Speaker 1: Hey, this is Annie and Samantha. I'm welcome to Stefan.
Speaker 1: Never told you, but actually iHeartRadio, and welcome to our
Speaker 1: once a month edition of Sminty Fiction. This is a
Speaker 1: very special one. This is the last chapter. Maybe it
Speaker 1: might be split to two, but it's the last chapter
Speaker 1: of Terminus. We're finally gonna get some answers around here.
Speaker 1: Terminus is a continuing story that we've been doing I
Speaker 1: think for over a year. Is it really wow, I'm
Speaker 1: not sure we've been doing it for a long time.
Speaker 1: For a minute, for sure. I mean this is like
Speaker 1: twelve point two and they were multiple point twos, so yeah,
Speaker 1: but yeah, I'm excited to share the conclusion with all
Speaker 1: of you. This is, as I said, this one's continuing.
Speaker 1: We do have some standalones and some of them were
Speaker 1: running as classics this month because they hadween kind of based.
Speaker 1: And then there is a second and third installment. So
Speaker 1: don't worry, worry. I hope you're enjoying it, because it's
Speaker 1: gonna keep going. But yes, we are reaching an ending
Speaker 1: of sort for this first part, and I really love
Speaker 1: sharing it with all of you. I've loved hearing from
Speaker 1: all of you, even if it was just like, Hey,
Speaker 1: I like this because I wrote this in twenty ten
Speaker 1: as part of Nano Raimo, a national novel writing month,
Speaker 1: and it's been interesting to reread it now that over
Speaker 1: a decade has passed and just be like, what was
Speaker 1: going on here? What was I thinking? That was in
Speaker 1: my mind that I wrote this. I will say this
Speaker 1: one continues to highlight my fixation on maps. Wow, did
Speaker 1: I do a lot of research with that. I think
Speaker 1: that was when I was playing Fallout, and Fallout we
Speaker 1: had a very accurate maps r That's what I read
Speaker 1: somewhere and I think I got my head. I need
Speaker 1: to have an accurate map where everyone would be like,
Speaker 1: that's not what Washington, DC looks like. Yeah, and also
Speaker 1: continues to showcase what I was just really thinking about
Speaker 1: motherhood at this time and what that looks like and trauma.
Speaker 1: I would say it continues to feel kind of reminiscent
Speaker 1: to the Last of Us. But once again, the Last
Speaker 1: of Us didn't come out until twenty thirteen, so I
Speaker 1: copied you that's right. They somehow they got a copy
Speaker 1: of this story. They were like, ah, this is what
Speaker 1: we'll do. So content warning for this viruses toxic religion,
Speaker 1: which fits in well with our recent wrapped up mini
Speaker 1: series on religion. Yeah, yeah, I think probably around the
Speaker 1: same math probably, Yeah, violence implied sexual salts, ableism, and
Speaker 1: unhealthy thoughts about illness, trauma around motherhood. Maybe not the
Speaker 1: best coping mechanisms. Like there's a part of the end,
Speaker 1: especially where I was like, that's I don't know, you
Speaker 1: should be thinking like that, and I wrote it. So
Speaker 1: it's probably something to do with me slutshaming, and I
Speaker 1: think that's it. I think that's it. But I'll always
Speaker 1: let me know if I miss something. And here's our
Speaker 1: recap before we launch into this final chapter. A virus
Speaker 1: has killed off most of humanity, making it nearly impossible
Speaker 1: to have children, and because of this, the population has
Speaker 1: massively decreased in the state and the religious organization arm
Speaker 1: that is closely affiliated with the state have taken control
Speaker 1: of all of society and they have made these conception
Speaker 1: centers and they are in control of children and childhearing.
Speaker 1: Our main character, Tilda, got pregnant outside of conceptions center
Speaker 1: illegally is now on the run with her child, Madison.
Speaker 1: They are hunted as a priority number one case by
Speaker 1: the enforcers who work for the States. After many close calls,
Speaker 1: Tilden Madison met up with a resistance where they learned
Speaker 1: there was a vaccine, but the state had destroyed all
Speaker 1: but one. After getting the info and killing someone in defense.
Speaker 1: Tilden and Madison are on their way to DC, the
Speaker 1: heart of where their enemies are, but also where the
Speaker 1: vaccine is. And she's very determined to give Madison this vaccine.
Speaker 1: So that is where we are. Yeah, so please enjoy.
Speaker 1: Tilda's shrugged off her pack, thankful she picked it up
Speaker 1: during their rush to lead the Liberty Memorial and fished
Speaker 1: out some almonds and granola for them to stack on
Speaker 1: and some stale water to wash it down. The scenery
Speaker 1: shifted from flat planes to rolling fields of green trees,
Speaker 1: with only a few browning leaves fluttering on them. The
Speaker 1: further south they went, the more foliage still clung to
Speaker 1: the branches, shades of orange, reds, and yellows smudging together
Speaker 1: as they barreled past. The sky was a pale, crystal
Speaker 1: blue and almost full moon already visible in the afternoon,
Speaker 1: a semi transparent in the light. Tilda studied the map
Speaker 1: the man had given her, folding it and unfolding it
Speaker 1: and refolding it, and unfolding it again, anxious, doing her
Speaker 1: best to memorize it. When she replaced it for the
Speaker 1: third time, her fingers touched the corner of the map
Speaker 1: lin had parted to her, and something like nostalgia flickered
Speaker 1: throughout her. It was like remembering another life when she'd
Speaker 1: been hopeful that she would find a safe haven and
Speaker 1: a cure with some mystical, all powerful resistance. She and
Speaker 1: Madison chatted some subdued. Tilda tried to draw him out,
Speaker 1: get him to laugh, but to no avail. She told
Speaker 1: him stories once her mother had told to her, recounted
Speaker 1: to him some of the science as her father had
Speaker 1: taught her, until her voice went hoarse, and while he listened,
Speaker 1: she could tell by the worried twisting of his hands
Speaker 1: that he would not be distracted, couldn't take his mind
Speaker 1: from the dark and stormy future that awaited them. Tilda
Speaker 1: reached out and stilled his twisting hands with her own,
Speaker 1: kissing them gently. Remembering the blanket folded up in her pack,
Speaker 1: she tugged it free and wrapped it around them, giving
Speaker 1: up on talking, letting the clack of the wheels on
Speaker 1: the tracks and hum of the engine fill the vacuum
Speaker 1: left by their silence. Tilda dreamt a half dream that
Speaker 1: existed in the space between sleep and wakefulness. She was
Speaker 1: walking home, scuffing bright red trainers along the concrete, a
Speaker 1: different route today, a longer one through abandoned parking garages
Speaker 1: with the shells of cars and overturned shopping carts. Soon
Speaker 1: she'd be going away to a conception center ten years.
Speaker 1: She would stay there, not seeing her family, having no
Speaker 1: choice in a partner, like an animal to be bred.
Speaker 1: The whole thing made her sick, the rattle of metal,
Speaker 1: the scraping of rock. Tilda kept glancing behind her, hearing noises,
Speaker 1: and then convincing herself that she hadn't walking faster, now,
Speaker 1: wishing she hadn't taken such a secluded route. She thought
Speaker 1: she saw a man, blonde hair, blue eyed, But she
Speaker 1: was imagining things until she wasn't warm, breath on her neck,
Speaker 1: fingernails digging into her arms, her screams echoing unheard and
Speaker 1: man made caverns of a dying civilization. Was there anyone
Speaker 1: left to hear? Was she dreaming? She started awake, a
Speaker 1: scream lodged in her throat, Madison leaned against her, absent
Speaker 1: mindedly drawing pictures in the dust. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Speaker 1: She swiped at them, denying them their existence. When saying
Speaker 1: at the sickness in her back, She swallowed back her grief. Unnerved,
Speaker 1: Madison raised his eyes to hers, and she ruffled his
Speaker 1: mousy hair. He didn't smile, solemn eyes staring up at her.
Speaker 1: Stretching her back, Tilda craned her neck to glimpse out
Speaker 1: the open car door. Night was falling, pin pricks of
Speaker 1: stars twinkling in the sky. She could see a river
Speaker 1: snaking through the countryside, rolling fields with orchards at the
Speaker 1: edges of the horizon, giving way to solitary buildings and
Speaker 1: industrial yards. The train was slowing. Tilda twisted, looking down
Speaker 1: the line of carriages. A train yard loomed ahead in
Speaker 1: her space, with gaping tunnels, wide mouths of pitched black
Speaker 1: swallowing the front cars in the darkness. Recalling the instructions
Speaker 1: of the man from Chicago, Tilda stood, helping Madison to
Speaker 1: his feet. They both stretched and walked out the numbness
Speaker 1: of their legs. Tilda jogged in place to get the
Speaker 1: blood flowing back into them. Preparing to run. As it
Speaker 1: entered the graveyard of its brethren, the train slowed even further.
Speaker 1: Tilda scooped Madison in her arms and jumped down right foot,
Speaker 1: crossing over her left unused to solid ground. She quickly
Speaker 1: righted herself during the survey of the train yard, and
Speaker 1: finding a line of disused trains at the edge of
Speaker 1: the field to her right. Looking around to make sure
Speaker 1: no one was watching, Tilda stole Ford to their destination,
Speaker 1: trying to ignore the voice in her head naming this
Speaker 1: as suicide. A beating drum growing louder and louder. The
Speaker 1: air was warmer here, but not by much. In the distance,
Speaker 1: she could make out a series of oddly shaped buildings,
Speaker 1: domes and spires and columns and large triangular roofs, and
Speaker 1: there were lights, more than Tilda had ever seen. This
Speaker 1: was the last Bastion, the only city left on the
Speaker 1: continent that still functioned with the semblance of normalcy. She
Speaker 1: shimmered between trains, stepping over her cables and pipes, dirt
Speaker 1: crunching beneath her boots. Her pack snagged on a jagged
Speaker 1: piece of metal ripping through the fabric, but she didn't
Speaker 1: slow Tilda passed through rows of trains, the train they'd
Speaker 1: just been on grinding to a whining halt. A shot
Speaker 1: of adrenaline as Tilda climbed over a connector. The line
Speaker 1: of abandoned trains led to a tunnel, the same that
Speaker 1: the man had told her about. A bold flickered, shedding
Speaker 1: dim light on a pale green door on the tunnel's
Speaker 1: right side. Tilda jogged for the door, grateful to be
Speaker 1: obscured from view the wind carrying voices from the emptying train,
Speaker 1: setting Madison on his feet. She fiddled with the handle,
Speaker 1: only to find it locked. Glancing around frantically, she found
Speaker 1: a large sized rock and hefted it into her hands,
Speaker 1: and bringing it down hard on the handle, she felt
Speaker 1: it give and toss the rock to the side. This time,
Speaker 1: when she tested it, the door opened, releasing a puff
Speaker 1: of dust and stale air. Tilt appeared inside, listening, looking
Speaker 1: for anything dangerous. Once she deemed it safe as far
Speaker 1: as she could tell, she guided a frightened Madison inside
Speaker 1: and followed behind him the thunking of the door as
Speaker 1: it shut, reverberating in the enclosed space. They found themselves
Speaker 1: in a large tunnel steel tracks running through the center,
Speaker 1: dark except for the red and white lanterns casting weak
Speaker 1: light from where they hung strung along the stone walls
Speaker 1: on either side. A green tiled plaque with white lettering
Speaker 1: placed over the door, Red Rockville. The name rung familiar,
Speaker 1: Tildre called it from the map top left corner. Something
Speaker 1: on castrophobia quick in Tilden's breath, but she swallowed it down.
Speaker 1: They had a long way to go in this shadowy tunnel.
Speaker 1: She hoped that arm taking one vial of the vaccine
Speaker 1: from themselves meant that they didn't intend to destroy it.
Speaker 1: Stay behind me, Tilda told Madison in a hush tone,
Speaker 1: taking his hand. Their footsteps smacked loudly in the silence,
Speaker 1: echoing in the heavy dark. Somehow, the dank tunnel gave
Speaker 1: tilt of the same feel of the sanctuary, a place
Speaker 1: of sacred listening silence, where any sort of noise above
Speaker 1: a whisper was profane. She attributed to the dark and
Speaker 1: the quiet the same sensation of judgment, of being watched
Speaker 1: and wrongdoing. Together, they'd trek through the tunnels, stepping over
Speaker 1: puddles and bits of rocks and twisted metal, jumping over
Speaker 1: missing sections of the low ledge freezing so simultaneously that
Speaker 1: the sound of rats navigating their way through the tracks
Speaker 1: that might have been comical. Apart from being stale, the
Speaker 1: air was cold and thick with dust. Doors popped up
Speaker 1: on either side of the tunnel, always branching off to
Speaker 1: the equipment rooms or chain linked fences, but Tild ignored them,
Speaker 1: instead watching for the green plaques twin Brook, White Flints, Strathmore.
Speaker 1: When they passed these signs, platforms rose above them like
Speaker 1: cliffs or subterranean cities. Occasionally they'd passed the section of
Speaker 1: roof gave in and they could see a patch of
Speaker 1: star speckled sky or another tonel spanning above them. Time stretched,
Speaker 1: unraveling in the dark and the silent they followed. Their
Speaker 1: red lines were miles passing Friendship Heights, DuPont Circle and Farragut,
Speaker 1: where several tunnels snaked off in opposite directions and their
Speaker 1: pathway fell away. They hopped down to the track, using
Speaker 1: the rails of the red line for their guide, carefully
Speaker 1: navigating over the metal cross beams stairs led to a
Speaker 1: platform over them, until they had the sudden, horrific vision
Speaker 1: of the floor above collapsing forever and tombing them. Orange
Speaker 1: and blue tracks crossed over the red until To sloathes subconsciously,
Speaker 1: something instinctive telling her that they were getting closer. Madison
Speaker 1: stared up and around the enormous room, intercut with staircases,
Speaker 1: dissecting staircases towering over them, a chapel with arched ceilings.
Speaker 1: Trying to make as little noise as possible, They gingerly
Speaker 1: placed their feet. The dust muffled the crunching of pebbles
Speaker 1: under their shoes. Their rails for their red line veered
Speaker 1: sharply to the left until to followed them passed a
Speaker 1: sign for McPherson's square, bathed in red light. Please let's
Speaker 1: go back, Madison begged her in a whisper. I don't
Speaker 1: want to do this, Please, please let's go back. Tilda
Speaker 1: squeezed his hand, wanting to turn around herself. A caustic
Speaker 1: terror eating through her veins, she prayed inwardly, invoking whoever
Speaker 1: would listen in this imitation of a sanctuary. Madison stopped,
Speaker 1: pulling Tilda up short. She turned to him, and her
Speaker 1: breath caught at the pure grief and terror on his
Speaker 1: small face, one so filled with trust in her his
Speaker 1: bottom lip trembled, tears collecting at the corner of his eyes.
Speaker 1: So round and scared and pleading with her, she knelt
Speaker 1: in front of him, cupping either side of his face,
Speaker 1: brushing the fringe from his eyes and using her thumb
Speaker 1: to wipe away a stray tear. She pressed her forehead
Speaker 1: against his I haven't done much right by you, she confessed,
Speaker 1: or whisper loud in the silent tunnel. I need to
Speaker 1: do something right. Madison made a sound of distress and confusion.
Speaker 1: Do you know how I got my name? Madison sniffled,
Speaker 1: shaking his head. My mother chose it because it means battle.
Speaker 1: She had to fight to keep me, just like I'm
Speaker 1: going to fight for you. They're going to kill you
Speaker 1: or take me away. I'll never see you again, he whispered, desperately,
Speaker 1: urgently til to purse her lips together. Throat tense and
Speaker 1: eyes stinging, she pushed back so she could look into
Speaker 1: his hazel eyes. Almost drowned, suffocated, strangled by her love
Speaker 1: for him. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. We have to
Speaker 1: do this, but we have to do this, why, Madison
Speaker 1: tangled his fingers in her hair. Because it's a chance
Speaker 1: for you to have a better future, and I'm going
Speaker 1: to take it. Madison hugged her fiercely then, and she
Speaker 1: returned it, never wanting to let him go, but she
Speaker 1: released him. She stood. He wiped his face. I love
Speaker 1: you no matter what happens, Never forget that. Okay. She
Speaker 1: held his face for a long moment, and he gave
Speaker 1: a slow nod. All right, Tilda rose, let's go. She
Speaker 1: retook his hand and they started again. A plaque along
Speaker 1: the tunnel red Metro Center, Tilda wished the journey had
Speaker 1: taken longer. There were four hallways, two on either side
Speaker 1: of the tunnel. Each had a sign above the door
Speaker 1: indicating street corners, exit ways, platforms. They had to hop
Speaker 1: down and cross the rail for the one the man
Speaker 1: had told her to take Franconia Service exit. Tilda paused
Speaker 1: in front of the door. For some reason. The look
Speaker 1: on her mother's face when she discovered her daughter was
Speaker 1: pregnant surfaced in the chaos of her thoughts. Tilda had
Speaker 1: never found the courage to explain, had never told anyone.
Speaker 1: What did her mother think of her? She wondered, the
Speaker 1: giver of life or the slut? Tilda's shouldered the door.
Speaker 1: It opened to a small room lined with metal pipes
Speaker 1: and bunches of frayed wires of breads yellows, blues greens.
Speaker 1: On the wall. To their right was a basic metal ladder,
Speaker 1: ascending in the darkness to a trapdoor only visible by
Speaker 1: lines of light in the shape of a square leaking
Speaker 1: through the panel. As there was nowhere else to go,
Speaker 1: Tilda assumed that they had to take this ladder up
Speaker 1: to arm headquarters. Can you climb? She asked Madison, and
Speaker 1: he looked at the door they came through. Twisting his
Speaker 1: hands together, he turned back to her shoulders. She stepped
Speaker 1: on the first run, raising her eyebrows at him. Resigned,
Speaker 1: he hung his head, shuffling over to her. Tilda hoisted
Speaker 1: herself up, boots clanging mildly against the metal. In the
Speaker 1: silence behind her, she could hear her Madison slipping on
Speaker 1: the wrungs, hitting them with the toes of his shoes.
Speaker 1: Tilda couldn't help but grimace at every bang. When she
Speaker 1: reached the top, she wrapped one arm around the metal
Speaker 1: bar to leverage herself. With her other hand, she pushed
Speaker 1: up against the door, finding it heavier than she expected
Speaker 1: or it's locked, she thought grimly. Repositioning her feet this
Speaker 1: time with the aid of her legs, she pushed again
Speaker 1: and the door gave snapping upright. It almost closed on
Speaker 1: them again, and Tilda had to use her hand to
Speaker 1: steady it, almost losing her balance in the process. Panting,
Speaker 1: she heaved herself up and out of the square opening,
Speaker 1: pulling herself into a different world. Metal shelves of tools
Speaker 1: lined the walls. Two big electronic boxes humming and flashing
Speaker 1: to her immediate right, florescent light cast a stark pall
Speaker 1: on the room. She turned and stuck her hand back
Speaker 1: down into the blackness, helping Madison climb out. Berthing him
Speaker 1: from the dark. He fell against her, blinking alishly. Reaching over,
Speaker 1: Tilda pulled Madison's feet free from the door and eased
Speaker 1: it shut. Tilda couldn't hear anything over the hum of
Speaker 1: the machinery when she pictured arm headquarters. This wasn't what
Speaker 1: came to mind. Teo colored walls, black wires sprouting from
Speaker 1: a hole in the floor and running along the edge
Speaker 1: of the wall where it met the floor, A messy
Speaker 1: assortment of tools along the shelves. The harsh light was
Speaker 1: right on, though Tilda held out her hand, and Madison
Speaker 1: took it instinctively, going to her side. Together they crept
Speaker 1: to the door at the back of the long room.
Speaker 1: Tilda pressed her ear against the plain gray door, still
Speaker 1: unable to hear anything. Grasping the handle, she eased it
Speaker 1: down with bated breath. It opened with a click, and
Speaker 1: Tilda cracked it open. Looking through the sliver of space outside,
Speaker 1: she could see a well lit hallway, soft light emanating
Speaker 1: from ornate fixtures on the ceilings. The walls were panes
Speaker 1: of mahogany, the carpets a diamond pattern of burgundy and brown,
Speaker 1: none of it at all matching the room in which
Speaker 1: they had emerged. Did a lot of houses reside above
Speaker 1: the subway tunnels and have entrances into underground worlds in
Speaker 1: their back rooms. The door jerked open, yanking, her hands
Speaker 1: still attached to the handle with it gasping, She released
Speaker 1: it as it burned, stumbling back and falling hard into
Speaker 1: a metal shelving, rattling the tools. A man strode in
Speaker 1: after her, gun aimed at her chest. He had the
Speaker 1: arm insignia across his bicep, a one winged angel with
Speaker 1: a torch emitting bands of light. His lips quirked until
Speaker 1: it felt a thrill of memory at the blonde, buzz
Speaker 1: cut and steel blue eyes. We've been looking for you
Speaker 1: for a long time, panted, harshly, fighting to get her
Speaker 1: breathing under control. She wished she had at least had
Speaker 1: a chance at finding the vaccine. Let's go, Aaron and
Speaker 1: Darla want to meet you. He gestured with his weapon
Speaker 1: out into the hall. When she made no move to
Speaker 1: a bay, he reached forward and grabbed her arms, shoving
Speaker 1: her out the door. She rammed into the opposite wall.
Speaker 1: Madison cried out, stumbling after her, clinging to her hand.
Speaker 1: Madison's distress cut through Tilda's nauseating fear, and she straightened
Speaker 1: her back, pulled him closer to her side. The man
Speaker 1: kept his gun trained on her, Hovering behind her move,
Speaker 1: he commanded, taking deep breast with great effort, tilt attentatively
Speaker 1: traversed the hallway. At its end, it opened into an
Speaker 1: enormous room, a wide staircase winding along the wood paned floors.
Speaker 1: The stairs themselves matched shining wood visible on the outsides
Speaker 1: of the red carpeting down the center of the steps.
Speaker 1: The room itself was furnished with antique furniture that matched
Speaker 1: the floor and embellished with lantern light fixtures and paintings.
Speaker 1: A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, glinting with
Speaker 1: a soft light. It looked more like a mansion than
Speaker 1: any sort of headquarters. Several men and women occupied the
Speaker 1: wide room and the floors above, some cleaning weapons, others
Speaker 1: conversing quietly. The arm insignia around all of their biceps.
Speaker 1: As Tilda and Madison passed, taking tiny steps to delay
Speaker 1: the inevitable as long as possible, movement and conversation halted.
Speaker 1: Eyes fixed on them, heads twisting to watch their progress.
Speaker 1: Tilda felt that they held witnessed her execution. Up the
Speaker 1: man barked behind her masson tripped over the first stair,
Speaker 1: his legs shaking badly. Tilda assisted him to his feet,
Speaker 1: and he took the stairs carefully, pausing after each step.
Speaker 1: Their captures sighed in frustration, but otherwise let Madison set
Speaker 1: the pace for their possession. More heads turned when they
Speaker 1: reached the second landing, one woman actually halting abruptly, goggling
Speaker 1: at Madison, who hid his face and tilt his jacket.
Speaker 1: Tilda did her best to glare at those so openly
Speaker 1: watching them, but her own shaking dampened the effect. The
Speaker 1: man heard of them around the hallway, passed winddoors with
Speaker 1: old fashioned handles to the next staircase, and they proceeded
Speaker 1: to the top floor, making an already grim situation much
Speaker 1: grimmer until this view. Escaping from the ground floor was
Speaker 1: one thing. From the third floor, with dozens of armed
Speaker 1: opponents between them and the exit nigh impossible. The third
Speaker 1: floor only had three doors, and contrasted the multitude of
Speaker 1: rooms on the first and second two regular sized doors
Speaker 1: and a large double between them. Tilda feartifully glanced over
Speaker 1: the varnished railing to the floors below, confirming to herself
Speaker 1: a jump from here would most likely be fatal. At
Speaker 1: the very least she wouldn't be able to get up
Speaker 1: and walk. The house itself was really quite beautiful, she mused,
Speaker 1: and then had to stop herself from laughing aloud at
Speaker 1: the inane observation. Stay where you are, the man growled.
Speaker 1: Once they were outside the set of double doors. Keeping
Speaker 1: the gun aimed at Tilda's chest, he strode forward and
Speaker 1: wrapped sharply on the wood with his knuckles. A muffled
Speaker 1: response came from inside, and he pushed the door open
Speaker 1: with one hand, eyes darting between Tilda and whoever resided
Speaker 1: behind the door. Tilda glanced around, lips numb, and limbs
Speaker 1: like lifeless wax. Her legs twitched, itching with the urge
Speaker 1: to run and watery with panic. At the same time,
Speaker 1: her body felt like a cage, a prison designed specifically
Speaker 1: for her. Soon she would be gone and her body
Speaker 1: a vacant thing without purpose. After a brief and quiet conversation,
Speaker 1: the contents of which Tilda did not catch, the man
Speaker 1: turned back to Tilda and Madison, jerking with his head
Speaker 1: for them to enter. Madison resisted at first, tears clinging
Speaker 1: to his long eyelashes, but Tilda coaxed him forward, hoping
Speaker 1: against every rational part of her being that there was
Speaker 1: still a chance for them to escape this. The room
Speaker 1: was quite spacious, similarly decorated to the rest of the mansion,
Speaker 1: with the addition of scores of books on wooden shelves,
Speaker 1: a rectangular desk with two monitors and a silver standalone microphone,
Speaker 1: and a pair of beautifully paned windows shrouded by cream
Speaker 1: colored curtains. A bundle of black wires ran from the
Speaker 1: modems under the desk and into the floor, were Tilda assumed.
Speaker 1: They traced along the edges of the wall. A man
Speaker 1: perched on the outer edge of the desk, a gun
Speaker 1: held loosely in his hand, his well lined, angular face
Speaker 1: and graying hair making him look older than he was.
Speaker 1: Next to him stood a woman with platinum hair pulled
Speaker 1: back in a ponytail, pale blue eyes, and an already
Speaker 1: pale face, making her appear washed out. Both had applied
Speaker 1: powder to their face and an attempt to mask their sores,
Speaker 1: until his opinion, it just gave them a superficiality, like
Speaker 1: they were wind up dolls maskering as humans, and both
Speaker 1: of them couldn't take their eyes from Madison, where he
Speaker 1: sought shelter against her side, and Tilda couldn't keep her
Speaker 1: eyes from straying to the gun. Leave us, Thomas. The
Speaker 1: man instructed a soft quality to his voice, a voice
Speaker 1: Tilda recognized. Still he remained transfixed by Madison. Tilda heard
Speaker 1: the door shut behind them in silence encapsulated them. The
Speaker 1: woman was crying. Tilda realized her hands pressed her mouth
Speaker 1: and tears streaming from the corner of her eyes, taking
Speaker 1: with them some of the skin toned powder caked on
Speaker 1: her face. She appeared to be restraining herself from moving
Speaker 1: a stone in her apparent grief. Do you know who
Speaker 1: I am? The man put forth calmly, and Tilda nodded,
Speaker 1: And my wife, Tilda shook her head again. Aaron and
Speaker 1: Darla de Lane, leaders of arm the voices of the broadcast.
Speaker 1: Tilda eyed the computers and microphones behind them, wondering feverishly
Speaker 1: if her mother had sat in that very chair to
Speaker 1: transmit her plea for Tilda to come home well, for
Speaker 1: the sake of politeness. I am Aaron Delane, and this
Speaker 1: is my wife, Darla. Darla was visibly pulling herself together.
Speaker 1: And we of course know who you are, Tilda and Madison. Noen,
Speaker 1: We've been searching for a long time, waiting for this moment.
Speaker 1: He paused, straightening yet somehow looking more relaxed. It's a
Speaker 1: pleasure to finally meet you both. That last comment was softened,
Speaker 1: directed towards Madison in an effort to draw him from
Speaker 1: his hiding place. Their complete disregard for her, as if
Speaker 1: Madison was the only other person in the room, made
Speaker 1: her uncomfortable. Darla spoke, her voice thick with emotion. You
Speaker 1: can come out, child. No one's going to hurt you,
Speaker 1: if anything. Madison held more tightly to Tilda. I just
Speaker 1: want to see you. Please let me look at you.
Speaker 1: But Madison didn't move, cowering away from the two scrutinizing him.
Speaker 1: You've brainwashed him, the man stated, simply pinning Tilda with cool,
Speaker 1: accusing eyes. Throat dry, Tilda struggled to swallow. Why. She
Speaker 1: forced out, why have you been looking for us? Priority?
Speaker 1: Her voice cracked. Number one. Eron ex held deeply, once again,
Speaker 1: focusing on Madison. Because you kidnapped our grandson. Tilda felt
Speaker 1: like she'd run full force into a brick wall, her
Speaker 1: lung spasming. The words like poison, stripping her of functionality.
Speaker 1: She couldn't accept his word as truth. They didn't make sense.
Speaker 1: Our son, John is this boy's father. Tilda shook her head. Number.
Speaker 1: She tried so hard to forget the day of Madison's conception,
Speaker 1: to pretend there was no father. Reality was falling back
Speaker 1: to her. She did not want to confront this now.
Speaker 1: She didn't have the strength. Sniffling, Darla said, he didn't
Speaker 1: tell us at first, but we saw the sores. We
Speaker 1: pressed him. He confessed. Darla's voice wabbled dangerously over the word,
Speaker 1: drawing a shaking breath and gathering herself, she continued, confessed.
Speaker 1: He confessed what he had done. We disowned him, Aaron
Speaker 1: informed her in a deadened voice. He's under house arrest
Speaker 1: for his sin. He has been punished. Darla adopted a
Speaker 1: stony expression next to him, and Tilda could not help
Speaker 1: but being reminded of what she strove so valiantly to forget.
Speaker 1: A man with Darla's blonde hair and pale eyes, Aaron's
Speaker 1: heavy brow, angular features advancing on her. He told us
Speaker 1: your name. We had the Atlanta enforcers bring you into
Speaker 1: a conception center. We didn't want anyone to know what
Speaker 1: our son had done. We kept his name out of
Speaker 1: the records, and you never offered any information on the
Speaker 1: identity of your attacker. But for obvious reasons, we were
Speaker 1: very interested in your pregnancy. Didn't you ever wonder how
Speaker 1: the state found out you were pregnant? Tilda didn't respond.
Speaker 1: At the time, she'd been so terrified, she just assumed
Speaker 1: they were all knowing Madison was born premature. Darla spoke
Speaker 1: in eclipped manner relating events. Tilda remembered from another lifetime.
Speaker 1: For his health, we kept you around to help nurse him.
Speaker 1: It was one of the biggest mistakes we ever made,
Speaker 1: She spaed acidly. You stole him from us. You had
Speaker 1: no right to him. Aaron stroked his wife's arm, but
Speaker 1: she jerked away, shouting, he's named after my father. Tilda
Speaker 1: had never known where the name came from. They didn't
Speaker 1: let her choose it, just handed them back to her
Speaker 1: with a name. You kept us from our grandson for
Speaker 1: six years. Who knows what damage you've wrought. Aaron curled
Speaker 1: his lip at her in disgusted, grip tightening around his weapon.
Speaker 1: Darla tried again to cajole Madison. You're safe now, baby,
Speaker 1: Please come to me. She held out her arms, pleading
Speaker 1: with the boy who so studiously ignored her. Do you
Speaker 1: have the vaccine? Tilda almost wished they'd say no, to
Speaker 1: spare her from the decision she would have to make
Speaker 1: if they said yes. Yes, we saved one to give
Speaker 1: to Madison, Aaron replied. Tears leaked down Tilda's cheeks, one
Speaker 1: dripping off of her nose. Why did you destroy the
Speaker 1: rest of them, she gasped. Why? Because the disease was
Speaker 1: created to purge the humanity of their filth. Created created.
Speaker 1: Tilda stared at him in growing horror. Yes, the state
Speaker 1: sanctioned the creation of HSV five to help control the
Speaker 1: overpopulation problem, Aaron laughed grimly. It worked after a fashion,
Speaker 1: and God will grant us the cure when we are pure,
Speaker 1: Darla proclaimed. Tilda wanted to scream. She wanted to break things,
Speaker 1: to pound her fist against Polish mahogany until blood staining
Speaker 1: the wood and her fingers broke, scratch off the makeup
Speaker 1: caked on the faces of those who would dare judge
Speaker 1: her after what they had done. But instead she choked out,
Speaker 1: But you saved one, two, Aaron corrected, one for our
Speaker 1: grandson and one to replicate for our future family. He
Speaker 1: stood abruptly, bending over and opening a safe in the
Speaker 1: back corner. Tilda heard him snap open two locks. Abeit.
Speaker 1: Later they clicked back into place, and we shut the safe.
Speaker 1: A syringe of clear liquid in one hand, the gun
Speaker 1: in the other. Tilda's breath caught staring at the needle.
Speaker 1: She always knew this was a possibility, losing Madison to
Speaker 1: get him the vaccine. Licking her lip, she asked how
Speaker 1: do I know it works. You may be a sorry
Speaker 1: excuse for a mother, but I am not. Darla hissed.
Speaker 1: We would never inject our grandson with something dangerous. This
Speaker 1: is the vaccine for the virus. Even you can't be
Speaker 1: so selfish as to deny him that. Tilda set her
Speaker 1: jaw slowly, eyes never straying from the leaders of arm,
Speaker 1: she knelt down in front of Madison. Hey, she whispered.
Speaker 1: He tried to bury his head into her neck, but
Speaker 1: she kept his cheek. She could hear Darla gasp sharply
Speaker 1: at her first glimpse of Madison's face. He's beautiful, she breathed, Aaron,
Speaker 1: look at him. You need to let them give you
Speaker 1: the vaccine. Okay, she whispered, the weight of her words
Speaker 1: heavy in the stillness, knowing this was the last conversation
Speaker 1: she'd have with Madison and trying not to know it.
Speaker 1: Madison shook his head vehemently. No, listen, it's going to
Speaker 1: be okay. But you have to do this. You have
Speaker 1: to be brave. They'll never let me see you again.
Speaker 1: Madison wept. Tilda took a setting breath, hot tears inching
Speaker 1: down her face. She pressed her forehead against his. Darla
Speaker 1: sucked in a harsh breath. I'll always be your mother,
Speaker 1: and i will always love you. You have to do this, Madison.
Speaker 1: If you come here and let me give you the vaccine,
Speaker 1: I'll let you visit your mother, Aaron bargained. Madison stared
Speaker 1: at him, searching. Aaron nodded coaxingly. It will only hurt
Speaker 1: a bit, Darla promised, biting back sobs. Tilda turned him
Speaker 1: from her and gave him a gentle push for it.
Speaker 1: Madison made an instant move to retreat back to her,
Speaker 1: but she shook her head, the small movement monumental, costing
Speaker 1: her everything she had left. Hazel eyes radiated hurt and fear,
Speaker 1: his waiflike body trembling badly. Darla cooed at him, her
Speaker 1: face glowing with awe and happiness. Tilda felt as though
Speaker 1: she was fading away, her essence floating out of her
Speaker 1: skin and dissipating particles of dust to be scattered and forgotten.
Speaker 1: Aaron held his hand out for Madison's arm, which he
Speaker 1: really offered carefully. Aaron took the stick thin arm in
Speaker 1: his pushing up the sleeve of his jacket and flipping
Speaker 1: it over his arms. With the pale skin of his
Speaker 1: underarm faced up. He smiled wildly at the child, attempting
Speaker 1: to comfort, but badly out of practice. Darla petted his
Speaker 1: hair skittishly, almost fearful of her ability to handle her grandchild.
Speaker 1: Now that he was finally before her, Madison whimpered and
Speaker 1: tiled his hands twitched convulsively. It's okay, Erin assured him,
Speaker 1: flicking the syringe to rid it of any air bubbles
Speaker 1: and removing the cap from the needle. Just hold still,
Speaker 1: think of happy things. That's what my parents used to
Speaker 1: tell me when I was sick. Gripping the tiny wrist,
Speaker 1: Aaron pierced a vane near the underside of his elbow.
Speaker 1: The child tensed as Aaron pushed the plunger of face,
Speaker 1: screwing up. Soon enough, Aaron pulled the needle free, and
Speaker 1: Darla stepped forward, Covering the puncher with a bandage. She
Speaker 1: pecked his cheek. All done, sweet aart. Madison jerked away,
Speaker 1: running back to Tilda. Darla stretched her arm out to
Speaker 1: catch him with a cry of dismay, but he darted
Speaker 1: out of her reach. Madison, honey, you belong with us,
Speaker 1: with your grandparents. No Madison shrieked. I want to stay
Speaker 1: with Tilda. She's my mother and I love her. You
Speaker 1: don't belong with that woman, Madison. You belong in a safe,
Speaker 1: loving environment with adults who can care for you. Aaron
Speaker 1: could not completely mask his frustration. I'll tell I'll tell
Speaker 1: everyone what you did, Madison threatened. Aaron's face twitched angrily.
Speaker 1: Come here and we'll talk about it. I promise she'll
Speaker 1: be happier with us. I won't ask again. Madison didn't move.
Speaker 1: Bring him to me, Aaron commanded. Tilda was paralyzed. Something
Speaker 1: momentous in the air, immovable objects and stoppable forces. We
Speaker 1: love you more than anything. Darla held out her arms
Speaker 1: for him. You're bad people, and I'll never love you,
Speaker 1: Madison screamed, and Tilda's mouth fell open in shock. You brainwashing,
Speaker 1: Aaron shouted, advancing and raising his gun level with her. Noe.
Speaker 1: Darla shouted, darting forward. The gun fired tilt, a jerked
Speaker 1: eyes slimy shut an animal cry shredded through the air,
Speaker 1: opening her eyes til to blink. Aaron fell to his knees,
Speaker 1: pressing his hands over his wife's chest, bloodstained, her silk
Speaker 1: shirt red blossoming on white, her eyes glazed and arms twitching.
Speaker 1: Aaron sobbed her name brokenly, tears snaking around the bumps
Speaker 1: caused by his sores. Unthinking, Tilda took Madison's hand and
Speaker 1: sprinted behind a desk. She studied the equipment, searching, searching,
Speaker 1: overloaded by all the wires and buttons. A red button
Speaker 1: on the screen caught her attention like a beacon. Hands
Speaker 1: shaking in clumsy she fumbled on the microphone and armed
Speaker 1: the monitors with an air of recklessness. She bent down
Speaker 1: so her mouth hovered of the microphone, moused the cursor
Speaker 1: over the red button, labeled broadcast to all receivers, and
Speaker 1: clicked something home to life. Tilda didn't know if it worked,
Speaker 1: if anyone could hear her, but she spoke words somembling
Speaker 1: from her lips before she knew what they would be.
Speaker 1: There is a vaccine for HSV five at ARM headquarters,
Speaker 1: in a vault on the third floor. ARM destroyed the
Speaker 1: rest of the vaccines the state created HSV five, but
Speaker 1: there is one vaccine left. She broke off as the
Speaker 1: door slammed open. Thomas taking in the scene with wild eyes.
Speaker 1: When his gaze landed on Tilda. He let out a
Speaker 1: primal scream and shot at her. She ducked, shielding Madison
Speaker 1: as glass from the window exploded out, one piece slicing
Speaker 1: into Tilda's shoulder. Screaming, she crawled to the window, looking
Speaker 1: out either side. Spotting a trellis, she gestured for Madison
Speaker 1: to climb on her back. He complied, wrapping his legs
Speaker 1: around her waist and winding his arms around her back.
Speaker 1: There was more shouting. Holding onto the wall, Tilda eased
Speaker 1: out the window, placing her feet in the wooden footholds.
Speaker 1: The treillets creaked, the nails straining away from the wall,
Speaker 1: but held her weight. Tilda climbed down, her feet, fumbling
Speaker 1: with the diamond patterned woodwork. Madison's grip so tight around
Speaker 1: her neck she had difficulty drawing breath. The sound of
Speaker 1: errands broken sobbing from above them made her skin crawl.
Speaker 1: She felt as though she was entering a different world,
Speaker 1: one of darkness and wilderness and quiet, instead of the loud,
Speaker 1: bright chaos they'd just left the windows. She passed as
Speaker 1: she climbed down like pooroles into a world hurtling away
Speaker 1: from her, a world starving to swallow them up and
Speaker 1: take them with it. Soon after they passed the second
Speaker 1: floor windows, a piece of wood under Tilda's foot snapped
Speaker 1: and they plummeted to the ground. Tilda managed to turn
Speaker 1: mid fall, so they landed on their sides in the
Speaker 1: grass and thankfully soft dirt winded. Tilda rolled onto her knees,
Speaker 1: Madison sliding off her back. Okay, she gasped. He nodded,
Speaker 1: cradling his arm to his chest. A shadow cast by
Speaker 1: the light coming from the window they'd just climbed from
Speaker 1: stirred Tilda to action. Coughing, she shoved herself to her
Speaker 1: feet and grabbed Madison's hand, jogging stiltedly through the grass
Speaker 1: away from the house. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw
Speaker 1: the dark silhouette of Thomas leaning out the window, watching
Speaker 1: her flight, his gun half raised an uncertainty, but Tilda
Speaker 1: didn't stop, didn't flinch. She ran, unable to process all
Speaker 1: that she had learned, everything that had happened, a live
Speaker 1: omission she'd fabricated all these years. Unraveling all of this
Speaker 1: was happening on the surface of her mind. Passed crumbling monuments, statues,
Speaker 1: missing limbs, fallen columns, caved in dome. They ran ornate buildings,
Speaker 1: cracked faded. What was beautiful now ominous and sad, chunks
Speaker 1: of stone scattered across the street. They were almost free
Speaker 1: of the grids like layout of the streets when a
Speaker 1: rover barreled towards them. Tilda slipped on the pavement, her
Speaker 1: breath hitching. She made to turn down a side street,
Speaker 1: but the vehicle didn't even slow as it passed them.
Speaker 1: DC came alive, lights, blazing cars, speeding pass voices and electricity,
Speaker 1: a still functioning heart in a dying body. Tilda didn't
Speaker 1: stop to fathom on what she had put in motion,
Speaker 1: on what it would mean for the future. Nothing mattered
Speaker 1: that getting Madison free of this The city fell away
Speaker 1: through design, Tilda had led them away from the main
Speaker 1: highways to a battered road snaking alongside a river, an
Speaker 1: orb of silver shimmering on the water's surface. In the quiet,
Speaker 1: Tilda could hear Madison's gasping breath over the frogs and
Speaker 1: owls and cicadas, reeds rustling in the soft wind. Though
Speaker 1: no words passed between them. Tilda and Madison both getted
Speaker 1: to a step, simultaneously, bent over at the waste panting.
Speaker 1: An indeterminate amount of time passed, the river murmuring as
Speaker 1: they caught their breath. Mother and son mirrored each other,
Speaker 1: hunched over, heaving cicadas hummed all around them, water murmured,
Speaker 1: the burn faded, and her breath returned. She straightened, taking
Speaker 1: Madison's hand, and they walked along the river. The see
Speaker 1: a backdrop behind them, a grim amusement park against the inky,
Speaker 1: black sky enveloping them. They walked away from the shattered
Speaker 1: pieces of society, all that remained of what they were,
Speaker 1: and into the wilderness. Thoughts, fuzzy and unformed. Vague notions
Speaker 1: of taking Madison to meet her parents gave way to
Speaker 1: her grasping something that had been niggling at the back
Speaker 1: of her brain without her even realizing it. Madison had
Speaker 1: yet to point out any of the wildlife around them.
Speaker 1: It was so unkeeping with him that she faltered her step.
Speaker 1: Tilda squeezed his hand inquisitively, and his face turned up
Speaker 1: to her as deep in thought. Half afraid to ask,
Speaker 1: she prompted, what are you thinking about? She expected questions
Speaker 1: about his father, his grandparents, the future, but she didn't
Speaker 1: get any of that. Where did my name come? From
Speaker 1: Tilda stared into his hazel eyes, moonlight dancing off of them,
Speaker 1: and fell down a rabbit hole memories. She remembered the isolation,
Speaker 1: the nurses, cold, taking vitals, making sure she ate correctly,
Speaker 1: the constant coros with fear, as her stomach expanded and
Speaker 1: she felt tiny feet kicking inside her. Her door was locked.
Speaker 1: She tried it. Two enforcers stood guard outside. She twisted
Speaker 1: her hands, screaming and pain. No one comforted her. The
Speaker 1: baby was out of her and gone before she could
Speaker 1: see clearly, before she was entirely sure she was alive.
Speaker 1: But they brought him back. He was tiny. Tilda was scared,
Speaker 1: terrified to hold him, but she did, arms shaking as
Speaker 1: the nurses taught her clinical how to feed him. They
Speaker 1: took him away and brought him back, no words, no explanation.
Speaker 1: Her fear left her. She craved the feel of him
Speaker 1: in her arms, his wide, round eyes blinking around the
Speaker 1: room and settling on her face, hazel orbs, absent of
Speaker 1: the judgment she got from everyone else, just curious, trusting.
Speaker 1: She loved him, loved him so powerfully, so strongly, that
Speaker 1: everything else felt dim, far away. She hated when they
Speaker 1: took him away. He was hers, and when he was gone,
Speaker 1: it left a gaping chasm in her side. What's his name,
Speaker 1: she finally asked, rocking him in her arms, taking in
Speaker 1: the tuft of brown hair and tiny fingers wrapping around
Speaker 1: her thumb. Madison no reason why they had given him
Speaker 1: a name, didn't even consult her, didn't even tell her,
Speaker 1: just took away her baby and named him, waiting until
Speaker 1: he was healthy enough to be given to someone else.
Speaker 1: The nurses wanted him healthy. They were afraid of separating
Speaker 1: him from his mother until his lungs matured. A year passed.
Speaker 1: Every day her love flourishing, exponential growth, coupled with the
Speaker 1: desperate horror of the day when the nurses would not
Speaker 1: bring him back. He had trouble sleeping, waking every couple
Speaker 1: of hours, shrieking, so they brought him to Tilda, who
Speaker 1: would walk him to sleep and stay with him as
Speaker 1: he slumbered. He slept better with Tilda, so they let him.
Speaker 1: One night, Tilda waited until the guard only one at night,
Speaker 1: had wandered off in search of snacks, or to stave
Speaker 1: off boredom, or something else so small and unimportant and
Speaker 1: significant and crucial. But Tilda had been testing the door.
Speaker 1: It wasn't locked anymore. Laziness or forgetfulness, such a tiny thing.
Speaker 1: She crept into the hall, holding Madison to her, awaiting
Speaker 1: her arms as well as on our shoulders. Just the
Speaker 1: right amount to tipper over the edge, the courage or
Speaker 1: the audacity or whatever that made people tick to do
Speaker 1: things that they do, to start a journey of hunger
Speaker 1: and cold and dark, insecurity and uncertainty her birthright. She
Speaker 1: smashed the glass over the emergency switch and yanked it down.
Speaker 1: An ibnoxious siren and flashing light flared to life. In
Speaker 1: all the confusion, she took the emergency staircase, surrounded by
Speaker 1: mothers and nurses and doctors, keeping herself at the fringe
Speaker 1: and slipping away once they were outside, and spouting theories, speculating, speculating,
Speaker 1: as Tilda summon the fortitude to turn her back on
Speaker 1: them and walk into the unknown with a baby, a
Speaker 1: baby she didn't know, didn't believe she could care for,
Speaker 1: but could not separate from her very being. The shades
Speaker 1: of feelings, doubt, self hatred, and adequacies threatened to flood
Speaker 1: her senses, but Madison's hand anchored her for the first
Speaker 1: time in her life, Tilda truly felt like a mother.
Speaker 1: A sense of serendity pervaded her senses. She smiled as
Speaker 1: the knot in her stomach she'd grown accustomed to loosened,
Speaker 1: and she sighed in rapturous relief. Madison watched her with
Speaker 1: expectant eyes. The nurses told me your name. I guess
Speaker 1: Darla gave it to you. Nibbling his lip, Madison pressed,
Speaker 1: what would you have named me? Tilda stopped slowly kneeling
Speaker 1: before him. Her eyes drank him in, studying, scrutinizing, memorizing.
Speaker 1: With her fingers, she traced his eyebrows, his nose, his jawline,
Speaker 1: his ear. She tipped up his chin, and tugged a
Speaker 1: strand of his hair, all while Madison watched her anxiously,
Speaker 1: awaiting the verdict, as though this was a test that
Speaker 1: he needed to pass, that something so horrendous could lead
Speaker 1: to the creation of something so beautiful, so perfect. Tentatively,
Speaker 1: he reached out with his own fingers, trailing them over
Speaker 1: the sowreds on her cheeks. Tears strewed from her eyes,
Speaker 1: the moonlight making them tiny crystals. Tilda brought her other
Speaker 1: hand up and cut his face. I can't think of
Speaker 1: a name good enough, she admitted with a breathy laugh.
Speaker 1: Madison sobbed, and she hugged him tightly to her. After
Speaker 1: a long moment, they stood, A bird glided past the
Speaker 1: noon and over the river, racing its reflection. Tilda didn't
Speaker 1: know the consequences of her actions, didn't know what the
Speaker 1: future held for the human race and how she had
Speaker 1: shaped it. She couldn't know that at that very moment
Speaker 1: the tide was shifting, people were mobilizing. Violence would come first,
Speaker 1: then hope. Her shoulder ached from where the glass had
Speaker 1: sliced it, but it would heal. Tilda took Madison's hand.
Speaker 1: They walked, following the road into the night. And that
Speaker 1: brings us to the end of part one. As I said,
Speaker 1: I did end up writing two more books in this series,
Speaker 1: which we will share. Both of them are shorter, though
Speaker 1: they still were nano rhimo books, so they must have
Speaker 1: fit that criteria, but they're shorter than this one. I
Speaker 1: had a lot of steam on this one. The next
Speaker 1: two I was like, oh, I a trilogy here. Yeah,
Speaker 1: I did a trilogy, which sometimes when you learn there's
Speaker 1: like a second one, you're like, oh no, wait, I
Speaker 1: thought it wrapped up kind of nicely, what like, yes,
Speaker 1: there are two more? Wow, Yeah, but I can definitely
Speaker 1: see it was something. When I was reading this, I
Speaker 1: was like, Okay, as I was going over this chapter
Speaker 1: and a lot of times Christina gets like my live
Speaker 1: reaction when I'm reading it, like oh no, forgot about
Speaker 1: that that I was trying to deal with my own
Speaker 1: my own traumas and insecurities, and I was really projecting
Speaker 1: onto this main character and this idea that we've talked
Speaker 1: about a lot about motherhood and being the perfect mother
Speaker 1: and feeling like a mother or not, because that's what
Speaker 1: the character was going through this whole time, is feeling
Speaker 1: like she's not mother, which I have not had kids,
Speaker 1: So it's fascinating to me that that's what I wrote.
Speaker 1: But we do see that everywhere, and John was like this,
Speaker 1: like horror, this is more of a thriller, but you
Speaker 1: do see it all over the place. But I just
Speaker 1: it made it gave me pause where I was like,
Speaker 1: oh so I thought like that's that would be how
Speaker 1: you be the perfect mother or like, I don't know,
Speaker 1: it was interesting. It was interesting. So just to keith
Speaker 1: that in mind, I did write it right, out of
Speaker 1: college and I didn't know it. I'm not saying it's
Speaker 1: like horrible, but there were just some lines in there.
Speaker 1: I was like, oh, I feel like this is kind
Speaker 1: of like toxic thinking that I was framing as like
Speaker 1: a positive type of thinking. But we all learn and
Speaker 1: we grow, right, that's long ways change. This is right
Speaker 1: when I started the show that same year I wrote this,
Speaker 1: so I was I was in the process of great change.
Speaker 1: But yeah, I don't know if we're going to take
Speaker 1: a break or a lung stright into the next one.
Speaker 1: But as always, if we if you have any suggestions
Speaker 1: for things we can do that are in the public
Speaker 1: domain that might be fun, because we do like doing these.
Speaker 1: They are more work. Christina is a wizard and has
Speaker 1: made this possible. So thank you, thank you, thank you, Christina.
Speaker 1: But if you have any we do like doing them.
Speaker 1: They are fun, They're way we could mix some things up,
Speaker 1: so let us know. You can email us at stuff Medium, moom,
Speaker 1: stuff at iHeartMedia dot com. You find us on Twitter
Speaker 1: at mom Stuff podcast, or on Instagram and TikTok at stuff.
Speaker 1: One never told you. We have a tea public store
Speaker 1: and we have a book that got published that you
Speaker 1: can't read, you can find it stuff you should read
Speaker 1: books dot com. Thanks as always, Yes you are super
Speaker 1: producer Christina, our executive producer Maya, and your contributor Joey.
Speaker 1: Thank you and thanks to you for listening and for
Speaker 1: coming along this ride. Yeah, Stepmom Never told his production
Speaker 1: of My Heart Radio. For more podcast from My Heart Radio,
Speaker 1: you can check out the Heart Radio ap Apple podcast,
Speaker 1: or wherever you listen to your favorite shows,