by Andrew Gates
Ophelia lifted her head from Iris’s shoulders for a moment to think. Then she lowered it back down and let out a deep breath.
“Well…” she began, “my dad never knew this, but there is one thing...”
“Oh yeah? What was it?” Iris wondered.
“It wasn’t so much an it. More like a he,” she clarified.
“Oh, a boy.”
“Yeah,” Ophelia admitted. She felt strangely embarrassed. “His name was Cedric. He always made me smile.”
Iris turned to look at her in the dim light. Ophelia gazed into the flames as if lost in a dream.
“What made Cedric so special?”
“I never really liked boys,” Ophelia started. “Most of them just talked about sports. I didn’t like pretending to enjoy professional handball or light chasers. Cedric was the first boy I could hang out with and just act like me. I didn’t have to fake any conversations with him. I didn’t have to pretend to be interested in things with him. Actually, I didn’t feel that way about most girls either.”
“You felt like you had to be someone else all the time?”
“Yeah, around everyone except Cedric,” she answered. Ophelia sighed. “But I guess that’s middle school.”
Iris chuckled.
“That’s life,” she clarified.
“Anyway, Cedric lived nearby so we saw each other a lot. I started spending some time at his place. His parents were really nice to me. I think they knew I liked him.”
“Did Cedric know you liked him?”
“I think so,” Ophelia replied, “but we never really talked about it.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a relationship before. I didn’t really know what to do and I didn’t want to ask my dad for advice.”
“I understand.”
“Also, I think I was just scared that he wouldn’t like me back,” she said. “It kind of stressed me out.”
“How old are you?”
“12,” Ophelia answered.
Iris chuckled again and smiled. She turned to face the fire once more.
“You kids are all looking for love, just like us adults,” she said. “When I was your age, boys were the last thing on my mind.”
“Well didn’t you and my dad hang out?”
“Yes, but we were never… you know… interested in each other.”
“Did he know that?”
Iris paused for a moment. This was the second time Ophelia had brought up Trace’s feelings for her. She still had no idea of knowing whether or not this theory was true, but she supposed it did not really matter anymore.
“I… I don’t know,” was all she said back.
“Do you want to change the subject again?” Ophelia asked.
Iris grinned. This girl was catching on.
“Yes,” Iris replied with a smile on her face, “that would be great.”
Time passed.
The two of them talked for what seemed like forever. As they spoke, the hall grew darker and darker around them. The fire slowly faded away until it was nothing but faint orange among smoking embers. Before they knew it, the hall was practically black again.
Iris was distracted anyway. She and Ophelia spoke the entire time, practically never stopping to take a breath. She hoped they had not woken any of the others.
Suddenly the hall lit up like a glowing sun. Iris closed her eyes and lifted her hands before her face, trying to block out as much as she could. But even with her eyes shut and shielded, her vision was still overcome with light.
Kaitlyn and Misha awoke immediately and started screaming.
“Calm down!” Greyson hollered. “Calm down!”
Iris felt her heart pounding. She slowly opened her eyes, letting her vision adjust. The world around her was blinding at first. But after a few seconds, she made out the hall in perfect detail.
She knew it was dusty, but seeing it illuminated reminded her of the old haunted houses of surface era ghost stories. It was absolutely disgusting. She never would have leaned against the wall if she knew it had looked like this.
The lights, she finally realized, putting everything together. That’s why I can see. The lights are on!
Iris smiled and stood up. She looked to the others. The youngest girls were still screaming in fear. Greyson tried desperately to calm them down.
“It’s okay. It’s just the lights!” Iris said. “They did it! They found the generator!”
For once, something seemed to be working as planned. For once, there was a ray of light in a world of darkness.
The sound of hard boots reverberated against the grimy hallway walls. Iris let out a sigh of relief and turned to face the noise. Her stomach rattled. Her bladder felt full.
It had been almost an hour since the lights came on and yet there was no sign of the others. Iris was getting concerned, as were Greyson and Ophelia.
Dan and the kids suddenly came into view, rounding one of the building’s five corners. Iris had not seen them in full light in a long time. By the way they moved, they looked tired. Dan’s strange torch was still lit. He carried it in his left hand.
Iris excitedly got up and started off in their direction, but she did not get too far before feeling a painful cramp in her stomach. She stopped in her tracks and leaned over, pressing on her belly. Dan saw her pain and jumped into action. He ran towards her and held her up with his free hand.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Iris nodded her head and slowly stood back up. Dan let go of her and took a few steps away.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just got a little too excited,” she said. She faced him. “Where were you? Once you got the lights on, I thought you’d come right back. It feels like it’s been… over an hour!”
“Yes,” Dan said, acknowledging her disappointment. “I know.” He looked into her eyes. “But we found something.”
“The backup generator, I know,” Iris said.
“No,” Dan replied with the shake of his head. “Something else.”
“What?”
“You said this used to be a military fortress, right?”
Iris nodded.
“Yeah, it was the main office for all branches of military. It was one of the most secure buildings in the pre-Descent world.”
“Well apparently it was more than just an office,” Dan explained. Iris was curious to know what he was getting at. The man turned around to face the kids and then turned back again. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Iris, this was a missile launch site.”
“Missiles?” Iris expected some type of secret defensive measures here, but not missiles.
Dan nodded in confirmation.
“Powerful ones. We found them hidden away in the basement of the structure,” he said.
“What kind of missiles?”
“Maelstrom neutron missiles,” Dan replied. His tone was serious. “Nuclear.”
SANJA SCRUBBED THE MOLDY SHOWER with her sponge. The dirt came off easily, but that did not make the job any less demeaning. She squeezed the extra soap out and stood up.
Finally done, she thought to herself with a grunt. It felt like she’d been cleaning all day.
The former forensic investigator, Navy contractor and member of the Security Council dropped her wet sponge into the bucket and carried it over to the closet full of extra janitorial equipment. She threw everything inside and closed the closet door as fast as she could, not wanting to spend another second looking at goddamn cleaning supplies.
Sanja wiped her face and closed her eyes for a moment. Despite the monotony that had plagued her life over the last few days, there had been a few interesting points that she found hard to ignore.
After the brief radio conversation with the surface survivors, Ortega decided to assemble a special team of geologists to study the soil around the FCP. Their goal was to determine if the composition of the soil outside matched the soil composition from pre-Descent studies conducted in the same region.
/> Dr. Gosling was put in charge of this team, despite Sanja’s pleadings. For some reason, Sandra Walter was not all too eager to hand such an important assignment over to Sanja.
When all was finished, Dr. Gosling’s team of geologists found a significant difference between the two samples, so much so, that there was only one logical conclusion: assuming the surface era tests were accurate, the Atlantic Station had been underwater for far longer than 200 years.
“Thousands, maybe tens of thousands,” said Dr. Gosling in his final report.
Sanja could hardly believe it. Now with hard evidence, it seemed the treacherous Iris Vitneskja was right all along. The former investigator opened her eyes again and let out a deep sigh. Part of her wanted to prove the foolish teacher wrong.
With her daily tasks out of the way, Sanja walked out of the bathroom and into the main corridor. Odorous people pushed past one another in the crammed hallway. Bumping shoulders with everyone she passed, Sanja felt almost trapped in the mob. But she only had to endure the crowd for a few moments before reaching the mess hall.
In the old days, grey paint would have signified a school. But colors no longer mattered in the afterlife. Instead, this room was basically a dilapidated cafeteria. The wide grey room smelled of old slop and processed food. The scent almost made her gag.
People crowded around the available tables, some laughing, some talking, some quietly eating on their own. Sanja preferred the latter.
She turned to face the menu posted on the wall. Each day was different, but that simply meant another form of inedible slop. As she turned, she saw someone she did not expect to see.
The young man looked different than she remembered. A thin beard dotted his face. His hair was longer and came down past his ears. His upper body seemed more toned. She could practically make out the muscles from here. Like most down in the FCP, his clothes were dirty and worn. His white shirt was so stained it practically looked brown and his dark green pants were so ripped, Sanja could see his pale skin through the holes.
“Well, well, well, Zoran Knocks!” Sanja said with a warm smile on her face. She had to appear hospitable after all.
Zoran turned around, trying to find the source of the greeting. When he finally saw Sanja, his expression grew worrisome. It was as if she were the last person he wanted to find.
“Dr. Parnel!” he said back, faking his excitement. Zoran stepped out of the food line, allowing some others behind him to take his place.
“It’s been over a month and I’ve hardly seen you,” Sanja said, greeting him. “How could that be?”
Zoran shrugged.
“I’ve been busy. Not a lot of time to myself,” he explained. He studied her attire and raised a curious eyebrow. “You look… different.”
Sanja had nearly forgotten how she dressed today. She wore loose brown pants and a ratty black shirt. It made her look horribly unprofessional, but there was no sense getting her nice clothes dirty as she cleaned the bunker from top to bottom.
“Oh, yes. I forgot I was even wearing this,” she replied, embarrassed. “You look different yourself,” she said, addressing his upper body. She reached out and touched his chest. She felt his firm muscles beneath the shirt. Damn, he’s actually quite attractive now, she realized. I never thought I’d see the day.
Zoran shifted away from her as if burned by her touch.
“Uh… yeah, I’ve been assigned to moving duty. I basically have the job of a loader now. I carry boxes and supplies from one side of the bunker to another.”
“Men replacing machines,” Sanja said in a joking tone. “Well, moving those boxes has left quite an impression on you, it seems.”
“I’m in good shape now, yes,” Zoran agreed. “But it’s a busy job. I’m working all the time and I have to use the access tunnels a lot to get around. It’s faster than going through the public zones. That’s probably why you haven’t seen much of me. Honestly, I could use a break.”
“Why don’t you work for me again?” Sanja asked. “I could use some help.”
“It’s not that simple. I can’t just take a new job. That’s not the way the world works anymore.”
“Oh, don’t be so unrealistic. There are no rules anymore. We have interracial couples fucking in the common rooms, kids put to work full-time, hell the shit they’re feeding us shouldn’t even be legal!” she exclaimed as she motioned to the menu. “You can do whatever you want here. This is the afterlife.”
“Then why are you still cleaning toilets?” Zoran asked.
That was low.
“Because Ortega has it out for me,” she replied.
“No,” Zoran said, wasting no time to challenge her. “It’s not you. This isn’t about you. You really don’t get it, do you? Ortega has to pick and choose what he’s enforcing now. Certain things are more important than others. Interracial couples, for example. Nobody gives a shit about that anymore. But making sure everyone does what they’re assigned, now that’s important.”
“Whatever,” Sanja said, throwing her hands in the air. “Do you want to help me or not?”
“Don’t you already have a muscular grunt waiting to do whatever you ask?”
“I do, but he’s dumb as a rock. You may be young, but at least you have a brain,” Sanja said.
“Well that makes me feel good,” Zoran sarcastically replied. “What is it you want me to do?”
“I need to get back into the inner-circle. I need to find a way to reclaim the power I’ve lost,” she explained. “Walter won’t let me anywhere near the commanders. But she’s not on the lookout for you.”
Zoran shook his head.
“You must be desperate if you’re coming back to me for help,” he said.
“Don’t test me. Remember that you wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for me,” she spat.
Zoran raised his hands and took two steps away.
“Look at the fuse on you! No need to be hostile,” he explained.
Sanja slowly bobbed her head and took a deep breath. She did not mean to come out so strongly like that.
“I’m assuming you already went to Baltir for help?” Zoran asked.
Sanja nodded.
“Of course. But he has it out for me too.”
“What about your friends in high places?”
“I’ve been cut off from Commander Grey. Walter won’t let me near him or any of the Security Council.”
“And Andre White?”
“Too busy. Ever since his promotion, he doesn’t have the time to see anyone. And I can’t arrange a meeting with him through Linda because she’s part of the Council.”
“Looks like you’ve been trying.”
Sanja sighed.
“I have.”
Zoran nodded his head and shrugged.
“Look, I say this with the utmost respect, I enjoyed working with you back in the old world and I’m thankful for what you did to get me down here, but honestly, I don’t think I can be of much use to you here,” the man explained. He raised his arms as if to suggest he had no options. “That’s just the truth.”
Sanja expected this type of response from Baltir, but not Zoran. Zoran was supposed to be naive and easy to manipulate. Back in the station, the young man would have been begging for his job back on hands and knees. Now he was acting like a king. What the hell has this place done to you, Zoran?
“I see,” was all she said in return. She eyed him up one last time, taking in his impressive figure.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” someone announced in the center of the mess hall. Sanja quickly turned to face the speaker. “It is time for the daily announcements!”
“Is it time already?” Zoran asked. He seemed glad to have an excuse to change the subject.
Sanja sighed. She would allow him to drop the conversation for now.
Each day, Ortega’s press secretary gave a public statement to the FCP, updating the public on current events and decisions in the CEO or Security Council. These statements were always ma
de at exactly 15:00 and later transmitted over the FCP’s loudspeakers for all to hear a half-hour later.
Press Secretary Donovan Gomez stood before the crowd in his clean suit. It was refreshing to see someone dressed professionally among the mob of ratty brown clothes that surrounded him. His grey hair and beard stood out against his dark skin. A Navy guard stood on each side of him, poised and straight like lifeless shells.
“The first order of business today,” he began, bellowing loudly for all to hear. “The Security Council has managed to reestablish contact with the surface survivors.”
Reestablish contact? The surface survivors lasted all of two days before they went silent. Everyone in the FCP simply assumed that they had died. Sanja was almost happy when she learned that Iris and the daughter of Tracey Saljov were believed dead.
“Allegedly the surface survivors came under attack by an unknown humanoid force shortly after our last transmission. They were forced to separate from their radio equipment and have been without it for several days. Reports from the surface survivors indicate multiple casualties including Navy units Felix Mannan, Rina Rassi and Garren Cruz. Additionally, Tobias Everett, Sixtine Boudreaux and Lieutenant Ryan Stone are all considered missing. There are no leads as to their whereabouts. We can confirm that the other nine remaining survivors are all still alive and well.”
Dammit.
“Who attacked them?” someone shouted from the crowd.
The press secretary placed his right hand in the air, as if trying to silence the questioning.
“Please, I will answer questions at the end,” he explained. He cleared his throat and continued. “The survivors are currently residing in an ancient surface military fortress known as the Pentagon. They managed to access a backup power generator inside the fortress and were able to transmit messages to us through an old computer network called the internet, an early precursor to the Meganet. Fiber optic cables at the bottom of the ocean have been able to connect us to the Pentagon for thousands of years, though we’ve had no use for this connection until now. ”
“How long will they have power?” someone shouted.
“What happens when the internet stops working?” someone else added.