The Compound (16 page)

The next morning, I found Mom in the family room, knitting another pink and blue blanket. Candles glowed. The scent of flowers lingered. Music played on the stereo, a sonata for cello and piano—Shostokavich.

I sat down on a couch opposite her. The soft, familiar brush of my hair falling on either side of my face gave me strength, but it still took a minute to get the words out. “Mom, do you know the code to the door?”

Her knitting needles froze as she stared at me. “How do you know about that?”

“Dad told me.”

Her hands dropped to her lap, the ball of pink yarn
unrolling onto the floor. She seemed annoyed. “Now why in the world would he tell you that?”

I explained. And then I asked again. “Do you know the code to the door?”

She harrumphed. (I think that’s what the sound would be called. Like a sarcastic cough.) “Right. That’s only in your father’s mind. And probably in his office.”

“Do you know where?”

She started knitting again, her stitches quick and precise. “Probably in one of his computers.”

I leaned my head back on the couch, trying to think. “Mom, what if something happens to him? How would we get out?”

She set down her knitting. “Don’t talk like that. Nothing’s going to happen to your father, Eli. He’s as healthy as a horse.” Her tone was not one of certainty and her words were rushed.

“Mom?”

She shook her head a bit. “He’s healthier than a horse, probably. And if he thought he was going to die, God forbid, he’d tell me everything.”

Somehow I doubted it. “Would he?”

Her brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

My eyes shut briefly. I rubbed my temples, trying to summon more energy. “Mom, I found something out last night. Something you might not believe.”

“Tell me.”

My explanation included everything about the laptop
from Eddy’s room and its wireless capability. I paused for a moment before getting to the crucial element.

“Mom, I talked to Eddy.”

Her knitting slid to the floor. “You
what?”

“The Internet works. I IM’ed Eddy. And Gram. Dad’s been lying to us since we got here.” I related everything Eddy and Gram had to say.

Mom just sat there, mouth gaping.

I needed her to trust me. “Please say you believe me.”

Her face crumpled. I knew for certain, then and there, that she truly had no idea what Dad had done. She started to cry.

“Please, Mom.”

She nodded, reaching out for my hand. I didn’t move.

Her hand dropped in her lap. When she could speak again, she had a lot of questions.

I answered the ones I could. There were many that I couldn’t.

“Eli, we have got to go to your father and tell him it’s over. We know and we’re leaving.”

I stood up and started to pace in front of the fireplace. “Do you think it’s that easy? He’ll just throw up his hands and say, ‘You got me,’ and then let us go?”

Her head was down. “No. It won’t be that easy.”

“He’s insane.”

“Eli, he’s not insane.”

I protested, telling her what Eddy had said about Dad’s biological mother.

Mom shook her head. “It’s not true. That’s an old rumor, one I even approached your father about before you were born. He found out who his biological parents were a long time ago.”

“And?”

“A couple of academically inclined teenagers too stupid to use birth control. And too young and full of potential to give it all up to raise a baby. No one was crazy.”

I was frustrated at not getting my point across. “Mom. Look at the facts. Dad doesn’t sleep for days, then that’s all he does.”

Mom shrugged. “I don’t think that’s an uncommon thing with creative geniuses. And it’s not enough to make him certifiable.”

I groaned and covered my face with my hands.

“Eli. I would love to say yes, that he’s insane. But that’s simply too easy. And safe. How convenient would that be? To explain it away to lunacy?” Her head tilted to one side. “He was lucid when he planned all this. He’s still lucid. That’s what scares me.”

I dropped my hands to look at her.

She turned toward me, her face red and tear streaked. “Yes, I’m scared. I said it. We’re in more danger now than we ever have been, Eli. If he knows we know, he may get desperate. I don’t believe he’s crazy, but he’s capable of doing something … something irrational.”

I held my arms out to the sides. “More irrational than all of this? More irrational than every moment of the last six years?”

Her expression wasn’t quite a smile. “You have a point, my boy.” She gasped. “Oh!”

“You okay?”

Her hands went to her bump. “The baby’s kicking all the time. Whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it fast. I refuse to have another of my children born in this godforsaken place. We need to see what we can find out without your father suspecting we’re fishing around. So let’s keep it between us. I don’t think you should tell Lexie or Terese.”

“Tell me what?” Lexie stepped inside the room. She looked fresh in yellow, her dark hair cascading loose.

“Nothing, sweetie.”

“Right.” Lexie sunk into the love seat opposite of us. “I heard you say, ‘Don’t tell Lexie or Terese.’”

I leaned against the mantel. I should have told her what I knew last night. “Now is not the time for this, okay? Just trust me. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Lexie crossed her arms, glaring at Mom. “I know there are a billion things you’re keeping from me. Tell me.”

“Lex—”

“Eli!” She nearly snarled at me. “Stay out of it. Mom, tell me. Tell me what you don’t want me to know.”

“Sweetie, it’s about the code.”

“What code?”

“For the door. We were talking about the code and that only your father knows what it is.”

Lexie rolled her eyes. “What’s the big secret?”

Mom held out a hand to Lexie. “We didn’t want you to worry about it. Please don’t tell Terese, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

I cleared my throat. “Lex, it’s true. No one else knows.”

“Stupid, I get that. I think you were talking about something else.”

Mom picked up her knitting again, the red metal needles clicking in her hands.

Lexie glared at her. “Look at me.” Lexie leaned forward, her face flushed. Her voice was deep, harsh. “I hate that you just tell me something and I’m supposed to take it. I hate that you’re the queen and we have to do everything you say. All you did was marry a rich guy and have his kids. That’s it, that’s all you are.”

Any sympathy I may have felt for her the night before evaporated. “Shut up!” I screamed.

Mom looked at Lexie. “I know you don’t mean that.”

Lex turned her glare to me. “You’re her lapdog, you do whatever she says.”

I retaliated by calling her a name, and I didn’t bother to use Mandarin.

“Eli, don’t talk to your sister like that.”

Dad entered the room, his glance bouncing between the three of us. “What’s all the yelling? I could hear you down the hall.”

Lexie pouted. “They won’t tell me what they’re talking about.” She looked from one parent to the other. “You both treat me like a child.”

Mom fidgeted with her knitting.

Dad scratched his chin. “Lexie, your mother and I know what’s best for you, for all of you.”

With all that I knew, it was impossible to just stand there and say nothing. “You mean you
think
you know best.”

“I do know best.” Before he said it, Dad had hesitated.

Barely, but I saw it. Which gave me the strength to say what I needed to. “I don’t think only you knowing the code for the door is the best thing, Dad.”

“And who else should know? You?” He laughed.

My hands clenched.

“Eli, you are young and impulsive. One bad day and you’d be wanting out.”

If he only knew. I went for it. “Why do you get to be the one to make all the decisions?”

Dad’s expression changed. Became hard. “Why? Because I built this place, it’s mine. I
should
make all the decisions.”

I couldn’t stop. “And the rest of us? You own us, too?”

Dad shook his head. He set a hand on his stomach, wincing. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Bull!” This wasn’t how I planned it. Too late. My emotions were running the show. “I got on the Internet, I talked to Eddy. You’ve lied to us from the beginning—there was no nuclear attack—it was all a lie. We could have left here any time. Any frickin’ time!” My tone was a screech by the time I got done.

Mom didn’t even tell me to watch my language as her eyes squeezed shut and she gripped her knitting needles so hard that her knuckles turned white.

Lexie stood up. Her forehead wrinkled as she processed what I’d said. She sank into the couch next to
Mom, apparently forgetting her animosity of moments before.

I suddenly wished I had told Lexie about Eddy and the Internet before. She deserved to know. But I wasn’t done. “When I think of everything you made us
believe
. The things you would have made us
do.”
I looked at Lexie before turning back to Dad. “And none of them were necessary. Not even one. This place wasn’t our sanctuary. This was
your
world. Your twisted world.”

Dad looked from Mom to Lexie, then back to me. His face held no expression. “I wanted to save my family from the largest menace of the modern age. I’m
twisted
for wanting to save my family?”

“But there was no nuclear attack to save us from!”

His voice was calm. “You don’t know that. You have no way of knowing what the truth is and what isn’t.”

How could he say that?

“I do! I talked to Eddy and Gram and they told me everything. …” I trailed off, sounding like a little kid trying to talk his way out of getting grounded for something inane like shaving the family cat.

Dad scratched his head. “I’m not sure what kind of person you’ve become, if you fault me that much for ensuring the survival of my wife and children.”

“I know what happened!” My voice quavered, which only served to make me more determined. I was not going to back down. “You did this to us, you set it all up. There were no nukes. I know it. I can’t prove it, but I know it’s
the truth. And now you have to give me the code, so we can get out.”

My hair had fallen in front of my eyes and I slowly pushed it back. I forced myself to calm down, sound rational for my last plea. “Just let us go, Dad. After all this time, you owe us that.”

His eyebrows lowered and his voice was thunder. “I am your father. I owe you nothing.”

“Oh my God.” Mom stood up, her face red, her hands trembling. “Is it true?”

Dad didn’t look at her.

Mom dropped back down on the couch beside Lexie, who was crying. “Is it, Rex? Was this all a joke to you?” He met her eyes. “No, Clea. Not a joke. It was never that.”

“What about me?” Mom shook her head in disbelief. “You told me my son and my mother were dead and I believed you. My God, all these years I trusted you.”

Their eyes locked. She was the first to look away. Dad gazed at her a moment more, then crossed his arms, his shoulders slumped. “No one is leaving. You can’t. Okay, so Eli thinks he had a chat with someone. That doesn’t change a thing. The door isn’t opening until the time is up. We’ve got nine years left. It’s my plan and I’m not changing it.”

Mom put her hands over her face and spoke through them. “Why would you leave Eddy out?”

“I didn’t plan to.” Dad’s voice was softer than before. He stepped backward until he bumped into a bar stool and
climbed onto it, gripping the edge of the bar for balance. “I just wanted to leave your mother out. So I left the kitten for Terese to find, I knew she’d bring it along. And I knew your mother would run back to the cabin for Eddy’s medicine. That was key, I think.” He shrugged. “To leave part of the family out there to mourn us. It made it all the more believable and tragic. However, I didn’t plan on Eddy going with her.” He held a hand out toward my mom. “Please believe me, Clea. That hurt me as much as it did you. But it was too late by then.”

Mom dropped her hands and walked over to him. “But
I
didn’t know!” Her face was so red and her eyes were nearly slits. I had never seen her that angry. “You told me my son and my mother were dead and I believed you. All these years I believed you.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks. She stepped forward and slapped him. Hard.

Dad put a hand up to his cheek. His voice was almost pleading. “Believe me, that broke my heart. Seeing your pain. But the deception was necessary for my plan.”

I wanted to kill him. “Some plan. You screwed up, Dad. The feed, the bulbs.”

His voice was a whisper. “Those weren’t entirely an accident.”

Mom stepped back and grabbed Lexie’s hand.

I couldn’t speak.

“I wanted to create the need for an alternate food source. I’d mentioned it to my … my planners, but I didn’t know for sure how they would make it happen. At the time the livestock died, I was so frustrated. Nothing had been going
as I’d planned and I wondered if I should give up. But then I realized it was the perfect opportunity.” His cheek was an angry red. “Those issues created the perfect need for an alternate food source. What I came to call the Donner Effect.”

Lexie was incredulous. “Like those pioneer people who all ate each other? You would have let us die?”

Dad’s expression softened. “No, of course not. Don’t you think the world thought the people on the Oregon Trail were crazy? To leave solid, contented lives for some stupid quest? They weren’t crazy, they were brave. Brave and determined. Our life we were living, our oh-so-easy life, didn’t give any of you a chance to be brave or determined.”

He stopped to scratch his neck. “No, you would have grown up not knowing what it’s like to have to work, to strive. I wanted to see if we could do it, if our family would really have what it takes to survive.” He paused for a moment. “I have enough money to do anything, go anywhere. To take my children anywhere, buy them anything they want. How long would that have kept us satisfied? Before I even married your mother, I had already discovered that about money. Eventually you run out of things to buy. No, that’s not quite it.” He seemed to search for the right words. “Eventually you run out of things to buy that truly make you happy.”