THE BREEDING TREE BY J. ANDERSEN
Published by Brimstone Fiction
1440 W. Taylor Street Suite 440 Chicago, Il 60607
ISBN 978-1-941103-98-2
Copyright © 2015 by J. Andersen
Cover image by Johanan Ade, http://johananade.deviantart.com
Cover design by Elaina Lee, www.forthemusedesign.com
Interior design by Atritex, www.atritex.com
Author Photo by Debbra Bailey of Phoster Images, www.phosterimages.com
Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at:
www.BrimstoneFiction.com
For more information on this book and the author visit: www.jandersenbooks.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only. Brimstone Fiction may include ghosts, werewolves, witches, the undead, soothsayers, mythological creatures, theoretical science, fictional technology, and material which, though mentioned in Scripture, may be of a controversial nature within some religious circles.
Brought to you by the creative team at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas and Brimstone Fiction:
Courtenay Dudek, Rowena Kuo, Meaghan Burnett, Eddie Jones, and Brian Cross.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Andersen, J.
The Breeding Tree / J. Andersen 1st ed.
PRAISE FOR THE BREEDING TREE
A captivating, twisty dystopian that kept me on the edge of my seat and left me craving more.
~Rebekah Purdy
Author of The Winter People
Compelling characters. A world from a vivid imagination. J Andersen masterfully uses her dystopian society to address the issue of “life”…and who gets to define it. The Breeding Tree is a gripping, worthwhile read.
~C.A. Wolcott
Author of Call to Arms
Staff Writer with Worldview Warriors (www.worldviewwarriors.org)
Speaker at The Colorado Christian Writers Conference
Fiercely addicting and refreshing dystopian that had me white-knuckling my iPad into the wee hours of the morning!
~Rachel Van Dyken
New York Times bestselling author
J. Andersen weaves what at first might appear to be a fantasy world but which quickly turns into a world that could become a stark reality with chilling consequences. An energetic and suspenseful novel with a smidgen of romance that will keep the reader turning pages until the last word is read.
~Martin Wiles
Author of Grits & Grace and God
Despite the fact that this compelling, well written novel takes place in the distant future, the killing of defective unborn babies to achieve the perfection of the human race sounds amazingly like something from today’s headlines. No matter how fictitious the story, it couldn’t be more relevant to life in contemporary America and the blasé attitude many people have about abortion.
Readers need to be careful, though. Although this story is in no way a pro-life “sermon,” it is powerful—an arrow shot straight from the gut to the heart. Watching Kate come to grips with the fact that what has always seemed normal and desirable is actually evil and undesirable might result in some changes of heart.
I pray that it does!
~Roger E. Bruner
Author of The Devil and Pastor Gus, Found in Translation, Lost in Dreams, and Yesterday’s Blossoms
A unique vision of a dystopian world. J. Andersen’s characters jump off the page!
Award-winning author of Evolution, Me and Other Freaks of Nature
I tried to put The Breeding Tree down a few times but couldn’t force myself to stop reading. Instead, I finished it in one day. This story draws you in and makes you care. In a few places, I'm pretty sure I forgot to breathe. Definitely one I want to read again.
~Kelly Martin
Author of Betraying Ever After
Characters and suspense that grab the heart and make it think and feel. This is a book to read as we ponder the direction of our future values.
~Dottie Rexford
Author of Cora Pooler, recipient of the first place Writer’s Digest Self-Published Inspirational award.
The Breeding Tree is both an entertaining and evocative read you’ll want to finish in a sitting.
~Elizabeth Seckman
Author of The Coulter Men Series
J. Andersen has written a book that will capture the reader’s attention and hold it ’til the last page of this dystopian story. Be prepared to keep turning the pages until the end. Fantastic book, and I heartily endorse it!
~Carole Brown
Award-winning author of The Redemption of Caralynne Hayman
This is a powerful story about the meaning and value of life—we don’t have enough of those, and regardless of your beliefs (pro-life, pro-choice, pro-euthanasia or against it), The Breeding Tree will make you think and, more importantly, FEEL what life means—from before your first breath to facing your last. I’m not generally a fan of dystopian fiction, but when a story uses a genre to examine the deepest meanings of love and life, and does so with grace, skill, and heart, it’s difficult to ignore it; such is the case with this novel. Congrats, J. Andersen, on a remarkable achievement.
~ Terry Trueman
Printz Honor Author,
Stuck in Neutral
DEDICATION
To Ian, Eliza, and Gemma
I’d choose you a million times over.
~Mom
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
1. THE ANNUAL PARADE AND OTHER REVOLTING PRACTICES
2. FOLLOWED
3. GRAN
4. PARANOID
5. CREATION UNIT
6. THE BOOKS HAVE EYES
7. GIVING BIRTH
8. DATE WITH A POTENTIAL STALKER
9. DATE NIGHT
10. SET UP
11. TAKING OUT THE GARBAGE
12. COMFORT FROM THE OLD AND SENILE
13. APOLOGIES WITH GIFTS
14. CAUGHT
15. SECRETS
16. A GOVERNMENT COVER-UP
17. THE MEETING
18. THE FINE LINE BETWEEN LOVE AND HATE
19. KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE AND YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER—UNLESS THEY’RE TRYING TO ABDUCT YOU
20. LOVE THINE ENEMIES
21. RIGHT AS RAIN
22. UNDER THE SURFACE
23. GENERATIONAL ADVICE
24. PRIDE
25. MORE UNVIABLE
26. A TREK THROUGH THE UNDERGROUND
27. THE HIDDEN CITY
28. JUST LIKE BATCH 4
29. THE BURNING
30. DR. FRANKENSTEIN … ALMOST
31. INTRODUCTIONS
32. THE END OF A LEGEND
33. SECRET MESSAGES AND GIFTS FROM BEYOND
34. ASSIGNMENTS
35. LISTENING
36. IT’S TIME
37. NOTHING HAPPENS ACCORDING TO PLAN
38. NO ONE TO TRUST
39. RUNNING
40. OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS
41. HOME
42. HOPE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
WRITING IS A SOLITARY endeavor. Thankfully, I’m surrounded by several amazing people who have encouraged me through this journey.
To Todd, for letting me chase this crazy dream of writing … again. I love you.
To the incredible team at Brimstone Fiction, a Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas imprint, including: Eddie Jones, Rowena Kuo, and all the others. I am humbled and honored to have worked with such a talented crew.
To my editor, Courtenay Dudek, for making me rework, rethink, and rewrite those clichéd scenes; for letting me bounce ideas off you; and for liking my edits the first time around … mostly.
To Meaghan Burnett, for walking me through this process and answering all my questions a thousand times over. You are more patient than I would ever be.
To my agent, Steve Hutson and his team at Wordwise Media, for sticking with this no-name from Podunk for so long. I’m grateful to call you my agent and my friend.
To Bri Katilus and Jeanine Bailey, for being my biggest cheerleaders, for giving the first feedback, for brainstorming and squealing at just the right times, and for fighting over the roles in the future movie. *wink*
To Deb Bailey of Phoster Images, for making me look halfway decent in my author photo. That is a talent that cannot be rivaled.
To Brandi Meacham, for taking on the book trailer project with gusto. I'll hire you again and pay you double next time!
To my writing group, The Write Circle, for cheering me on and never letting me doubt. Friday mornings are a delight because of you.
To my amazing betas, Wendy S., Danielle R., Jeanine B., Brianne K., Debbra B., Abigail B., Alexandria B., Jen P., Tracy H., Mom, Jerry M., Rell J., Penny R., Michelle T., Karen H., Meagan M., Brittany S., Elizabeth D., Jessica H., Alicia H., Brandi M., and anyone else whose name eludes me, thank you for your insight and for catching those typos.
To Mom and Dad, for always believing that everything I write is amazing. I’m sure if it’s not too heavy, this book will be pinned to your refrigerator. I love you.
To God, for teaching me patience and for continuing to give me stories to tell.
ONE
THE ANNUAL PARADE AND OTHER REVOLTING PRACTICES
Code of Conduct and Ethics: The Institute—Sector 4, USA
Section 9 Article 3.8: Community celebrations must be attended by all individuals, regardless of age, gender, or physical capacity.
THE PARADE OF VALUES is my best friend Taryn Black’s favorite event of the year, and every August 2nd she shows up at my door bubbling with energy, dressed in something fabulous; strawberry blonde hair waving in the breeze, and ready to nag me into leaving early.
Too bad I detest this day with my whole being.
For her, it’s a holiday. For me, it’s duty. Even if we were allowed to miss the event, I wouldn’t, because no matter how much I hate it, I go to support Gran. At least there will be one person there who knows the truth.
Taryn knocks at my door with an hour to spare, wearing a white sundress.
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” she shrieks at me in her breaking soprano.
“We don’t have to be there for another hour, Taryn. Chill, would you?” I pull myself out of the recliner and shuffle my fuzzy pink slippers across the tile floor to the sink.
“Katherine Dennard! Get your butt upstairs and put on something presentable this instant! We need to leave in five minutes to get a good view.” She stomps her foot like an angry child.
I clink my cereal bowl against the porcelain sink and sulk my way upstairs. “Yes, Mother,” I tease. Every year she forgets about my preferred seating … having family involved and all.
We leave twenty minutes later, and by the time we make it to the main attraction, a mob of people cover the lawn of The Institute. I flash my ID badge to the guard posted at the edge of the preferred seating and worm my way a little closer to the stage, bypassing the common seats. Taryn follows.
We find two seats in the fourth row and settle ourselves. Mom and Dad are already seated a few rows ahead, having arrived early. The tension in Dad’s neck is visible from where I sit.
At precisely 5:00 p.m., Dr. Fishgold, head of The Institute and leader of the eastern sectors, steps to the lone microphone at center stage. Normally, having the leader of the entire eastern sectors speaking in front of you should be a big deal, but since he chooses to live and work in Sector 4, his presence here is nothing new. He doesn’t even have to call attention to the crowd. Instead, he stands in front and straightens his suit coat. The people feel his presence, and a hush works its way to the far corners of the crowd.
“Welcome to the 56th annual Parade of Values.”
Cheers well up from the multitude, but he quiets them with a single motion of his hand.
It’s the same each year: a history of our medical advances and how everything is hunky dory now and how one day we’ll bring the perfected races together again to form the flawless human race. I try to let my mind wander a bit, but sitting so close requires me to at least pretend like I’m paying attention.
“It is my duty and honor to officiate this year’s celebration of our community. Nearly a century ago, the races segregated themselves into the sectors we know now in order to wipe out maladies specific to each race. Breakthroughs in medical science allowed our people to eradicate many diseases of the past. The introduction of the first Microchip Implant for Health helped destroy illnesses such as cancer and heart disease, all the while increasing the longevity and quality of the lives of our people. One day, we will once again join together to create the most perfect human race in the history of mankind.
“It is these advances in technology and medicine that we celebrate today.”
I lean into Taryn. “Think he’ll add anything new to the speech this year?”
She shrugs. “Probably …”
Suddenly, Dr. Fishgold raises his hand in the air, and the crowd follows with the same gesture. “Success and health for all,” we chant.
He cuts us off. “Do not forget how frail our bodies were in ages past. Without the evolution of our medical practices, you would be like the last generation of Natural Born, whose bodies and minds are left to chance as they age, deteriorating to mere nothingness. It’s the natural development of life without advances like the MIH.”
My stomach twists. It’s my great-gran he’s talking about.
“Today, we present them to you as a reminder of what once was and of the blessings we now have of superior mental and physical health.” He makes a sweeping gesture and steps back. “This could have been your fate.”
“Here they come.” Taryn points offstage to the line of silver-haired people. Only three of the ten can still walk by themselves, aided only with canes; the others are pushed toward the stage in wheelchairs. One of them is my gran.
My fists clench the sides of my chair. Every morsel of my body hates that they parade Gran and her friends before the masses like a circus sideshow. I have to restrain myself from running toward the stage to stop them.
Dr. Fishgold may have told part of our story, but he left out the most important detail—that they killed thousands of Natural Born when Gen 1 took over, and then tried to finish the job when the rebellion took place.
My great grandmother and the few others standing beside her are the last of the final generation of Natural Born allowed to live in our society.
Taryn must notice the look on my face because she says, “Kate, it’s no big deal, you know.”
I nod. “I know.” But Taryn can’t understand. She doesn’t have a Natural Born relative being paraded in front of
the entire community, much less one who’s entirely lucid. And I can’t tell her about Gran. No one can know about her clear mind or about what she’s told me.
Dr. Fishgold steps to the microphone again. Just seeing the movement makes my blood boil, and I brace myself for his next announcement.
He gestures to the row of people in front of him. Three of them are drooling, and almost in unison, assistants reach around with rags to wipe the saliva from their chins. One woman stares into the clouds with a blank expression. And Gran’s friend, Henry, keeps shaking his head and saying, “No, you’re wrong,” over and over.
I wonder who he’s talking about.
Gran allows her chin to drop and her eyes to glaze over. Years of practice allowed her to perfect the look of dementia.
“This, my fellow citizens, would have been your fate had our scientists not chosen to make the sacrifices they did for the good of our society. But now, you all benefit from the MIH.”
In unison, the crowd calls, “Success and health for all.”
“Not all.” Fishgold’s sharp voice stops the people’s chants. “Not all.”
I look at Taryn, who has the same confused expression I do. She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders at my silent question. Everyone around me is looking to their neighbors for an explanation. No one knows what’s going on, so we turn our attention back to Dr. Fishgold for clarification.
“There is one group of people that will not benefit from our successes. Those who work to destroy the progress mankind has made. From the raids of years ago until now, there is one group that seeks to undermine further growth and development for our people: the Natural Born Rebels.”
Whispers rise through the crowd and soon turn to gasps. From the far corner of the stage, Institute workers carrying weapons emerge. Two in front, two in back and between them a young man in handcuffs and ankle chains. The soldiers lead him onstage next to Fishgold where a folding chair awaits. One soldier forces the man to sit while another withdraws hair clippers and presses them to the man’s scalp. There’s silence as the soldier shaves the man’s head, revealing to the crowd the community identification tattoo at the base of his neck. (A barcode with identification numbers.) It looks the same as the rest that come with the MIH we all receive at birth. But it’s not.