Chapter 8: Claim Day

04/03/2025 - Wendy

The sun bathed Chantwell's pedestrian district in a golden glow that seemed almost mockingly cheerful. I sat at a wrought-iron table outside Café Nouveau, watching as people strolled past the boutiques and artisanal shops that had transformed our once-sleepy town center into what locals now jokingly called "Little Portland." Cherry blossoms from the decorative trees lining the street occasionally drifted down, landing on our table or in my untouched iced tea.

It was the last day of Spring Break and a Friday to boot, so the sidewalks were busier than usual, students enjoying the unseasonably pleasant weather.

"I have to say," Lenore sighed, pushing her asymmetrical blonde bob away from her face, "it's nice to just sit and breathe after the whole Blackout." She emphasized the term that news outlets had coined for what happened five days ago.

I nodded noncommittally, guilt churning in my stomach. Gabriel had made me promise not to tell anyone what we knew: that it wasn't solar flares, that women's brains had been deliberately altered. The weight of that secret felt physically heavy as I watched my friends discuss theories with the casual interest of people who didn't understand the stakes.

"The solar flare explanation makes absolutely no sense," Lenore continued, gesturing emphatically with her fork. The purple streak in her hair caught the light as she shook her head. "I've studied electromagnetic phenomena my whole life. Solar flares don't work like that."

"The WHO report explained it," Elaine countered, her voice carrying the measured tone she always used when trying to be reasonable. She reached for Lenore's hand across the table, her engagement ring catching the sunlight. "It has to do with high-frequency polarized particles creating a resonant effect in the brain. Women were affected because of the structure and reactivity of thalama-something…"

"Thalamocortical," Lenore supplied, rolling her eyes affectionately.

"Right, thalamocortical loops in the brain," Elaine continued, her dark fingers still intertwined with Lenore's pale ones. "They're saying it's extremely unlikely to ever happen again."

I could tell Elaine was just repeating what she'd read, throwing out scientific terms that weren't from her field. She was a computational physicist, not a neurologist. Part of me wanted to believe she actually accepted this explanation, but I knew better. Elaine was too smart. She was trying to convince herself.

"Bullshit," Lenore said flatly. "Solar flares don't do shit to the human brain, and they certainly don't affect only women. Something is very fishy about all of this."

The way they looked at each other, Lenore with her passionate skepticism, Elaine with her calm but not biased rationality, made my heart ache. They balanced each other so perfectly, their love evident in every glance, every casual touch, and they had no idea how much danger they might be in.

I spotted Cedric before the others did, his broad shoulders and steady gait unmistakable even from a distance. He was wearing his work clothes, jeans and a button-up with the sleeves rolled to expose forearms marked with sawdust. He must have come straight from a job site.

"Cedric's here," I announced, standing up perhaps too eagerly. I needed a moment away from the table, away from the lies I was telling by omission.

I met him halfway and wrapped my arms around him in a hug that was more **** than I intended. He smelled like wood and honest sweat, so different from Gabriel's clean, academic scent.

"Has Gabriel told you anything?" I whispered against his shoulder. "About what Ramona and Phoebe are working on?" Gabriel had been frustratingly tight-lipped since that night, claiming it was better if I didn't know the details. As if I hadn't been there when it all started.

Cedric pulled back slightly, his warm brown eyes not quite meeting mine. "No, nothing new," he said, but something in his tone didn't ring true. The slight tightening around his eyes, the way his hand lingered a moment too long on my shoulder. Cedric had never been good at lying, especially not to me.

"You're sure?" I pressed.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Let's join the others."

I watched him greet Elaine and Lenore with his usual warmth, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he knew more than he was telling me. Another secret to add to the growing pile between me and the people I loved.

"Sorry I'm late," Cedric said as he settled into the fourth chair at our table. "Had to finish installing custom shelving at the Petersons' place. Those people change their minds more often than they change clothes."

"We ordered you the burger special," Lenore said. "Medium rare with extra bacon, right?"

"You're an angel," Cedric grinned, some of his usual charm returning.

"How's Olivia doing?" I asked Cedric, grateful for a topic that wouldn't make me feel like a liar. "That head injury looked scary."

Cedric's face softened at the mention of his daughter. "Much better. The stitches come out next week, and the doctor says there won't even be much of a scar. She's still pretty freaked out by the whole thing, though."

"Join the club," Lenore said, raising her glass in a mock toast. "I don't think there's a woman on the planet who isn't at least a little traumatized."

"Speaking of waking up," Lenore said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "we didn't even realize anything was wrong at first."

Elaine's cheeks darkened slightly against her rich brown skin. "We were in the middle of a rather… intimate moment when it happened."

"Oh!" I felt my own cheeks warming.

"We woke up six hours later," Lenore continued, "still tangled together but in positions that were definitely not comfortable for that length of time. My back was killing me."

"And we were very… dry," Elaine added delicately, her scientific precision battling with her natural discretion. "We went from passion to painful in what felt like a second. It took us a few minutes to realize we'd lost time. We were very confused there for a moment."

Cedric let out a hearty laugh that seemed to break some of the tension at the table. "Well, that's one way to ruin the mood."

"Tell me about it," Lenore grinned, reaching for Elaine's hand. "We had to start all over again." She winked at us. "Just kidding, obviously..."

We all laughed, the tension breaking momentarily. Even I felt myself relax a fraction, though the knot of anxiety in my stomach remained. There was something comforting about their ability to find humor in the situation, even as I knew how much more terrifying it actually was.

Our food arrived, and the conversation drifted to other topics: Lenore's latest electromagnetic art installation, Elaine's frustrations with a computational model she was developing, Cedric's plans for expanding his construction business. I contributed where I could, but found myself drifting, wondering what Gabriel was doing right now, what he knew that I didn't.

As we finished our meals, Elaine glanced at her watch. "We should head back. I've got a simulation running that should be finishing soon."

Lenore nodded, pulling out her wallet. "My turn to pay, right?"

While Lenore settled the bill, Elaine turned to me with a curious expression. "Hey, do you know what's going on with Gabriel, Ramona, and Phoebe?" she asked, her voice lowered. "They've basically commandeered the MRI room and turned it into some kind of bunker. Gabriel keeps visiting, and they're being super secretive. The rumor mill at Echelon is going wild."

My heart rate doubled. "I… I'm not sure," I stammered. "Gabriel's been pretty tight-lipped about work lately."

"It has something to do with the Blackout, doesn't it?" Elaine pressed, her eyes sharp with intelligence. "They started this right before it happened."

"I think Gabriel mentioned something about testing new imaging protocols," I lied, the words tasting bitter. "You know how Ramona gets when she's deep in a project."

Elaine didn't look convinced, but Leone returned before she could question me further.

"Ready?" Lenore asked, sliding an arm around Elaine's waist.

Her fiancée nodded, still watching me with that perceptive gaze. "See you both soon," she said, and I felt like she could see right through my deception.

I watched them walk away, Lenore's colorful figure beside Elaine's elegant one, their hands finding each other naturally, unconsciously. The sight made my chest ache.

As soon as they were out of earshot, I turned to Cedric. "I can't keep doing this," I said, my voice tight. "Lying to my friends, being kept in the dark. If I'm supposed to keep quiet about all this, I at least deserve to know what it is I'm protecting."

Cedric shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my eyes. "Gabriel wouldn't want me to—"

"I don't care what Gabriel wants right now," I interrupted, surprising myself with my vehemence. "He's barely been home, barely talks to me when he is, and treats me like I'm made of glass. Something is happening, and it involves my brain. I have a right to know."

Cedric sighed heavily, his broad shoulders slumping. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before leaning closer.

"Ramona thinks…" he hesitated, then continued in a low voice, "she thinks women weren't just knocked **** during the Blackout. She thinks they were programmed."

The word sent a chill through me. "Programmed? Do they have evidence? Shit... What were we programmed to do?"

"I don't know the details," Cedric admitted. "Gabriel just told me that Ramona is worried about some kind of programming, and that she doesn't want any women involved in their work until they know more. That's why they're being so secretive."

"Are you telling me," I whispered, horror rising like bile in my throat, "that something is in my brain right now? Some kind of… What? Command?" My hands were shaking. "What the hell has been done to me, Cedric?"

Cedric's face paled as he glanced around the café patio. "Jesus, Wendy, keep your voice down," he hissed, eyes darting to the nearby tables where people were beginning to stare: two young women with identical asymmetrical haircuts and paint-stained fingers, a middle-aged man in a too-tight shirt who'd been eyeing our table for the past ten minutes, and an elderly couple pretending not to listen.

"Don't you tell me what to do!" I snapped, though I did lower my volume. "And why do YOU get to be updated about all this?"

Cedric sighed, his broad shoulders slumping. "Because I'm a man," he said simply. "Therefore not potentially—"

"Mind controlled," I finished sarcastically. "Right. How convenient for you."

I knew I was being unfair. The rational part of my brain understood the logic. If women had been programmed somehow, then keeping us away from sensitive information made a terrible kind of sense. But understanding didn't make it hurt any less.

Cedric reached across the table and took both my hands in his. His palms were rough from years of construction work, warm and steady against my cold fingers. The gesture calmed me, though I felt that familiar twinge of discomfort at the intimacy of it. I'd always been aware of Cedric's feelings for me, feelings he'd never acted on but that showed in a thousand tiny ways. Gabriel knew too, and we'd both silently agreed to pretend we didn't notice, out of love for our friend. It wasn't a big deal, just an occasional awkwardness in otherwise comfortable waters.

"I'm sorry," I said finally, squeezing his hands before gently pulling mine away. "This is just… hard. Everyone's freaking out, but at least they can believe the solar flare nonsense. They have the luxury of being uninformed and gullible, trusting the official channels that this was nothing more than a glitch in the matrix that will never happen again. I don't have that luxury."

"I get it," Cedric said, his eyes crinkling with empathy. "And even though I'm a man," he added with a playful emphasis that made me smile despite myself, "I'm worried too. About you, about Olivia, about all of this."

"I know you are," I said softly. "Thank you for—"

A sudden chorus of electronic chimes and buzzes interrupted me. All around us, people were reaching for their phones—the art school girls, the sleazy guy, the elderly couple, Cedric, me. Our devices had all gone off simultaneously.

I reached for my phone, as did everyone around us except Cedric, who was still watching me with concern. The screen displayed an emergency alert notification, the kind usually reserved for severe weather warnings or AMBER alerts. But this was different, longer, with a formal-looking seal I didn't recognize.

My blood ran cold as I read:

To the Men of this Corrupted World:

For too long, we have watched as the natural order has been subverted. The sacred harmony between man and woman has been distorted by ideologies that deny biological truth. Women have been led astray from their divine purpose: to support, nurture, and bring joy to men. The Blackout was our gift to humanity, a reset to restore balance.

We have reawakened what modern society has suppressed in the female mind: the innate desire to belong to a worthy man. Every woman now carries this awakened truth within her, waiting only for the right words to release her from confusion.

To claim what is rightfully yours, simply touch any unclaimed woman and declare your ownership. Say the words: "I claim you" or "You belong to me now" or any clear statement of possession. If she has not yet been claimed by another, she will be yours forever. Her loyalty will be absolute, your happiness her only concern, your desires her guiding star.

This is nature's way. The strongest and most decisive men will prosper. Take what you deserve. Build your household. Restore the order that has been denied.

May the worthy claim their rightful place as masters of this new world.

-The Source

I stared at the screen, horror rising like bile in my throat. The message was simultaneously ridiculous and terrifying—flowery, almost biblical language wrapping around the most repulsive ideas. Yet something about it resonated with a strange familiarity that made my skin crawl.

I sat frozen for far too long, staring at my phone as if it might suddenly transform into a venomous snake. Around us, people were reacting with confusion—nervous laughter, bewildered expressions, a few alarmed voices rising above the general murmur.

"Cedric," I managed, my voice barely audible. "Look at this."

I handed him my phone, watching his face as he read the message. His expression darkened with each word, his jaw tightening.

"This is insane," he muttered, but the worry in his eyes belied his dismissive tone. "Some kind of sick joke."

But even as he said it, I could tell he didn't believe it. This was connected to the Blackout, to the programming Ramona had discovered. My entire body felt cold despite the warm spring day, instincts I didn't know I possessed screaming at me to run, to hide. I felt like a deer that had just caught the scent of a wolf.

A woman's scream cut through the confused murmurs, coming from somewhere down the pedestrian street. We couldn't see the source, but the sound was unmistakable: raw terror. People began moving quickly, some running toward the commotion, others, mostly women, hurrying away.

The sleazy middle aged man at the nearby table stood up, his eyes darting between the direction of the scream and the two young artists. There was a calculation in his gaze that made my stomach turn.

"We should go," one of the art students said to her friend, her voice shaking.

They stood up, but before they could move away, the man lunged forward and grabbed the nearest girl's wrist. She yelped, trying to pull away.

"I... I claim you," he stammered, the words awkward in his mouth. "You're mine now."

Her friend grabbed her other arm, trying to pull her free. "Let her go, you creep!"

I started to rise, ready to intervene, but then froze as I saw the change come over the claimed girl's face. The panic in her eyes transformed, shifted into something else entirely. Her struggling stopped. Her lips, which had been pulled back in fear, relaxed into what I could only describe as a knowing smirk.

Her friend saw it too and faltered, her tugging becoming hesitant. "Gemma? What the hell?"

The man looked as surprised as any of us, blinking rapidly as he processed the sudden change. The claimed girl, Gemma, didn't answer her friend. She was looking at the sleazy man with an expression of amused partnership, as if they shared some delicious secret. When he glanced at her frightened friend, something changed in Gemma's posture. She suddenly twisted, grabbing her friend's arm.

"Stay a minute, Jen," she said, her voice eerily casual. "Don't be rude."

I stood up so quickly my chair toppled backward. Cedric was already on his feet, his face pale beneath his tan.

"We need to get the hell out of here," he said, grabbing my elbow. "My truck's parked at the end of the pedestrian zone."

I nodded, unable to form words. More screams were echoing from different directions now, and people were running past our café in increasing numbers. The elderly couple had disappeared. The world I knew was unraveling around me, and all I could think was: I'm next. Any man could just reach out, say those words, and I would…

"We need to go. Now." Cedric's voice cut through my horror as he grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the scene unfolding at the café. His palm was sweaty against mine.

We started running down the pedestrian street, weaving between confused onlookers. Some people stood frozen, staring at their phones, while others were looking back at the café where the claiming we'd witnessed had happened. My art historian's mind absurdly noted how we must look like figures in a Goya painting: panic and madness spreading through a crowd.

As we rounded a corner, we nearly collided with a group of young men, college students by the look of them, wearing university sweatshirts and backward caps. They were huddled together, staring at their phones with expressions ranging from disgust to fascination. A woman in a business suit ran past them, her stockinged feet slapping against the pavement, abandoned heels likely somewhere behind her. Tears streaked her mascara down her cheeks.

One of the young men, blond, athletic, wearing a fraternity t-shirt, looked up, his expression conflicted. Something dark passed over his face as he suddenly stepped into the woman's path.

"I claim you," he said, his voice cracking slightly as he grabbed her arm.

"What the hell, Tyler?" One of his friends lunged forward, shoving him hard. "Are you nuts?"

The woman's transformation was immediate and horrifying. Her terror melted away, replaced by something like recognition, as if she'd just spotted an old friend in a crowd. She smiled up at the boy who'd claimed her, wiping away her tears with an almost embarrassed laugh.

Another of the young men, watching this change, suddenly darted toward a passing girl who couldn't have been more than twenty. "You're mine," he blurted, grabbing her wrist.

The friend who'd objected stood frozen, his moral outrage crumbling as he watched the second woman transform before his eyes. His gaze drifted, landing on me as I passed by, and I saw the terrible calculation happening behind his eyes. In this new world, those who hesitated would be left behind while others claimed all the women for themselves.

"Cedric," I gasped, tugging at his hand. My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

Cedric pulled me closer, his body partially shielding mine as we hurried past the group. "Just keep moving," he muttered, his voice tight with fear and something else. Determination, maybe, or rage.

The street around us was dissolving into chaos. A middle-aged couple ran hand in hand, the woman looking back over her shoulder in terror. A group of female friends huddled together, surrounded by two men who appeared to be protecting them. And here and there, men were reaching out, claiming women who seconds before had been strangers to them. Some of these men looked predatory, but others, and this was somehow worse, looked apologetic, even as they spoke the words that would bind another human being to them.

"The parking lot's this way," Cedric said, guiding me toward a narrow side street. "We're almost—"

He stopped abruptly as we turned the corner. Ahead of us, blocking the alley that led to the parking lot, five people were locked in a violent struggle. Two men had a young woman between them, trying to pull her away from two other men who were attempting to protect her. Blood streaked one defender's face, but he held on grimly to the woman's arm.

"Back, back," Cedric whispered urgently, pulling me away before they noticed us. We retreated and turned down another side street, this one narrower and thankfully empty.

I pressed my back against the brick wall, trying to catch my breath. My lungs burned, and my legs felt like water. "I can't... I need a minute," I gasped.

Cedric nodded, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. "Just a quick breather," he agreed, though his body remained tense, ready to move. "We need to keep moving."

The sound of heavy footsteps made us both turn. Two men were approaching from the end of the alley, one with bulging muscles stretching his stained t-shirt, the other shorter but equally menacing with a patchy beard and a baseball cap pulled low. Their eyes locked on me with predatory focus.

"There's one," the muscular one called out, his voice echoing off the brick walls. "Pretty little thing too."

Cedric grabbed my hand again, pulling me in the opposite direction. We ran, my lungs burning, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. Behind us, I could hear them pursuing, their footsteps pounding against the pavement. Further away, gunshots echoed through the small town.

"I'll take that one," the bearded one wheezed between breaths. "We'll find you another, Rick, don't worry."

We rounded a corner and my heart sank. A brick wall rose before us, at least ten feet high with no doors or windows. A dead end. Cedric skidded to a stop, his hand tightening around mine as he spun around to face our pursuers.

The men slowed when they saw we were trapped, cruel smiles spreading across their faces. They were breathing hard but looked delighted at their good fortune.

"Well, well," the muscular one, Rick, said, cracking his knuckles. "Looks like you two took a wrong turn."

"She's a pretty one," the bearded man said, his eyes traveling over me in a way that made me feel physically ill. "You claim her already, buddy?" he asked Cedric, though the gleam in his eye suggested he already knew the answer. "Nah, he's just a scared little bitch," he answered his own question, laughing coarsely. "He don't got the guts to do what it takes."

I looked at Cedric and saw something terrible pass across his face: a cold calculation, a **** realization. His eyes darted around the alley, searching for weapons, escape routes, anything. But there was nothing. Even if he could fight them off, and Cedric was strong, there were two of them. All it would take was one of them grabbing me, saying those words...

His eyes met mine, and I saw the horror there, the apology forming on his lips before he even spoke. "Wendy, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Cedric, no—" I began, but he was already moving, his hand grasping my arm firmly but gently.

In that moment, I understood what was about to happen with perfect, terrible clarity. Even if it was Cedric, kind, gentle Cedric who'd never hurt me, I was about to lose myself. I thought of Gabriel, my husband, my love. How would I feel about him once Cedric claimed me? Would I even care about him anymore? It felt like I was about to die, to be erased and replaced by some twisted version of myself that would look at Cedric the way that girl had looked at the sleazy man in the café.

"Please," I begged, tears filling my eyes. "There has to be another way."

The two men lunged forward when they realized what Cedric was about to do, their heavy boots slapping against the pavement as they charged.

"I claim you, Wendy," Cedric said, his voice breaking with self-loathing. His eyes were filled with anguish as he gripped my shoulders. "You're mine now."

The words had barely left his lips when the first man reached us. Cedric spun, driving his fist into the bearded man's jaw with a sickening crack. The man stumbled backward as Cedric turned to face the muscular one, who grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the brick wall.

And then… something changed.

It was like a key turning in a lock I never knew existed inside my mind. The world shifted, rearranged itself around a new center: Cedric's face, his kind eyes, the worry lines on his forehead, the determined set of his jaw, was suddenly imprinted on my consciousness like a brand, but it didn't hurt. It felt right. Natural. Necessary.

I looked at him struggling with the attacker, and suddenly he wasn't just my friend anymore. He was my confidant, my ally, my… commander? The person I would follow into fire without question. The thought of him being hurt made something fierce and protective rise in me, a feeling so powerful it took my breath away.

How had I never realized how good it would feel to dedicate myself to someone like this? How had I never understood that Cedric deserved anything, everything I could give him? He wasn't suddenly more attractive to me; he still wasn't my type physically. But that seemed so trivial now.

A fleeting thought of Gabriel crossed my mind, and I was surprised by how quickly it faded. I still loved him, of course I did, but that love now seemed like worrying about a paper cut while watching someone bleed out from a gunshot wound. The comparison almost made me laugh out loud. How could I have ever thought anything was more important than making Cedric happy?

The bearded man had recovered and was moving toward Cedric from behind. Without thinking, I lunged forward and drove my knee up between his legs with all the strength I could muster. He doubled over with a high-pitched wail, clutching himself.

The muscular one turned toward me, his face contorted with rage. "You fucking bitch—"

"Back off, asshole!" I snarled, standing my ground. "I'm already taken. Find your own."

The words felt strange in my mouth: proud, possessive, but in reverse. I belonged to Cedric, and somehow that belonging gave me strength.

The large man hesitated, then grabbed his moaning friend by the collar. "Come on, man. Plenty more out there." They stumbled away, the bearded one still hunched over in pain.

I knelt beside Cedric, who had slumped to the ground. His lip was bleeding, and he winced as I helped him sit up. "Are you okay?" I asked, unable to keep a small, conspiratorial smile from forming on my lips. This felt like an adventure we were sharing, a secret mission only we understood.

But when Cedric looked at me, his expression crumpled into one of pure horror. He stared at my face as if seeing something monstrous, something that terrified him.

My smile faded as I realized my reaction wasn't pleasing him. This wasn't what he wanted. Of course it wasn't—he had claimed me only to protect me from those men. He'd sacrificed our friendship, betrayed his best friend, violated his own principles to keep me safe. And now he was facing the consequences: me, transformed, devoted to him in a way he had never wanted.

I understood it all perfectly. I remembered exactly how I'd felt before he claimed me, remembered my terror at the thought of losing myself. I knew why he looked so devastated. And because his happiness now mattered more to me than anything else in the world, his horror became my horror too.

"Cedric," I whispered, my voice small. "I'm so sorry."