Free The Refugee Sentinel by Harrison Hayes Page B

hadn’t been present at Eaton’s birth to develop fatherly hormones. The ULE Population Fairness Act hadn’t forced him to report to a ULE Decision Room within seconds of Eaton’s cord being severed. He hadn’t pressed the button new dads pressed that delivered the message “Castration Aborted” twenty percent of the time or, for the other eighty percent, the message “Castration Authorized.”
    Natt hadn’t lived through any of that, yet loved Eaton as if he had. Eaton was his ticket to heaven and the proof that no matter how screwed up the rest of life got, Natt would get this one thing right… without excuses. He loved the boy even if the boy’s abilities scared him and sometimes even made him jealous.
    Chloe was a different story. He couldn’t recall when and how he’d fallen out of love with Eaton’s mother. Courting, surprise sex and dinner dates had ended as soon as they got married. The city flooded when they moved in together and she stood no chance competing with the rotting Seattle downtown. Once in a while, despite his better judgment, Natt would drop by Déjà Vu, to take the edge off, before going home to his wife. As the months passed, the strip-club trips grew longer, the drinks multiplied and the lap-dances finished with happy endings. He wasn’t proud of himself, far from it. He still believed he was a good person but knew he had become a cheater. Chloe knew it too… women had a sixth sense about these things.
    One weekday, they stopped having sex. Fatigue and busy schedules were a logical excuse, at first. Then touching her became unpleasant, compared to how Déjà Vu made him feel. In time, she stopped pushing for it and he was happy to oblige. Chloe’s birthday, three years ago, was the last time they had been intimate. Natt had surprised her by coming home earlier, sneaking behind her in the kitchen, squeezing her breasts from behind, and whispering “Happy Birthday” in her ear.
    Since then she had been his in their marriage certificate only and the Seattle Chief of Police was too weak to end it – either his marriage or his infidelity.

fourteen days till defiance day (17
    “Last call, Colton…” Sarah sounded like a bartender but, in a way, had described her daughter’s fate as well.
    “When can I see you?” Colton asked.
    “Maybe after Defiance Day,” she said. “Maybe never,” and he wondered how many hours she was sleeping these days, assuming she slept at all. He had time to sleep and that made him feel guilty.
    “How is she?”
    “Struggling with algebra. We’ll work on her homework when I get home tonight.”
    “They get algebra homework in third grade?”
    “There’s nothing like crunching numbers while waiting for someone to vote you dead.”
    “You haven’t told her she was earmarked?” His voice was matter-of-fact.
    “I haven’t. And if you choose well, I won’t have to.”
    “I love you, Sarah… but sometimes –”
    “Just hit me with it.”
    He thought she already knew the answer but the scientist in her wanted the final proof point, for the sake of closure. “I’m not sure I can do it, Sarah. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to her but I don’t think I’m ready to die yet.”
    Silence. If Colton didn’t know her better he would have sworn she was crying. Crying silent tears in Washington, DC, with a cell phone pressed against her ear. Then her steely voice broke the illusion. “I’d pay a thousand dollars for each day I could subtract from your life span, Colton Parker.” She breathed in-between words, like she was climbing stairs. “I’ve never understood people’s obsession with religion. But now I wish God did exist, to judge you after you died. As far as I go, or your daughter, you’re dead already, or better yet, you never really happened.”
    The line went dead. It was raining in Seattle.

one year and three hundred twenty one days till defiance day (18
    The phone rang again for what, to Colton, felt like the