Ronin

by Tony Bertauski

  “No!” Ryder scrambled toward him.

  The wires were flexible and unbreakable. The netting shrank. Ryder felt it collapse around Ronin’s body, felt the constraints. Double vision threw him off balance—Ronin’s vision overlapping his own. He lost track of his body and that of the trapped animal.

  This is the dream.

  He climbed into the tangle, pulling at the lines. The weight of the metallic netting dropped Ronin on his knees. Hot breath streamed in clouds. Ryder came face-to-face with the giant beast, their eyes meeting, vision flipping back and forth.

  Seeing himself. Seeing Ronin.

  “I’m sorry...” Ryder said. “Please get up. Please.”

  Ronin snorted, eyes widening. Despite the countless constraints, he pushed onto all four legs. Ryder’s foot was caught in a loop as Ronin lowered his head and charged. The lines stretched to their limits. They sliced the air as they snapped. Little by little, Ronin bulled his way forward, breaking them one by one, dragging the net.

  A man watched from the shadows.

  If Ronin could get into the trees, he could use their trunks as leverage and drag the net free on the branches.

  Ryder reached through the netting as another line snapped. He tugged at his laces and yanked his foot out of the boot that kept him tangled just as Ronin threw his head forward. Ryder fell backwards.

  A roar was in his bones as he tumbled into darkness.

  16

  The reindeer are no longer calves.

  It’s the last day of the year. The celebration would continue into the New Year. But this year was different from all the previous year ends. There are snowball fights and dancing and youngsters polar-bearing in the open leads.

  Elven gather around the herd.

  The antlers clatter as they dip their heads. The handlers feed them a blend that will burn the helium bladders faster and hotter. Off to the side and away from the herd, Gallivanter stands beneath the largest of them all.

  The last reindeer.

  Ronin’s growth spurt shocked the breeders. It happened over the course of a decade, a relatively short period of time. The top of Gallivanter’s head barely brushes Ronin’s knee as he holds out his hand. Ronin curls his tongue around the green cube and grinds it between his molars.

  Gallivanter ignores the younger elven throwing up their grabbers—globes hovering to take photos. Neither of them look happy or sad. Intense, the youngsters call them. His green coat spreads behind him. The rest of the handlers, in a show of celebration, display red colors.

  “Gather!” Jocah raises her hand. “Gather one and all!”

  A single snow-white braid dangles from her head like a rope. There are only a few elven with more years than Gallivanter, but none more than Jocah.

  The colony leader announces the first ever end-of-year reindeer games. The ice shudders beneath stamping feet. The crowd parts. A runway stretches across the ice. The handlers give their reindeer encouragement.

  “Dasher?” Jocah asks. “Will you do the honors?”

  The buck throws back his head and snorts. The elven throw snowballs like confetti as he separates from the herd. With ample space, he backs up several paces, shaking his head vigorously. A deep breath expands his belly. The helium bladder gurgles as his metabolism picks up.

  Dasher gallops as his belly inflates. The strides grow longer and lighter. He throws his front legs out.

  And soars.

  Extra hide billows at the base of each leg to sail on an updraft. The elven celebration reaches a manic pitch as he lands deep down the runway. The herders dial their binoculars to measure the distance. The reindeer rear back to celebrate with kicking hooves.

  The games are under way.

  One by one, they stretch their bellies and inflate their bladders before launching themselves farther and farther. Each of them is mauled by excited elven. The herders struggle to record the exact distance. Cupid is winning by a nose.

  It’s Vixen’s turn.

  She’s the smallest of the herd. Her antlers are slim with fewer points. No matter how much they feed her, she maintains a gazelle-like figure. Light on her feet, she draws her breath deep and long.

  “Vix-en. Vix-en. Vix-en,” the elven chant.

  The others had launched like zooming balloons. She shoots like a rocket and glides deep into the night.

  They stamp into the runway and lose sight of her. The herders shout for them to clear away, but she’s gone far beyond the runway. No one sees her land.

  Not even a puff of snow.

  A rumble of confusion ripples through the colony. She’s leaped so far that they can’t even measure the jump. They don’t know whether to cheer or search.

  “Polar!”

  The call comes from one of the herders. He’s pointing a finger, but no one sees the big white predator. No proximity warning had sounded to send them below the ice. A polar bear is not a friend of the elven. Panic powers the confusion, and elven begin jumping in holes.

  Gallivanter grabs the binoculars.

  Ronin stretches his neck. Eyes wide, the biggest reindeer of them all has spotted the white-furred beast racing on all fours.

  Vixen tries to stand.

  Ronin takes three steps. The herd gets out of his way as his belly boils like a sizzling furnace. He throws out his front legs and disappears into the night. There are no cheers like there were for the others. The game is over. As the polar bear closes in on Vixen, it becomes real life.

  He lands on four thundering hooves and rolls in a tumbling cloud of snow. The polar bear hesitates but continues the charge. She is hungry and she has cubs to feed. Ronin climbs to his full height and romps in front of Vixen.

  His howl brings chills to the elven.

  When Gallivanter arrives with a rescue squad, the polar bear is gone. Snow has been pushed aside. Ronin lies on his side with his tongue out and long slashes across his shoulder. Blood pools near his belly. More trails away.

  They set up a perimeter with wave emitters and heat beams. Vixen has broken two legs and damaged her ribs from the jump. Gallivanter cradles Ronin’s snout. Foam gathers in his nostrils. His nose is red hot.

  “My boy,” Gallivanter says. “My boy.”

  ***

  Ryder was staring at a ceiling, not a bunk.

  The bed was twice as wide as any bed he’d ever slept in, one he could lay on in any direction and not have his feet hang over the side. It was in the middle of the room. The sheets were silk. His head, cradled in a plush pillow, throbbed.

  Someone was talking.

  There was a desk and a laptop and a wide window with thick wooden slats. Thin strips of daylight lined the carpet. A conversation was taking place.

  “It was cold,” John said.

  “No,” Jane countered, “it was freezing.”

  “BG said it’s not freezing till it’s below zero.”

  “Then he flunked science.”

  They shared a laugh. They were talking about the bitter cold and numb lips, snow packed inside his boots—

  “Ronin,” he muttered.

  He fell back onto the pillow, his brain splitting in two. He came to my rescue.

  “I’m not saying I’m happy we came back early,” Jane said. “I’m just saying someone got hurt. I’m not going to say whooooo...”

  The stream showed a line of hikers scaling a rocky path. The next scene showed a close-up of Ryder. His eyes were closed and the nicies looked worried.

  “He’s fine,” Jane said. “Just a misstep, that’s all.”

  “It was good practice,” John said. “If that happens on the Pole, we’ll know what to do.”

  “We’ll come home?”

  Another laugh shared. No mention of a struggle or a three-thousand-pound reindeer tangled in a steel net. No shots fired. A red line cut across Ryder’s palm, the wound fresh where the reinforced netting had struck him.

  He crawled to the edge of the bed. His feet barely touched the floor. He pried one of the blinds apart. It was
early. The horseshoe was empty and the windows on the other wing were closed. The building was facing the wrong way. He slammed the laptop shut.

  Where’s Bradley Cooper?

  This couldn’t be happening. He fell back on the bed, the room going into another slow spin. He was dreaming of reindeer and elven, and now there was one on the mountain.

  What did they do to him?

  The door opened. BG closed it behind him and observed Ryder for a moment. Figgy was at his side, her toenails clicking the floor. BG was cleaned up, his bushy red hair combed back and the beard groomed. His green eyes peered down from beneath thick eyebrows. He opened the blinds and stared out the window.

  “It appears you have a friend,” he said. “A very big one.”

  Friend?

  “Yes, this is real,” BG said. “You share a connection with a very special animal—a kind of reindeer unknown to the animal kingdom as we know it. Genetically engineered, a species of its own. The last of its kind.”

  “That’s why you brought me here.”

  All the accidents that had happened in his life weren’t accidents. They were always shrouded in mystery, memories he couldn’t quite recall. Every time he was threatened or in trouble, something bailed him out. David had found out.

  Trouble follows you, someone had told him. Maybe something else was following him.

  “Kraig.” Ryder chuckled drily. “He did that on purpose.”

  They’d pulled his memories from the introspection; they knew his dreams, unlocked his memories. BG knew what would happen when Kraig threatened him.

  BG wedged his hands on his hips. “Do you know the story of your beginning?”

  Ryder had been abandoned in a moving truck and found by a cop on Christmas Eve. That was all anyone ever told him.

  “How did the officer know you were there?” BG asked.

  Ryder had never asked that question. It was a Christmas miracle he had survived.

  “An anonymous call was placed that evening,” BG said. “No one ever knew who made it or how they knew you were there. They assumed it was the person who put you there. The report stated it was a man with a very deep voice. It didn’t say it was a very fat man.”

  Ryder looked up. The room was suddenly small and confining. He believed Santa Claus was real. Now he was saying he was the one who called the police. But Ryder had just witnessed a reindeer come to his rescue, had seen through his eyes, had felt his belly inflate and his attempt to fly.

  Ryder shook his head.

  “It’s my business to know, son. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. Ronin likes you.”

  “How do you know—”

  “His name?” He smiled. It’s my business. “He doesn’t just like you, does he? You dream about him. You always have. You see and feel him. The night you were discovered in the back of the truck, there was a connection between you and the last reindeer.”

  I can’t feel him anymore.

  There was an emptiness in his mind, a gap that he hadn’t felt before, like a missing tooth. “What’d you do to him?”

  “I wouldn’t think of hurting him.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I’m curious. And it’s time the world knew the truth. I’ll start with the reindeer, then find the fat man.”

  The air was suddenly hot and thin. Ryder couldn’t breathe fast enough.

  “Reality is what we believe. We see what we want to see, Ryder, but the truth is out there. We owe it to ourselves and each other to find it, to share it. Seeking truth... that’s our purpose, Ryder.”

  “The truth? You sent Kraig after me. You’re using me, you’re using all of us. This whole place is a lie.”

  “Where were you before this?” BG blocked Ryder’s pacing. “Who cared for you?”

  “You don’t care about us.”

  “I’m giving you the greatest gift of all.” A smile broadened inside the thick beard. “The reindeer chose to protect you, Ryder. He chose you.”

  “I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

  “We don’t ask to be born, don’t ask to be who we are. You’re too young to understand.” He put a firm hand on Ryder’s shoulder. “But soon, you’ll understand everything.”

  For a moment, he looked like he was going to hug him. Ryder jerked away. There were no drones in the room. This wasn’t for streaming.

  “I’m not staying here.” Ryder waved at the room. “I’m not one of them.”

  BG tousled his hair before opening the door. That fake smell hiding under his cologne—the smell all nicies had—was going to be in Ryder’s hair, in his clothes.

  “You’ve always been nice,” BG said.

  ***

  Conversation died on the naughty wing. Heads popped out of rooms as Ryder walked past them. A few people asked how he was doing and what happened.

  You didn’t hear? We caught a magic reindeer. Turns out Santa is real.

  The room was tidy. Ryder’s bed was still made. So was Soup’s bed. Arf was folding laundry and dropped a shirt when he saw him. He actually hugged him. It was like hugging a grizzly.

  “Where’s Soup?” Ryder asked.

  “Not back yet.”

  “From where?”

  Arf stared at the floor then put clothes in a drawer. He didn’t have to say it. Ryder pushed his hair back. He went. He actually went to introspection.

  “He didn’t come back?”

  Arf shook his head. “None of them have.”

  “What’d you mean?” Ryder’s session had only taken an hour. “How many?”

  Arf shrugged. He sat on his bed, shoulders slouched, head hung like a lost puppy. “You all right?” he asked.

  He’d seen the stream. Ryder explained he’d slipped on some ice and hit his head. Funny thing was he couldn’t explain how he woke up the next morning. That meant they’d carried him down from the mountain and put him in bed and he slept through the night. And none of the nicies acted like that was odd. It was like someone flipped a switch and put him to sleep. He woke up with a little headache and that was it. How was he going to explain that?

  “They emptied out your drawers,” Arf said, “while you were gone.”

  Ryder’s laptop was in the other wing. He didn’t bother checking his clothes. He sat on his bed and slid his hand under the pillow. A chill filled his legs.

  The phone is gone.

  “I heard the rooms are bigger,” Arf said.

  “It stinks over there.”

  “Yeah.” Arf weaved his fingers into a pretzel. “We’re all going over there. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “We don’t have to, Arf.”

  Arf just shrugged. But he was right. BG wanted to turn them all nice. That was why they were at Kringletown. To make good girls and boys.

  So why aren’t I nice?

  Despite what BG said, Ryder wasn’t one of them. He could dangle all the desserts he wanted, Ryder wasn’t going for it. He didn’t feel any different now, even after the mountain or waking up in the nicy wing. He was exactly the same. But BG didn’t say he was going to be nice or had turned nice.

  You’ve always been nice.

  ***

  There was a list on the board.

  A date and time was assigned to each name. Arf was set to go in two days. Everyone would be done before Christmas, and then they would launch for the Pole.

  Cherry’s name was at the bottom.

  He tapped on her door. She yanked it open and looked down the hall. Several naughties were watching. Bradley Cooper hovered next to her drone.

  There was only so much they could say.

  “Surprised they let you out,” she said.

  He was, too. When BG had left his room, he had expected him to lock it, but no one stopped him from leaving.

  “You still you?” she asked.

  “I’m not one of them.”

  She crossed her arms. “Did you find Santa?”

  If Ryder told her what really happened on the mou
ntain, it wouldn’t make the stream. And BG didn’t tell him not to tell anyone.

  “You wouldn’t believe what happened.”

  He started laughing. At first, it was sarcastic and angry, but it evolved into a genuine belly laugh. How could any of this be real? It was so absurd all he could do was laugh. I have a reindeer who can fly. He was constantly looking at his hands, like that would tell him if he was dreaming or not. Still, he told her what really happened on the mountain.

  Almost.

  He told her about Kraig, how he’d wandered off to find a place to pitch his tent. It was the same as the football game, only there was no one around to stop him this time.

  “I figured it was something like that,” she said. “This morning’s stream didn’t make sense.”

  “Yeah, well...”

  She frowned. “Something else?”

  He juggled the facts and lies. She wasn’t going to believe it no matter what order he put them in.

  “Yeah,” he said. “This giant reindeer got between us.”

  “A deer?”

  “No, a reindeer. And, uh, they used a special net to drag it down. I sort of got caught in the middle.”

  She waited. “And?”

  “We came back after that. I think.”

  “You think?”

  He explained how he hit his head and woke up the next morning, that he didn’t remember anything beyond that.

  “You were knocked unconscious?”

  He shrugged. That part didn’t make sense, either. This wasn’t the movies where someone took a hit and woke up at a convenient time later. He did hit his head; the evidence was still tender. It was like he went to sleep on command.

  “What’d they do with the deer?”

  “Reindeer.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  She heard him loud and clear. The guilt weighed on his words. He didn’t want to talk about it. Wanted to forget it.

  “Things are getting weird, even for this place,” she said. “No one is coming back from introspection.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “You think I have a choice?”

  Ryder couldn’t imagine them dragging her down the hall, but somehow they’d manage it. Everyone else had gone. Even Soup.

  “What’s going on?” he whispered.