Folsom (End of Men, #1)(67)

I fall asleep crying but happier than I’ve been since he’s been gone. He told me he loved me…





THIRTY-FOUR





GWEN


It’s been weeks. Weeks of waiting, weeks of the stuffy basement room underneath Pippa’s.

“I don’t know how you did it for so long, being locked up at Genome Y,” I say to Laticus.

“I wasn’t really given a choice.” He’s on his bed above me, reading a book Pippa brought for him. He hasn’t looked up since she dropped it off. “I would have just worked if they let me. It’s better than being a prisoner.”

“Do you still feel that way?” I ask him.

I hear him set his book down, the paper fluttering. I can picture him frowning up at the ceiling like I’ve seen him do before.

“Yes.”

I bury my face in my hands, glad that he can’t see me. If this is what having a teenager is like, I’m not ready.

“You’re entitled to your own feelings about things, Laticus. But before you develop a solid opinion on anything, make sure you examine all sides.”

I hear him retrieve his book and turn a page. But I know he’s thinking.

A few days later, Pippa comes down to bring us cake and to visit. She tells us about the riots in the Green Region, the marches in Blue and Purple.

“And here?” I ask her. “What’s happening in Red?”

Pippa looks down, and I see shame on her face.

“Tell me what’s happening?” I leave my half-eaten slice of cake on the bed and lean toward her. Laticus is listening. I hear the bed springs creak above me as he turns to face our gregarious host.

“They’re arresting anyone who disturbs the peaces,” she says. “The governor has issued Region-wide curfews and put restrictions on public gatherings. She’s trying to quench the thirsts.”

“Well, we can’t let that happen,” I say. “Not when everyone has worked this hard. She’s trying to take eyes off the Red so the President can’t blame us for igniting a revolution.”

“Rights you are, but the people are scared.”

“So let’s make them un-scared.”

“Maybe if that was a words.” Pippa raises her eyebrows.

I want to call her out on that one so bad, Queens of Making the Words, but I resist.

“I want to do something,” I tell her. “Let me do something!”

Pippa nods slowly. Her hands are clasped between her knees; she fills my entire room.

“It’s a risk. But if you’re willings—”

“I’m willing,” I say quickly. “Get the people together. I’ll stir them up.”

Doctor Hunley comes to pick me up from Pippa’s two days later.

We drive to the edge of downtown in a run-down neighborhood and there are people lined up outside the building, waiting. For what, I’m not sure. She turns off the car and tells me to wait while she gets my door. I step outside and the cheers are deafening. Women cry and touch my hands and shoulders and hair; they hand me small candies and chocolates, and knitted booties for the baby.

I’m so overwhelmed that I start to cry and am handed pretty hankies with lace trim. They remind me of the ones Phoebe used to make my mother and I get homesick for her. We walk past everyone and before I step up the stairs, the door opens and there she stands. Phoebe. I gasp and hug her before being led into the old building. She walks alongside me, tending to my hair and telling me how pretty I look.

“You know I don’t look pretty. You just love me,” I whisper, leaning my head against hers.

“I have never been prouder of you, sweet girl,” she says. “I’m getting the word out. We all are.” She motions to the women around her.

“This is where the heart of your message is being received,” Doctor Hunley says, leaning into my ear. “These people who don’t have the resources to buy their way to a family…they’re able to see the reality of the situation and aren’t blinded by greed. The data you brought up in your latest post…would you tell us more about that? These women feel like they have finally been understood.”

I move to the podium and when the noise gradually dies down, I begin to speak. All of my failures and shortcomings seem to have led me to this very place, today, so I can be the one that finally says what needs to be said.

“Before the age of women, there was the age of men.”

You could hear a pin drop in the room, it is so quiet.

“In that age, we were ravished, sold into marriages, denied an education, raped and blamed, and refused equal treatment. I’m beyond grateful to be with you today in this age of women. But I am also grieved. The age of men is over and so is our oppression. And what has oppressed us is near extinction. Unfortunately, we will follow shortly behind them.” I swallow hard, my emotions reaching their peak. The faces staring up at me are conflicted. They are listening to me, rapt attention on their faces. I flex my hands where they can’t see, hoping I don’t look as wrung out as I feel.

“The problem lies not with men, or women, but with humanity. Perhaps we lost it, but there’s a good chance we never found it. And what has been done to us for thousands of years must not be done to them now…the men. In the age of women, we must rise for the sake of our humanity. Let us decline rather than once again turn humans into slaves. We must not repeat history; we must rewrite it. To do so, we must unite. Unite in our defense of justice for all women and for all men.”