“You were under Elias’s control,” I said. “He was infected with the xenovirus. Apparently, he could control other people who were also infected. Maybe only women, which would explain why he wanted the men dead. But now that Elias is dead…the spell is broken. He had been a pawn of Askala.”
Somehow, the virus could only control the women. Elias had said it himself — men would just go crazy. I didn’t know why, exactly, but there it was. Elias had mentioned that it was possible that only one male could be the Prophet. That would mean that any male would have to be killed in order to keep unity.
“Whenever a boy was born,” Deborah said, stepping forward, “he was allowed to live for one year before he was sacrificed to the Voice.” Deborah made a fist. “That’s what happened with…my son.”
“Was Elias…?”
Deborah nodded. “Yes. He was the father. As he was to all of the children. And…I had to go through with it. I couldn’t let him know that I had my own thoughts. He always suspected, and I was always afraid he would find out. But when I found Ada, I knew I wasn’t alone.”
Ada said nothing, only staring at Lyn and the other Community women, tears in her eyes.
“She and I became friends, and we existed in secret, pretending the entire time that we were just as much under Elias’s spell as everyone else. I never really understood why he had such power. Why no one resisted him.” She looked at me with haunted eyes. “But what you say makes sense. Not everyone would have followed the man willingly. More would have resisted, if only they could.”
“Elias told me himself that he once tried to resist the Voice,” I said. “He said it was long ago, in the beginning. But maybe…he didn’t have much of a choice either, in the end.”
“Some girls were killed, too,” Ada said. “It’s happened a few times. We never knew the reason why, but I had to hide my sorrow, my pain. Deborah and I couldn’t reach them fast enough.”
“It was probably around the age of ten or so that I started to realize that I was different,” Deborah said. “I could say no to him, unlike everyone else. I didn’t understand this — not one bit. As soon as I realized how dangerous it was to say no, I never did. Sometimes, Elias would push things, to test us — but I always made sure I passed each test. I became good at pretending. Ada and I recently talked about trying to…kill Elias. The thought was ridiculous. We never carried anything out. It was only talk. But even talk was dangerous.” She sighed. “I just wished we had the courage to do something about it. All of this might have been stopped.”
“You did what you could,” I said. “There is no reason to be ashamed.”
It was easy to think that all it would have taken was sneaking up behind Elias and offing him with a knife. But Anna, Michael, and I had a hell of a time trying to bring him down, and we had weapons and months of fighting experience.
“No, I’m not ashamed,” Deborah said. “Elias grew worse, over time. I guess the virus started corrupting his mind even more. The visions increased and he began to be more vigilant about finding dissenters. Before, he had allowed us to exist so long as we didn’t disrupt the balance. I felt more and more out of place as time went on. All I had was Ada. I told her everything. I had to tell someone or I felt I would go crazy. If anyone did anything against Elias, they were condemned — filled with darkness.”
I suddenly felt overwhelmed with everything. I had no idea what to do with this situation — and from everyone else’s eyes — Makara, Ashton, Anna, Michael, Julian, and Grudge — they had no idea, either. It was hard to imagine something like the Community existing for fifteen years. Fifteen years of slavery to a man who was a pawn of the xenovirus.
What had Elias been like before he had visited Ragnarok Crater on that fateful recon? He was as much a victim as everyone else. It was insane to think of the power this virus had. It was capable of things beyond what we could imagine.
We had to destroy Askala. This was but a taste of the pain she would unleash on our world.
But one question remained unanswered: why Elias? Why even bother taking control of Bunker 84?
“The virus and Askala probably caused Elias to rebel against Bunker authorities,” I said. “I want to know why.”
“It wasn’t about Elias,” Ashton said. “It was about the Bunker. What makes Bunker 84 different from every other Bunker?”
“Nukes,” Michael said. “Was the Voice after that?”
Ashton nodded. “I think so. The Voice is intelligent enough to go after key targets — such as Bunker One, back in 2048.”
“Elias told me that he went to Ragnarok Crater,” I said. Everyone now turned to look at me. “He was sent to reinforce a team on his first recon at nearby Bunker 83. They flew to the Crater. That was when he started to change.”
“When did he tell you this?” Ashton asked.
“When he took me out of my cell.”
“So what are you saying?” Makara asked Ashton. “Are these women infected with the virus? How did that happen?”
“Think about it,” Anna said. “Do we really have to use our imaginations for that one?”
“Well, it might have happened that way,” Deborah said. “Another reason why it was only women who were infected.”
“Actually,” I said, “he told me he tried to convert men as well.”
“Can we change the subject?” Makara asked.
“Sorry,” I said. “Just trying to provide useful info.”
“However it was accomplished is not the point,” Ashton said. “We don’t even know if the women are infected. I’d have to take blood samples to confirm it. With Elias gone, the virus shouldn’t have any power over them. As has already been established, he worked as an intermediary between Askala and the Community. Through him, she could control them.”
“If she was just after the nukes,” I said, “how come it took Askala so long to make Elias take off with the ship?”
“She would have sooner, surely,” Ashton said. “Only no one in the Community knew how to pilot Aeneas. She may have had Elias or Lyn try to learn, but maybe she was unwilling to risk the nukes if something went wrong. So she waited.”
“Waited…for what?” Makara asked.
“Perhaps until someone who did know how to fly came to the Bunker.”
“What are you saying?” I asked. “Did Askala force us to come here?”
“Maybe. By sending her swarm after us, she made Bunker 84 our only option. She probably couldn’t have predicted that we would choose to come here, but it ended up working out that way. It was a gamble, but now this ship is loose with three nukes left. Thankfully, we are in control of it, not the enemy.”
This was all conjecture, and maybe it was healthier that way. Some things were better left unturned and forgotten. These women would never forget what they had been through. It seemed unreal. Ever since coming upon the Community, I’d wondered why no one stood up to Elias with the obvious exception of Deborah and Ada. Only those who succumbed to Elias’s direct control were spared.
“We survived,” Michael said. “We even managed to kill Chaos. What’s next?”
It was a question I’d been pondering myself. The women were still quiet, not even talking amongst themselves. After fifteen years of being controlled by the virus, it wasn’t hard to see why.
“We need to find a place for these people,” Makara said. “It won’t be easy, but we can’t leave them behind. In the meantime, we can start filling the Bunker.”
“Filling the Bunker?” Lyn asked.
“It’s winter and we have fifteen hundred people above ground that need a warm place to stay,” Makara said. “Bunker 84 is the only place that fits the bill, even if it holds a lot of bad memories.”