Iris

by Nick Whitesides

  Using the palms of my hands, I rub the sides of my head vigorously to relieve some of the tension. I might as well start the process of elimination beginning with the training area. Still holding the gun I took from Trenton, I grasp it tightly in my hand as I take off.

  At this point I’ve given up any hope of being pardoned. I need to accept the fact that I may have to kill in order to stay alive. But first, Leina. I fly by the locker room and into the gym half-expecting to see hordes of SIO’s waiting for me, but everything’s vacant.

  In frustration, I scream and kick down a nearby punching dummy. At the other end of the gym I hear a voice shouting from behind. I plant my feet and stand up straight as an SIO approaches.

  “Everyone is on lockdown! Explain to me why you are out of placement and you’d better hope it’s a good reason.” He must not realize that it’s me they’re looking for.

  Adrenaline courses through my veins as my heart starts pounding like a hammer. It dawns on me with each tantalizing step, I won’t be able to catch up to Brutus. Just a few feet away now, I’m out of choices. I feel his hand press against my shoulder and I react.

  I grab it and twist his arm around with great force; pulling him into a submissive hold. My former SIO comrade cries out. He’s unable to free himself as I apply a choke hold and squeeze. He kicks and punches and squirms until finally succumbing to my brawn.

  As his body goes limp, I throw it down; a loud thud resonates throughout the room. Then, a roaring siren blares out from all sides. I cover my ears but nothing impedes the unrelenting sharpness of its cry.

  I crouch down by the unconscious body, noticing his bright red BAND screen. He activated the alert! Within seconds this whole place will be locked down and I will be trapped inside. I have to go now!

  I dash through the gym towards the main entrance of the Triad. The longer the high pitched noise rings the weaker I seem to get. After navigating the labyrinthine halls, I reach the giant atrium, still covering my ears. Only now the room is packed with people.

  Atlases of every kind all piled up shoulder to shoulder. Each one covering their ears as well. This could work in my favor. Between the alarm and the number of people, I could slip out the front door without anyone noticing.

  I push my way through, keeping my head down. They’re too distracted by the pain to realize who’s walking away from them. Don’t draw any attention to yourself, Krys.

  The searing pain grows more intense the closer I get and jamming my fingers in deeper does nothing to soothe my pounding skull. I reach the main doors fidgeting the handle. I pull hard but it doesn’t give way.

  I try again using whatever remains of my strength, this only makes me lightheaded and nauseated. One by one, the IRIS officials in the room begin falling down unconscious. What’s happening? Then, a previous SIO lesson bursts into my memory.

  Experiments with sonic frequencies were used to inflict pain or paralysis to the subject. Never before in the history of Pura has there been a breach of security. These sirens must be a long forgotten precaution.

  A warm liquid runs out of my ear canals as I stagger backwards a few feet. With limited strength, I point my gun at the glass door and fire. Small cracks appear with each shot, but it’s not enough to break through. I empty the magazine then toss it at the door and cover my other ear, though it still has no effect.

  Maybe I can finish it myself. So I pound my shoulders into the weakened glass. It’s no use. Everything around me darkens as my tenacity dissolves; leaving me useless.

  Stumbling over the other fallen bodies, gravity drags me downwards. The world is swirling around. It fades in and out, distorting the room as my will surrenders involuntarily. Looking up without focus, just before oblivion takes me, a plushy material is jammed into my ears.

  Instantly, my pain is alleviated. I tilt my head forward to see Jathom fire multiple bullets at the same glass door then, with a powerful kick, shatter it completely. He picks me up, putting my arm over his shoulder.

  Each step we take serves to clarify my mind. Crossing through the fragmented glass frame, the full chaos of the city is manifested. Hundreds of dependents running in all directions, nearly trampling over each other to get away from the alarm.

  Jathom’s auto is parked just below us at the bottom of the stairs. He leads us forward, nearly dragging me as we avoid the panicked city-goers. As we enter the vehicle, he pulls the plugs from my ears.

  I can still hear the siren but its effects have mostly worn off. “I’m glad that I found you before they did,” he says frantically. I wipe some of the blood from my face and exhale.

  “What happened to me?”

  He puts the car in gear and speeds off, swerving back and forth to avoid the fleeing pedestrians. “Insula-waves. They emit a specific frequency that disrupts the brain’s central nervous system, disabling sensory and motor functions.” He drives south towards his own apartment.

  “What were those things you put in my ears? And what happened to my BAND?” I ask, lifting up my left arm. He glances at it a few times trying not to deviate from his focus on the road. “I’ve never heard of anything like this before, Krys. When you missed check-in I got worried, then your arrest warrant went out so quickly and I. . .”

  The sentiment in his voice forces him to take pause. “We have to get you out of the city.” He says, having suddenly regained his composure. A vision of my life-giver’s broken body laying on the desert floor momentarily flashes before my eyes.

  “There’s no way out of the city, Jathom. The Sphere is impenetrable and the desert goes on for days. It’s impossible.” He reaches into the pocket of his Atlas-issued jacket and hands me an electronic pad.

  “That’s not completely true.” Hesitantly, I take it; examining the contents. The first thing that catches my eye is my life-giver’s name. I swipe my fingers across the screen. Random lines and phrases stick out to me, yet I’m still too hazy to fully process it.

  Sensing my disorientation, Jathom clears his throat saying, “Before your birth, Kalen served as one of the twenty four members of the Council of Pura. After your birth-giver died, he stepped down; asking to be placed into an alternative career. The Council reluctantly granted his request and allowed him to raise you as a granger.”

  The fog in my brain is compounded with disbelief. My life-giver was a Council member? Why would he change careers? What does my birth-giver have to do with this? What does this have to do with my BAND?

  Still buried in an avalanche of questions, I power down the pad and say bitterly “It doesn’t matter what he used to do because he’s dead now.”

  Jathom jerks the wheel and brings the automobile to a screeching halt; the smell of burnt tires and exhaust fumes overrun my sinuses. He turns to me with a sharp rebuke, “Kalen was the most kind and genuine person I have ever had the honor of knowing and I won’t start this car again until you apologize for your ungrateful attitude.”

  “The entire city is after me, we don’t have time for this!” I retort.

  “Say it.” His tone is unusually serious.

  I look him straight in the eye, sensing the shift in authority, and humbly mumble, “I’m sorry. . .”

  Satisfied, he pings his BAND at the center console; powering it back up with a low hum and we speed off again. “We’re about five minutes away. Everything you need to know is in that pad. Your life-giver was working on a special project that was meant to reinforce the outer structure of the Sphere. The Council saw Kalen as an indispensable asset and asked him to ‘Strongly reconsider’. He refused. You were more important to him than all of Pura.”

  Shame bleeds its way through the cracks of my stony heart with each new revelation Jathom tells me. “Kalen gave up everything. . . to ensure you would be safe. He told me once, he said ‘Jathom, this boy won’t become another mindless piece of the game. He’s gonna break down the walls.’ Despite what you think you know about him, he loved you like a real Father.”

  Father? What a strange word. “
What does that mean?” I ask.

  He squeezes the steering wheel. “It’s more than a life-giver. It means, someone that loves you and wants the best for you.”

  My heated demeanor transforms into meekness. “Why are you telling me all this, Jathom?”

  He takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t allowed to tell you this, but it’s important that you know the truth. Your father didn’t abandon you or try to escape Pura, he was murdered.”

  I can almost feel the gears inside my mind suddenly freeze; unwilling to turn, unwilling to accept. Murdered… murdered? It rings out in my mind as years of anger and resentment melt into inconsolable sorrow.

  “Someone killed my… father?” the weight of the word amplifies my already fringed emotions.

  The car stops abruptly. Three blocks ahead, a dozen SIO vehicles race their way to intercept us. “We have to be quick! I have some things I’ve been storing just in case.” He rams the car into the sidewalk and kills the engine as we sprint for the building.

  “Let’s take the stairs, they could cut all BAND access to buildings at any moment.” We climb up the long twenty flights in a few minutes, thundering through the tall stairwell before reaching his front door.

  We push the refrigerator into the entrance to buy some time as well as some other pieces of furniture, forming a poorly put together blockade. “This will do.” He sounds unconvinced.

  “This uniform won’t do me any good out there.” As I say this, Jathom throws me a pair of black pants and long sleeve shirt. “What’s this?” I ask as he runs into the bedroom.

  “Kevlar-textured clothing. It’s an old SIO prototype but was never put into mass distribution.” I complete the transformation and look in the mirror. Despair has painted itself thick into every crease and line of my face.

  Jathom returns with a large leather backpack and helps me put it on. The weight is surprising. I tighten the straps while he takes a step back to look at me. “You look so much like him, you know. Kalen.”

  I sigh and look into the mirror again. He pulls his gun out of its holster and hands it to me. “I forgot to ask, where’d you get that?”

  He smiles and shrugs “Slipped it off an unconscious SIO as we were leaving.” I take out the clip and count the remaining ammunition.

  “Just one more thing.” He disappears into the next room. “Kalen didn’t want you to have this until you were old enough.”

  I rub my hands together nervously, staring out the window towards the desert. Then look down at the cars that now surround the building with hundreds of SIO’s. The hairs on the back of my head stand up as a faint swishing sound gets louder and louder.

  It comes closer and closer until I see it through the big glass windows. A helicopter! A real helicopter. For a moment, fear is overridden by absurdity.

  The lengths taken just to stop one man. Jathom walks back and freezes. “GET DO—”

  I’m cut off by an ear-piercing hail of bullets as they tear the room apart. I dive down behind the kitchen counter and curl up into a ball on the floor. Everything around me explodes, shattering like ice. I try to yell out to Jathom but I can’t even hear my own voice.

  I cover my ears and wait for the onslaught to end. Finally, the shooting stops. The room is littered with dust and smoke. The barricaded entrance lurches forward with a loud bang. I jump up to push against it, pulling out pieces of wooden debris from my leg. The black clothing helped to slow the projectiles but it’s not bulletproof.

  Voices shout from on the other side of the barrier while the helicopter hovers just outside the now-empty window frames. “Jathom!” I scream.

  Another loud bang. The furniture moves away allowing for a small gap in the doorway. I feel my face turning flushed as I strain to close the gap. “JATHOM!” I yell as loud as I can.

  From my peripherals, I see his shadowy outline rush up beside me. His head’s bleeding, his clothing is torn yet he’s still strong enough to match the force of the intruders. He grabs at my pack and shoves a small black knife into one of the side holsters.

  Tying it tight he says, “This was Kalen’s knife. In case of emergency, he instructed me to give it to you.” I look over my shoulder at the chopper. One pilot and two gunners manning the large Gatling gun on its side. They’re attempting to drop a large green crate onto the gun’s center. They’re reloading it.

  There’s no escape. A gang of SIO’s before me and a guaranteed massacre behind. The gunners pound the top of the crate. It could be jammed. Another hard push comes from the door. I hear the hinges disjointing with every hit.

  Gloved hands reach inside seeking more leverage. Jathom and I exchange looks. “Go… I’ll be fine.” He slumps forward while sharp tears sting my eyes. “Krys… go.”

  I reach over and embrace him quickly, wishing it would make him invulnerable. “Ready, aim, fire,” we hear in hallway. Jathom pushes me down as hard as he can. I hit the floor just in time to see several holes erupt through the barricade. One bullet grazes my leg with tremendous heat.

  I suppress a scream, biting down on my tongue. There on the floor just a few feet away, is Jathom covered in blood and riddled with bullet holes in his chest. He turns his head and says again, “Krys, go.”

  Horrified, I scramble to my feet and instinctually sprint for the helicopter. More shots burst out from behind, a few of them whizzing by me. Twenty feet away from the window, then fifteen, ten, five, I’m in the air.

  My feet leave the floor as I plunge myself outside into the open nothing. My arms flail, my legs kick and my mind screams. The helicopter seems miles away at first, each millisecond passes in slow motion and speeds up the closer I get to the aircraft.

  Just as I’m about to land inside, terrible pain blasts from my shoulder and stomach. The bullets explode out of me, spraying crimson blood onto the gunners. One of my hands grabs an outside handle above the choppers open door, the other grabs the closest gunner as I pull him out, sending him plummeting.

  The second gunner reaches for his holstered gun. I lift up my leg and kick him square in the chest and send him soaring out the other side. I watch their bodies tumble, trying to resist the dominating will of gravity.

  Despite the two large white parachutes emerging from their backs, the first slams into the ground motionless. The second steers into a building before the chute collapses. I grab the gun from inside my pant pocket and aim it at the pilot.

  “Take us up!” I yell. He stares back at me, then his head falls to the side as blood pours from his mouth. The vehicle starts jerking from side to side. One of the bullets must have strayed and hit the pilot.

  I yank the pilot’s body into the back by the mounted gun, put myself into the cockpit, and grab the throttle to make my escape. Not knowing how to move it forward, the chopper quickly shoots upwards; the buildings shrinking into the distance.

  I slowly release the lever until it hovers in place by itself. With this I could definitely get to the edge of the Sphere. Just then a deep muffled thud, like an explosion, sounds in the distance. A projectile detonates twenty feet away from me.

  I feel the heat of the blast against my face, the shockwave resonating in my chest. Through the window, a trail of smoke curves its way to the ground below. Missiles. Anti-air missiles. Another muffled shot.

  I see this one speeding its way to me. The resources of IRIS are truly impressive. They’ve thought out every scenario, every probability. They have a solution for everything. The second explosion happens just a few feet away.

  Glass shatters into razor sharp pieces; cutting my face, arms, legs and chest. I’m thrown from the pilot seat, landing next to the corpse in the back. As I pull out some of the larger pieces of shrapnel, the chopper sinks into a spiral as one of the routers catches fire.

  I scramble back to the front, desperate to regain control. I tug hard on the lever, fighting to steer it into any direction, but there’s no response. Red lights flash, a loud buzzing noise screams while circular dials on the center console spin around
and around.

  It’s going down! I rush to the back, looking for anything I can use. Then I notice the white straps of a parachute on the dead pilot’s back. I turn over the body and attempt to untie the device when I hear another boom, a third shot fired.

  I only have a few seconds. With the missile about to hit, I pick up the corpse, stand on the edge of the open door and jump. The droning alarms are replaced by rushing air, making it hard to keep my eyes open.

  I see the missile fly past then impact the helicopter, causing a violent eruption of metal and flames. The shockwave rips the pilot’s body out of my grasp, the volatile air making it difficult to keep myself level.

  Somehow, I spot him through the blur of wind; his body flipping limply. I dive at him, latch onto his back and search hysterically for the blue parachute cord. It takes almost no force to send the chute upwards, nearly knocking me off.

  I look down to see the ground approaching fast as my shadow traces the desert floor. Holding my breath, I brace for impact; the pilot’s body taking the brunt of the fall.

  Immediately, the wind gets knocked out of me as we hit hard. The pilot lands face-first. We kick up a cloud of dust as the momentum drags us a few feet before we skid to a stop. I roll off of him and scramble back, holding my stomach and look at Pura from afar.

  I’ve landed at least fifteen minutes outside the city. Soreness sets in with alarming speed. “I can’t believe it,” I say out loud.

  BOOM! The smoldering frame of the helicopter falls right in front of me, crushing the man’s already crumpled body. The blades turn slightly, coated in smoke and embers.

  I let out a yell, surprised. This will tell them exactly where I’m at. I need to move fast. I examine the ground of the familiar landscape, searching for anything useful. Stabbing pain returns to my shoulder as I press my other hand against it to stop the bleeding.

  An extra ammunition clip lays a few feet from the wreckage, I pick it up and start walking to the other end of the Sphere. I have to stop after a few minutes to treat my wounds.