsteps down the hall, and the sliding of the lock on the front door. It’s quiet for a beat.

“Sadie, come out! We’ve got a visitor.” His voice is excited, so hopefully it’s a good visitor. Not an angry-Melissa visitor.

I quickly drop the blanket and shuffle on my cold toes into the hallway, to see Glitch standing right inside the front door. “Glitch! What are you doing here?” I cross the distance between us and give him a brief hug.

He freezes, and then recovers and pats me on the back.

“Sadie, nice to see you again. You keeping this one in line?” He pokes his thumb at Patrick.

Chuckling, I say, “Yep, it’s a hard job, but somebody has to do it.”

“Ha-ha. I’m right here, and we’re fine. But really curious what made you fly all the way up here from Georada. Is everything okay?” Patrick’s tone drops as he gets straight to business.

Glitch’s mouth pulls to one side in uncertainty. “I’m not sure. This whole situation has really been  getting under my skin. I hate a mystery that I can’t solve, you know? Oh! Hold on, before we chat.” He fumbles in his pocket for a moment, and pulls out a round silver device no bigger than a coin with a single blue button on top. He presses the button, and continues, “Just a little signal jammer, in case there are any would-be eavesdroppers,” he says, looking with a raised eyebrow at the ever-present band on my wrist. “But, anyways. I had a thought—Josephine is just one loud-mouthed woman.”

I scowl at his classification of her, and he stammers.

“Sorry, Sadie, not in a bad way. Go with me for a minute?”

Patrick puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, and Glitch continues.

“Okay, so, Josephine is one woman, right? She can't be the only one who’s been upset enough about a match—or about the rules of the program—to speak up, right?”

We both nod, unsure where he’s going with this line of thought.

“Well, that made me think, maybe she’s not the only woman who’s disappeared, either. Most NLC groups each quarter are small, one or two women at a time. Occasionally three. So, there are way less witnesses to the kind of thing that happened to Josephine, usually, and no one to follow up. So, I started digging around looking for other pregnancy records not in the main system. It was a dead end at first, because there are still women who, until the latest emergency mandate, were out there, you know, living lives with their hubsters and having the occasional baby in the wild, so to speak. Did you know that the NLC still tracks all of those? I don’t think they’re supposed to have that data.”

“Glitch, my man, get to the point, please,” Patrick interjects.

“Sorry! Right! Anyways, that was a dead end, because those women are living their normal lives. Then I narrowed it down to pregnancies in the right age range to be in the Compulsory Marriage Program, but NOT associated with a marriage record. And I hit paydirt.” He starts digging in his backpack, and pulls out a thin tablet. He taps a few times, and then flips it around so we can see a spreadsheet, full of names.

“What is this list?” I ask, dreading what he’s about to say.

“This list is eleven more women, all with pregnancy records, all listed in Mairmont, with no associated marriage record. That’s just the beginning,” he says, as my stomach drops to my feet. “Once I figured out what search criteria to run the queries on, I found women listed all over the NAA that match it. There is a group of women in almost every single tri-state. And because I’m sure you’ll ask, I checked, and these are not registered detention facilities. There’s only one of those, over in Colkanska. And most of those women get discharged without getting married or pregnant.”

“That’s . . . That’s a lot of women. How are