The Underground (29 page)

“What about all those men who are dying in the dungeons all over the country? Who is murdering them?” Shayla said, tears in her voice.

“What about them?” The Queen said matter-of-factly, and Shayla knew there was no hope. Her mother would rather give her life than break a principal she believed in.

Shayla’s lip quivered as she turned away. Nathaniel tried to offer comfort, but there was nothing to ease the fact that her mother was choosing to die. Shayla looked at Simon, but he gave no visible reaction.

The Queen’s hands were tied in front of her, rather than behind as they were the previous evening. She almost looked content with her hands in her lap. Her disheveled hair hung straight and unstyled. She never went in public without her hair swept up, just as she was never seen in anything other than a sari, and it certainly would not be a torn one.
 

“That’s that,” Simon said, and the Queen looked entirely startled as he pulled a syringe from the leather pouch he had on the coffee table near the couches.

“I can’t look!” Shayla said.

“Don’t you want to say goodbye to your mom, Shayla,” the Queen said with a load of contempt.

“Mother, please! Just make the speech!” she said, begging.

“I can’t make a speech I don’t believe in,” she said, looking at her daughter. Shayla swore she saw a hint of a tear in her eye, but it couldn’t undo all the wrongs her mother had done by not repealing mandatory castration. Beyond that, there were the imprisoned men, suffering at her mother’s hands, simply because they spoke out against the Queen’s laws. Shayla knew the men deserved equal rights, but she also believed that everyone had a right to speak their minds. Too many atrocities against men had been allowed.

“If you won’t make the speech, then I will,” Shayla said. “Goodbye Mother. You had your chance to live, but you are a selfish, evil woman who is willing to let innocent people die.” She spun on her heels and marched out.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me after…” the Queen yelled just as Simon plunged the syringe into the Queen who went limp.

——–

My fellow citizens, I inform with great sadness that my mother, our Queen for more than a quarter century, has died. It is a shock to everyone, but she has had a heart attack. Ironically, she died on the eve of an important announcement she wished to make. I am here to deliver her message. My mother, our Queen, found out just yesterday that there were many men who were captured unnecessarily, unintentionally, without the support of the government after attending a number of rallies many months ago. You may have heard of these rallies to foster male rights. In Washington D.C., Kansas City, Missouri,
 
Atlanta, Georgia, in San Francisco, in California. Men were unfairly imprisoned. Today they will all be free. Their families will receive restitution as they regain their strength and footing in communities across America. We shall unite and move forward under my leadership as I assume the throne. Change is coming, but please give me time to grieve for the loss of my mother and your Queen.

Equal Rights and Justice for all People.

Thank you. Good night and God Bless.

“And, cut!” the director said just hours after Shayla left her mother, slumped over in the bubble-gum pink chair of her childhood suite that had always been a haven. Shayla knew she would never set foot in there again.

——–

“It’s going to air in ten minutes. Let’s go watch it,” she said to Nathaniel and Gerald.

“I had the green suite setup for the two of you, figuring that you wouldn’t want to stay in your mother’s suite or, obviously, yours,” Gerald said.

“Thanks, Gerald. I appreciate it. You want to come with us?” Shayla asked him, looking exhausted.

“No, that’s alright. You two need some time,” Gerald said, looking at both of them. “I have some things that need tending, but let’s connect at dinner? I’ll bring it to the green suite myself,” Gerald said.

“What about… are there arrangements…? Must there be a viewing for the public? She always said she wanted to be cremated and I want to respect that,” Shayla said, nearly breaking down.

“We’ll talk about that at dinner. Right now, get some rest. It’s been a long couple of days. I’ve already called Lorraine, and she knows you’re not coming back. If there is anything else you need before dinner, don’t hesitate to call,” Gerald said before hugging Shayla.

Nathaniel felt uneasy about how fast everything happened. One minute he’s in the Underground with a new identity, and now he’s stowed away in the Palace with Shayla at the country’s helm. He felt like such an outsider as he stood by, but when Shayla began to walk out of the room, he followed. After all, he certainly had no idea where the “green suite” was. The Palace was huge.

He tried to keep up with Shayla who walked very fast on this day. It was as if she were trying to get away from him. For the first time, he hesitated before taking her hand and decided against it. They walked quietly as they twisted through the Palace hallways. Days earlier, he and Shayla strolled through these very hallways for the first time. Their hands were intertwined and Shayla stopped often telling stories of her childhood, and pointing out her favorite paintings.

“Here,” she said finally, stopping in front of a door. She punched in a code that triggered the clicking of a door unlocking. Nathaniel followed her inside. It was beautifully decorated in various shades of green, from emerald to sea foam, with doors off the main room presumably to a bedroom and bath.

“Are you okay?” Nathaniel asked feeling nervous in her presence in a way he had not experienced since that first day they met.

“No, I’m not okay,” she said, breaking down. “I just ordered my own mother killed.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, reaching to comfort her, but she flinched.
 

“It has to be somebody’s fault. She didn’t die of old age or even disease or a car accident or anything other than a decision I made, along with you and everyone else in that room.”

“I can’t imagine what you feel like, but I’m sorry, truly sorry. I love you,” he said, but she didn’t turn to him like she usually did. She didn’t move closer. She sat on the couch with her head between her knees and cried.

——–

“I’m not hungry,” Shayla said to Gerald a few hours later as he wheeled a cart into the suite.

“Eat something. At least some bread. You need your strength. We all need our strength, together,” Gerald said looking at Shayla and Nathaniel, both seated across from him. He held the basket out to her and she pulled apart the flower of white linen that was closed around the bread to keep it fresh. She pulled out a roll and took a rabbit-sized nibble.

“Thank you,” she said to Gerald. “I thank you both.”

“You’re very welcome, but we, along with all the other men in the country, are the ones who will always thank you for your courage,” Gerald said.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I wonder,” she said, setting the roll down on her plate.

“Eight hundred and seventy two men were released from the dungeons of prisons all across the country today. You saved eight hundred and seventy two lives today alone! You will save many more as you go on.”

“I never wanted this responsibility. What if I can’t do it? My mother might be right. I’m not tough like she was. I couldn’t make the decisions she made. What if there are riots?” Shayla said.

“Those men should never have been imprisoned and you know that. They were released after watching your speech. There haven’t been riots, but there are Webavision photos of people making posters and writing on sheets that they are hanging from bridges all over the country saying: “Long Live Queen Shayla.”

“Really?” Shayla said. She looked at Nathaniel and he could see a glimpse of the love that they had shining through.
 

——–

“I’m sorry,” she said to Nathaniel as soon as Gerald left with the dinner tray.

“For what?” he asked.
 

“I wasn’t very nice earlier. This isn’t your fault.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve been under tremendous pressure. You are strong, at least as strong as your mother, but with your father’s conscience. I love you and always will love you,” he said.

She walked over and kissed him with a passion that felt freer than ever.
 

“Just give me some time. I’ll get through this. We’ll get through this,” she said.

She led him to the bedroom and he kissed her while unbuttoning her shirt and then unhooking her bra, but he stopped when he saw the tears slowly escape her eyes.

“Are you alright… we don’t have to…” he said, wiping her tear away with his finger.

“I want to. I’m happy and sad all at the same time,” she said.

“Why are you happy? Because you helped all those men?”

“Partly, but I’m also happy because I can really be with you, without hiding. I can be with you as Nathaniel DeLuca, as my husband.”

“But I didn’t even propose yet.”

“Men don’t propose.”

“They do now,” he said, getting down on one knee.

Chapter 38

Simon was still amazed about the events of the last few days. If someone told him that the Queen’s daughter was the polar political opposite of her mother and she was going to be the new Queen in less than a week, he would have laughed at the absurdity.

Now he was on his way back to the Underground to find out what was next. Chester told him that this was only the beginning. The castration laws weren’t officially changed, even though the C Centers weren’t currently performing castrations. Until there was true equality, the Underground would remain intact, with some major regrouping.

They’d be working directly with Shayla, and he looked forward to the next chapter. Perhaps there would be less driving. He wondered if he and Eudora would settle down into a little house with a yard and a garden and a white picket fence. That thought made him chuckle.
 

He still had one more delivery, his most important, and he almost felt sentimental. That wasn’t like him.

As he turned off the highway onto the bumpy road for the millionth time, he noted the Midwestern skyline that began to set over the Kansas plains. His passenger should be awake by now, but he didn’t even hear a peep from the back.

When he pulled into the Underground garage, he got out of the driver’s seat and opened the van doors. Her eyes were open, but she looked sleepy. That’s what the shot did, so he wondered how she would be in a few hours or a few days. It was certainly going to be interesting.

“I’m going to take that tape off, okay, but no screaming or biting, alright?” he said, feeling a kindness toward her that he had never thought the Queen would elicit from him. Her nod was gentle and he slowly took the tape off her mouth.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking at him in a way that made him pause.

“You’ll find out in just a minute,” he said quietly, feeling something that he wasn’t sure how to describe. This bothered him a little, but this wasn’t the time for thinking. “You alright?” he asked.

“I’m okay, thanks,” she said, with a small smile that he couldn’t help but return.

“It’s a big step down,” he said, helping her from the van. She looked around the garage but didn’t say anything as he gently took her arm and led her toward the waiting elevator. When he pushed the button, the elevator’s usual cricks and cracks sounded as they descended, their ears popping as their eyes held onto one another until the ding of the bell alerted them the doors were opening.

He led her down the hallway and saw her head turn to read the mantra of the Underground, crudely painted in large letters next to the podium where the guards usually sat.

Keep your Laws off my Body. Equal Rights and Justice for all Men.

Just then, they stepped out from behind the podium.

“Your majesty, I’m Crosby and this is our leader, Chester. Welcome to the Underground.”

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank the many people who have contributed to making this book release possible.
 

First and foremost, I'd like to thank my dear friend, Shira Block McCormick. I feel deeply blessed to have you in my life. For thirty years you have guided me and shared your wisdom, which helped me to become a better person and writer. Thank you for reading countless drafts, for your patience, tireless assistance, infinite encouragement and editing prowess.
 

I am so grateful to Amy Batchelor, Brad Feld, Cathy Hunter Gould, Deahn Berrini, Jennifer Pitts, and Jenny Lawton for your constant support from the very beginning.

I thank Renee Bacher, Christina Tiemann, Kim Fay, Halley Suitt Tucker, and Wendell Wellman for invaluable feedback and forgiving me the confidence and courage to put this story out into the world.

Gratitude to Heloisa Duarte Fitzgerald, for not only encouraging all my creative endeavors, but for your inspired photography that I feel honored to use on the book jacket as well as on my website.

Thanks to Jenny Hudson, of merrimackmedia.com, for your dedication to creating a great book and beautiful website and for making the book production process seamless. Thanks to Donna Berger for your lovely print book design. Thanks to Paul Beeley of create-imaginations.com for your gorgeous and inspired book cover art.