The Bastard Read online

  Clan of the Woodlands

  The Bastard #1

  V. K. Ludwig

  Copyright © 2019 by V. K. Ludwig

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters and events in this book are fictional. Any similarities to real people or organizations are coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Dedication

  To my dyslexic son Nicholas. I love you with all your imperfections.

  Contents

  1. Mature Reader Note

  2. 2184

  3. The doe

  4. A plan

  5. A bastard

  6. A white lie

  7. Protection

  8. Innocent touch

  9. Home Sweet Home

  10. Stiff neck

  11. Payback

  12. Yoda

  13. The hug

  14. An arrow

  15. Numb shell

  16. Spilled

  17. River

  18. No more trouble

  19. On to something

  20. A difference

  21. Get dressed

  22. The locket

  23. Memories

  24. Sacrifice

  25. Lucky father

  26. The truth

  27. A note

  28. Pancakesh

  29. Perfectly safe

  30. An almost perfect ending

  Chapter 1

  Mature Reader Note

  Recommended for mature readers due to adult content, graphic scenes and inappropriate language.

  Chapter 2

  2184

  Ayanna

  What a stroke of luck. The light beams made him hover right in front of me, spinning slower than the seconds' timer on an old analog watch: Robert, a twenty-something tall guy with the IQ of Isaac Newton and that vibrant red hair everyone hyped about. My chest tightened. In less than one year I would have his child.

  Isabelle waved at his hologram. “It doesn’t bother you that he’s lactose intolerant?”

  As she placed her hand back onto Rose, the infant scrunched up her little nose, telling us what she thought of her mother’s bouncy movements.

  “Not really.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Didn’t they shut down the last dairy farm over six months ago? I doubt it will be an issue. I think I’ll take him.”

  “Take him?” she giggled. “He’s not a meal on a menu, you know.”

  I let my eyes wander over images of fog covered mountaintops and pristine water streams, which hung on smooth curving walls. Spotless gray, they grew from polished concrete floors, turning the room into a temple of uniformity. Huge windows took up entire sides and allowed us a peek on the green hue of garden roofs from afar.

  “Excuse me,” I called out to the genetic advisor who swiped through files on her holo-band. She wiggled her wrist, and the images of them disappeared like sunbeams after nightfall.

  “Can I help you?” her forced smile did not match the sweetness of her voice. My heart rate kicked up a notch. She sure didn’t try hard enough to make me feel special, considering the occasion.

  I straightened my lotus blossom embroidered linen dress with long nervous strokes. “Um, yes. I want to add this male as my sperm donor of choice. Do I need to transfer his information, or —”

  “That’s not necessary,” she said. “See this code down there on his hologram, there in the corner? You swipe the scanner of your holo-band across, and it will add him to your digital application. He’s a fine donor, and popular right now!” she said and winked.

  “Because of his red hair?” Isabelle asked.

  “Yeah, that too.” The lady nodded. “People just love this vibrant hair color right now. But he is also free of undesirable learning differences, which is a requirement the council added only a few years ago. He fathered at least seventeen children this year.”

  Isabelle’s eyes grew wide. “Wow! That’s a bunch of siblings.”

  The advisor and I exchanged a confused look. Siblings. What an odd thing to say.

  “Your old-fashioned ideas are hilarious,” I said and poked my elbow into her ribcage. “She will have a bunch of siblings at the community home. I can’t wait to tell the kids.”

  I stared at Rose who had fallen back to sleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell underneath the bunched up blanket which clung to one of her ears. Her hair, which was thick and black at birth, had changed into the brown that gleamed golden in the sun. Some of it had fallen out at the back of her head where she spotted an almost clerical tonsure. She nursed every four hours, only woke Isabelle once at night, and smiled as long as she could hold on to a finger. A true beginner’s child. Man, I hope my girl will be like that too.

  “Are you certain this is the sperm donor of your choice?” the genetic advisor asked, her smile replaced by an all-business face. “If you change your mind at a later point, I’m afraid there would be a significant delay in your application.”

  “I’m absolutely sure,” I said, and my palms covered my mouth as if I had spilled a dirty secret.

  “Excellent,” she said. “Now if you let me scan your biometric chip real quick, I will process your application and call you to discuss the final details.”

  She hovered a black triangular device over the underside of my lower arm. Beep!

  A distorted female voice shrieked from it. “Identity confirmed. Genetic profile uploaded.”

  “Excellent,” the advisor said and pointed to a set of stainless steel benches. “Please sit down, and I will call you once needed.”

  I nodded and walked over together with Isabelle. A waiter-bot carried two emerald green mugs on a silver tray engraved with neatly arranged rows of triangles. Her choppy walk and sharp movements couldn’t fool anyone, no matter the amount of time designers invested in their hairstyles and facial expression readers. She introduced herself as Melanie and poured us a cup of tea. The steam rose into the air filling the room with fragrances of lavender and lemon peels.

  Hushed voices came from the application pods where women stood and gazed over life-size images of future fathers-to-be. Some with black hair, some blonde, but each one tall, strong and superior in any way. Hmm. Would one of them have Robert’s child too? Sheets of thick glass seemed to float along the wall and form a stairway to the next higher level: the hall of mothers.

  Isabelle caught my wandering eyes. “It’s not as special as they make it look — a bunch of smaller rooms with dimmed lights and Tibetan singing bell music playing in the background. They inject a hormone, leave you alone with your blasting mind, come back and tell you to spread your legs. Then off you go to save humankind.”

  A hint of irritation stained the smirk on her face. Was that sarcasm?

  “Does it hurt?” I asked, my stomach churning at the thought.

  She shook her head. “No more than your first time.”

  “What?” I tilted my head as if she would explain at any moment. Her lips parted and came back together several times. She gave a downplaying wave.

  “Forget what I said. It’s a tiny pinch and won’t hurt longer than two seconds. Think of your little daughter while they’re at it. It will help you relax. I’m sure they might give you an appointment before the year is over. Those who choose female embryos get priority treatment. That’s why I chose a girl, so I can get it over with before I regret that I came.”

  Regret that she came? Rose smacked her lips and tossed her head from side to side, rooting for her mother’s breast with half-open eyes. Isabelle pushed her butterfly tunic down, and suckling came from her chest a moment
later.

  Could such an innocent creature ever be something to regret? My gaze wandered off to stare into the room, and my pounding heartbeat grew louder inside my ear. I was prepared for this. The council would assign me a larger room after the impregnation — something I requested weeks ago. With my bed, hygiene pod and desk, the room burst from its seams. No way I could fit a nursery.

  “Who will replace you at work?” Isabelle asked. “Nobody from our community home is an assigned teacher as far as I know.”

  I shrugged my shoulders and checked my holo-band for the time. Why is this taking so long?

  “I heard Katherine from the Peridot District would move in with us and teach academics. And the kids will go to the community hub once a week for their projects. I’m sure the council will figure something out. They have to. I waited years for this, and I don’t want to delay it for another second. I can return to my position once I settled into a routine.”

  Isabelle pushed the purple silk over her nipple and turned Rose around, offering her the other breast. I released a deep breath. At that moment, I didn’t see a difference between forty weeks or half a lifetime. Surely, they have to feel equally long for every woman in this room.

  I looked over to the advisor who stood heads together with a man. Their eyes darted towards me every couple of seconds, and panic took hold of my chest. All air squeezed out of my lungs like someone had vacuum sealed my ribcage. Are they talking about me?

  The embroidered emblem on his gray jacket turned into a tattle-tale: a bright green tree, its trunk in the shape of a woman’s body, the toes on her feet intertwined roots. And a child grew from her crown — a procreation officer for sure.

  He nodded his head, clapped his hands once and disappeared behind a door of frosted glass. Did I fill out the wrong fields?

  The genetic advisor turned to me and startled when our eyes met. She struggled her mouth into a smile once more. The professional kind, which could be sustained even if they had to act as the messengers of bad tidings. Worst kind of smile. Ever.

  Placing my hands beside me on the cold surface of the metal bench, I wanted to let my nails claw into it.

  “Be right back,” I said to Isabelle and weaved myself around sculpture topped concrete cubes and potted ornamental trees with orange flower buds, waiting to emerge.

  “Is there an issue?” I asked the advisor.

  She pushed the letters on her keyboard with such force, the keys screeched underneath her fingertips. “Um, no… no issue,” she said. “It’s just that something showed up in your file, and I’m afraid I have no previous experience with it. I can’t take care of your application, but I already told Donald. He is one of our procreation officers and will take care of it from here. I will let you know once he is ready to see you.”

  I eyed her warily. “So, there is an issue then?”

  She continued to torture one consonant after another, and the skin between her eyes formed deep craters. Why is she trying so hard not to look at me?

  “As I explained before, “ she said in a voice as neutral as a blank page. “I'm too inexperienced. I am sorry I can’t be of more help. I will tell you once officer Donald is ready to see you. Shouldn’t be long now.”

  She pointed back at the metal bench as if she sent a puppy wordless to its kennel. I crossed my arms in front of my chest. No way I would leave from here until they had untangled this mess.

  “What is going on?” Isabelle walked up to me.

  Rose gazed up from deep brown eyes. They had tiny specks of green in them if the light shone from a particular angle. With her mouth in a narrow line, her cheeks trembled and her nose spotted a red streak which hadn’t been there before.

  “I’m waiting for the procreation officer. There is an issue,” I said with a low voice, my eyes on the advisor.

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I have to get back to the community home. This little wildfire scratched her nose, and now she is super grumpy. Give me a holler once you’re done, and I will order us something. Let’s have a takeout picnic in my room tonight.”

  I nodded, but my mind was already behind that frosted door, where a shadow crept back and forth. The echoes of Isabelle’s steps hadn’t disappeared yet, and it swung open with such force, my feet froze in the spot.

  “You must be Ayanna,” the short man said with the smile of a politician.

  He waved me inside, and I commanded my legs to take one step at a time. The armed wing chair reminded me of a time long gone. The peacock printed fabric stood in dire contrast to the otherwise sparsely furnished room — two concrete cubes connected by a glass board on top, a bamboo carved stool and a framed waterfall behind it all.

  He gestured me to sit. “Ayanna, I understand you came here today to fill out your application of impregnation, or AOI as we call it here.” He paused for a long moment, and I can’t say if I took a single breath during that time. “I’m afraid to tell you this, but the council will not approve your application.”

  My mouth turned as dry as desert sand. How can he blurt it out like that? This can’t be happening.

  “But… but w-why?” I stammered.

  He sat on his bamboo chair, leaned over his desk and intertwined his fingers. The political smile had worn off, and his piercing blue eyes now stared me down.

  “Because of the circumstances surrounding your mother, of course. Investigators never figured out why she did it.”

  My stomach convulsed. Please, don’t make me go there. Some memories are better left alone. Too late!

  Goosebumps formed along my arms. Pictures I had buried deep down pushed back onto the stage of my eyes. Powdery pieces of ceiling crumbled on the kitchen floor. An orchestra of sirens blasted from behind the apple orchard. Blood splatters on the pale green wallpaper as if someone had given a red-soaked paintbrush to a toddler.

  “Ayanna?”

  I startled. “Huh?”

  “Your file says that they never found out why she killed herself. That is a huge concern for mental instability right there. But there is something else that flagged your profile, and I want to read this to you. Give me a second. Ah, yes… here: ‘Ayanna showed little emotional response to the event and quickly integrated into her new life at the community home’. Now, don’t get me wrong. You passed your psychological evaluation with flying colors, but the council remains concerned. Tell me, did you love your mother?”

  “Excuse me?” I rubbed my sleeve across my forehead and sighed. That question can’t be serious. I loved my mother!

  “I did,” I whispered, and the words left a ball of pain at the back of my throat. My body felt hot one second and freezing cold the very next. I wanted to scream. No. I needed to scream, or I feared I would burst and spill my insides over green and blue eyespots.

  “Hm,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

  He didn’t believe me. My muscles quivered, and my jaw ached from how I had clenched it ever since I stepped into this room. I hated him. Hated him for how he threw those words at me, like a dagger which ripped through my dreams. Before I even noticed the salty droplets running down my cheek, Donald pushed a box of tissues at me.

  “Would you like to speak to a mental guide? Dalonnah is excellent at her job. She has a lot of experience with women like —”

  “No,” I held up my palm.

  His eyes softened over the plush edge of the tissue as I blew my nose.

  “There are many other ways for you to contribute to our community. Perhaps a change of scenery will help you digest this news. The Obsidian District is looking for a career counselor. And the, um, someone was looking for a teacher…” He waved his wrist and rummaged through a projection of notes, then he laughed. “Never mind. This is something we received yesterday, and I have to say I can’t wrap my head around why the council would agree to this. They are looking for someone to go to the Clans for one year as a teacher. Can you believe this?”

  The corners of my mouth seemed stuck to my chin, and I couldn’t even draw them into
a hint of politeness. No change of scenery could give me what I needed, not even if it was hundreds of miles away from here.

  Chapter 3

  The doe

  River

  I had called dibs on the heart. Nothing tastes better. Still warm when you cut it up, fried with thick sliced savory onions and chunks of juicy apple. Mmh! If Adair would help me skin the doe, I could hit the interstate by nine and be in their territory before midnight.

  “Is this gonna happen today, River?” Adair asked. “You’re not the only one who has places to be.”

  My eyes focused on her head. Fingers ready to release the bowstring into a fatal blow. Just below the back of her skull, the arrow would snap her cervix like the twigs of young pine.

  “Shh,” I breathed and looked through the scope once more. Dammit! My chest tightened. “She has a spotted fawn by her side.”

  He peeked over to the oyster-covered trunk of the ancient oak, and his expression slid into a frown.

  “Looks about three weeks old.” He shook his head. “Won’t make it through fall, and chances don’t look any better for winter. Just get over with it so we can walk home because I’m freezing my balls off.”

  I took a deep breath. Water, shelter, food. Without it, I would die before I even saw the weathered faces of the mountain scum. Two large camel bags waited on the table back at the cabin. My North Face sleeping bag hung upside down in front of the fireplace to dry. The food part concerned me.