Eli sits silently, listening.
With a big huff, I continue. “Of all the dependents in Pura. . . he was the most like a real person.”
I cross my arms, having reached my limit. Examining each moment brings out the most horrible anxiety. Eli sits across from me, legs crossed, writing notes in a small black book.
I chose the living room for our sessions due to the design of the fireplace. The red bricks give it a “homey” feeling as Eli taught me from his dictionary. I’ve learned a lot of new words since then. I’d rather be reading from his collection then talking about all this… ‘crap.’
Eli lifts his chin and scratches it before saying. “Krys, I know it’s hard to bring up something traumatic. But the more you get it out, the less control it will have over you.”
I can’t help feeling offended by his comment, but I refrain from saying so. Instead, I take a deep breath and wait for the sensation to pass. “It’s hard because whenever I talk about it, I’m reliving it. Dependents are supposed to steer away from emotion, not explore it.”
My legs bounce up and down as I nibble on my fingertips. “I understand, Krys. I think we’re done for today.” He closes his book and looks me over. I can tell he knows I’m upset. “I’ll give you a few minutes to gather your thoughts. When you collect yourself, fetch some water from outside.”
He walks out of view towards the garden room. The cold sweat from my forehead sends chills all over. Why is this so hard? Eli had me read a psychology manual. He explained that soldiers in the past developed mental disorders due to extreme stress. This causes avoidance of reminders to the trauma which can trigger breakdowns.
I already knew I was broken, I just didn’t realize the extent. I force myself to think of Kalen, his face burning bright; waving the nightmares away. He and Jathom both smiling, laughing. A phantom of what could have been.
I fight the tears unsuccessfully. If I only knew what I know now, the things I would tell them if I could. My father was a member of the Council. I replay my conversation with Jathom as we rushed away from the Triad.
Realizing everything I ever thought about Kalen was wrong. I couldn’t comprehend how much he sacrificed for me.
All anyone does is sacrifice themselves for me. I’m too much of a coward. I couldn’t find Leina when Brutus took her. I didn’t stay and fight with Jathom. I didn’t attack the Atlases that arrested Maxis… he’s probably dead by now.
So many people gave up everything for me so I’d have a chance. And how have I repaid them? I was ready to kill myself! What a waste. What a pathetic excuse of a man I am.
Mixed emotions swirl around in my stomach as guilt changes to contempt. I didn’t ask them to die for me. I never asked anyone for help. I had to do things myself after Kalen died. And who are they to be so noble? Why should I be willing to die for someone whose life isn’t worth spit to me?
That same contempt then changes into envy. Like Eli said, ‘They knew who they were. Do I even know who I am? What does the name Krys even mean to me? It’s just a used label given to me from the last dependent after he died. Outside of Pura, I’m nothing. Who am I?
I pace in front of the fireplace as thoughts eject themselves out of my mouth in fragments. “Who are they to. . . Doesn’t my life mean. . . Why am I so. . .” I hold onto the brick mantel to keep my balance, when my limbs go limp.
Focus. Focus on breathing. Inhale, 2-3-4 and then exhale 2-3-4. The room darkens as my vision nearly stops. Hold on! Just breathe Krys, just breathe! It takes all my energy to keep from blacking out; enduring the immobilizing haze, waiting for it to lift.
I push myself over to the couch Eli was sitting on and collapse. Sleep comes immediately. I can hear Eli in the Garden Room, singing in his low baritone voice. The wind rattles against the windows outside. The force from each sudden gust, vibrates the house; playing a symphony of creaking wood and hollowed pipes.
What stories would these walls tell? What would they say about the people who lived here? What would they say about the bombs and the fighting and the death? Would they feel sorry for humanity? Or would they remain silent with cold, judgmental eyes?
Condemnation seems to be the only suitable punishment to man’s lust for power; our notion to destroy rather than create.
Are the Three Laws necessary then? Is it true that when given the choice between good and evil, the majority will always choose evil? Or is it deeper than that? Are we so far gone that the good choice doesn’t even appeal to us anymore? Do we simply crave chaos, death, and sorrow because true happiness would actually make us miserable?
These questions lose volume as my mind’s voice drifts off to silence. From the darkness, a single straight line of red appears with a dull glow. Then, a line of green appears; slanting downwards to the right. Another line, this time blue, from the other side hanging down to the left. And in the center, a single eye opens in the center revealing the all too familiar emblem; the IRIS.
A voice pushes through the disarray. Eli shakes me awake, “Krys? Krys!”
I jolt up with a gasp. “It’s okay, son. It’s okay.”
“What happened?” I wheeze, out of breath.
“You were having a panic attack. I heard you yelling a name from the other room.”
I look up at him. “What name?”
His eyes are soothing. “You said ‘Leina’.”
I turn away embarrassed.
“That the girl you told me about? The one from the Sphere?” I straighten up on the couch and Eli sits himself beside me. “You haven’t told me a lot about her.”
My hands rub together nervously. “She uh… she was a trainer. Second class SIO’s help to train new Atlases, mostly combat training. She was…”
He chuckles. “A lady friend.”
I stammer, not sure how to respond. “Wh-what? It wasn’t like that. Besides, even if… we both felt those things, it’s not like I could do anything about it.”
He pats my knee. “A society without love or romance is truly without a soul. Love is an amazing thing, Krys. It can lift you higher than you—”
“—Not now, Eli.”
Surprise wipes away his smile. “I beg your pardon?” his tone changes.
“I said not now.”
A deflated sigh signals his disappointment to me. “You can’t keep running away from this—”
“No!” I yell, standing up, the couch scraping on the bare floor. “I can’t, I can’t listen to anymore of this.” I dig my fingernails into the side of my head.
“It’s hard to lose someone you love, believe me I know.”
I crack my knuckles sadistically. “What happened to her?” He sits up a little straighter. “With Andy, what happened?” I bait him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he mutters darkly. “Krys, you’ve been traumatized enough already.”
I turn around to face him, he is standing now too. “I’m fine.” The tension numbs my logic.
“You’ve been blacking out, you’re losing your appetite.”
“I said I’m fine.” My voice gets louder as anger overrides my sensibility.
“Krys, I really don’t think this will help.”
A fuse ignites in me, letting loose ruthless ferocity. “Why? Because you know about ‘pain’? Because you’ve been through as much as I have? You don’t know anything!”
He takes the verbal assault unflinchingly. “I can’t stop myself from checking my BAND every minute just to make sure it’s still turned off. Do you know what that feels like? To know at any given moment, you could die just like that.” I snap my fingers for emphasis. “I saw three children murdered in front of my eyes, children Eli! I can’t sleep at night without seeing their faces. Too many people I cared about died. And what’s worse is how awful I feel when I find myself wishing I didn’t care. How I wish they meant nothing to me so I could stop hurting. Kalen, Jathom, Leina, Maxis, Adaam, Vae, Lucilla, anyone who meant something to me is dead! So what do you know?”
/> I drop into the armchair with a diluted sensation of victory. He doesn’t know me, or what I’ve been through. My eyes are drawn to the window as the wind rattles them again.
In my peripheral, he sits mournfully, saying in a low voice. “Andy, she was my wife.” I don’t need to look at him directly to see the sunken stare in his eyes. “My parents advised against it. So did hers. They didn’t want us to getting involved in case something happened.”
I let my head turn fully now, listening attentively. “We were just kids, but we had known each other a long time. We both worked hard at the hospital. Even found a way to keep the building somewhat sterile. Had a tough time finding clean water and supplies though. My father used to tell me stories about his father. He said “If you get far away enough from the Sphere, when the sun sets, the whole sky lights on fire.” He laughs. “And I thought to myself, ‘Wow, what I wouldn’t give to see that.’ I told Andy about it all the time. Drove her crazy! I told her that one day we would get out and spend the rest of our days in the sunset.”
He stops for a moment to stifle a whimper, then continues. “Word about the hospital spread, lots of folks came from all over to be treated. There wasn’t enough room for all of them to stay. So we went to work. We occupied about a block’s worth of small buildings and turned them into a community space. And suddenly, we were right around the corner to rebuilding civilization. It took almost a year before we were done, but you should have seen it. I mean, it was amazing. Human ingenuity is truly a remarkable thing.”
His smile remains even as the tears begin to form. He tells his story so effortlessly, it’s like I’m watching it happen right in front of me. “I remember the day I proposed. I was so nervous, even at twenty two. I waited until our work was done and asked her to meet me on the roof.”
He wipes his mouth a few times. “She joined me a few minutes later. I told her, ‘If I’m going to live in this world, I want something to live for.’ You should have seen it, she started crying. It got pretty messy. Then I got down on one knee and asked her to be my wife.”
I’ve never seen such tenderness in a person before. Each word is spoke with conviction, passion, and care. My childish brooding passes, leaving the sourest regret.
“Eli, you don’t have to—”
He cuts me off. “—Me and Andy took an apartment two buildings away from the community. She wanted us to have space while still being close to everyone. Took time to fix up our place. Had to find beds, furniture; I don’t know how, but she bartered for a full dish set. We even made a room for the baby…”
This time his emotions succeed, halting his words as a quiver sneaks past his composure. Reverence prevents me from speaking until he is ready to talk again.
“That’s when things got bad. We stayed away from the heart of the city, small enough to go undetected. But as we expanded, the Blooders came. They demanded food, water, and meds to be given every week for permission to live within their borders. There was barely enough for the day to day, so we refused. That’s when the attacks started. We heard their screams outside the hospital. All anyone could do was hide and hope that they didn’t find us. This went on for weeks. Some people wanted to take action, said that if we didn’t fight back, the Blooders would take everything. That same night, a horde of Blooders attacked. They were armed to the teeth with pipes, bats, knives, pickaxes, anything they could find. There were sixty-eight of us, only five made it out.”
He wears the pain like a mask; riddled with grief, equal to that of my self-hatred for exploiting his sufferings. Humiliation and disgrace rob me of the previous outrage as I utter, barely audibly, “I don’t know what to say.”
He stands up and walks to the same window I was staring at. “The five of us ran to the edge of the city, to the Sphere. I thought if we found a way inside, we could escape. When we got to the top we saw the giant metal base that surrounds the Sphere. I banged on those doors for what felt like hours, unaware that the Blooders spotted us and sent their worst to finish us off. All I heard was the sound of my pounding fists until he swung his rusted machete, cleaving straight through the bone. He was a demon, cutting one man right down the middle then shooting the second. He removed the third man’s arms first, followed by his legs, then his genitals. He cried for so long, begging for death, only after did the demon kill him.”
“Then, it was only me and Andy. I have never known a greater love than her. She made me happy. Truly happy, every day. As wonderful and powerful as love is in all its splendor, it is equally tortuous, hideous and excruciating when taken from you. I knew I was no match for the tyrant, so I tried to bargain with him. I told him he could take me as a slave, said that I would provide them a lifetime of service without any trouble. I got down on my knees and I pleaded with him. I said ‘Please, please you can take me, you can take anything you want.’ He just stood there with those black eyes, the eyes of death.”
I let the tears fall down my cheeks while Eli wipes his away. “He pushed me down and beat me like no man has ever been beaten and lived to tell about it. Even as he broke my bones and bruised my skin, I continued to plead, ‘Please, please.’ I was forced to watch as he defiled my wife, then disemboweled her.”
I’ve seen more than my share of death in my twenty-one years. But the level of detail depicted in Eli’s retelling shakes me to the core.
In shame, I cover my hand with my mouth. “Krys, no matter how deep that emptiness inside you feels, there’s a way to climb out. The things I told you are horrible, but I got through them and learned to let it go.”
I let the last few tears dribble down as penance to his loss. An invisible weight presses down upon him as he walks sluggishly towards me. “We are not the sum of our weakness, but our decisions. A man is not born a killer; he becomes so via his actions. I chose long ago to purge my hatred and move on. That was the only way I could go on. Now if you’re ready to do the same, I suggest you take a good look at yourself and decide whether your life is worth living. Because if it’s not, I’ll help you end it. But if it is, then I’ll do all I can to protect it.”
I wade in shame as Eli shuffles up the stairs. You make a promise right now, Krys, you will never use this against him, never. Eventually, sleep bids me return to bed. How could I do that to Eli?
I wrestle for sleep feeling exhausted, but my mind won’t let me rest. I toss and turn for hours. Finally, I give up and light the candle inside my lantern. I still haven’t read the book Eli gave to me three weeks ago. Guilt motivates me to do so now.
I open the drawer of my dresser and open up to the first few pages. It’s blank. “What?” I turn to the front cover to find a message written from Eli.
“Krys, this book is about you. It’s your story, your words and the world you’ve seen. Bleed your pain and sorrow onto each page and I promise you that’s where they’ll stay. –Eli”
I grip it tightly. “This is my story.” I press my finger into the center, chunks of pages have been torn out.
Eli wrote his story down. Now he’s made room for me. As I bow my head against the ruffled papers, a note falls out, landing on the floor. I pick it up mindlessly and begin to read.
Eli. It’s hard for me to use words as good as you. You’ve always been good with words. I always seem to mess them up. I just can’t say how much I love you. I’ve watched you for years, I’ve seen your passion and strength. It almost makes me want to believe all the things your mother says. But if a man like you could come from a world like this, then there is hope. Don’t ever give that up. No matter what happens or how hard things get, I want you to remember these words. You can choose. No one hurts you more than yourself. Don’t forget or you’ll be in for an earful. I love you, Andy.
Her words melt their way through my hard-hearted cynicism. Reaching across the chasm of death to comfort those unfortunate enough to still be alive. I’m drawn to the lantern’s flame as it flickers. It’s almost like she wrote this for me too.
Carefully, I place the note back
into the folds of the book, and return it to the drawer. I can feel clarity growing in my mind. Eli’s words harrowed me, but Andy’s words humbled me. Nothing has ever impacted me as strongly.
I believe. Or at least . . . I want to believe. That I can be more than a traumatized slave. I lay back down and pull the blanket over myself. Still, something in the back of my mind stirs. A shard of familiarity as Eli described his wife’s killer.
Then it hits me: I’ll make you watch as I spill your guts out before you die. These words resurrect themselves in my mind, spoken by the same man who tried to kill me, spoken by the same monster who killed Andy. . . Fash.
Chapter 12 Like a Lamb
Tiny droplets of water blend in with the perspiration plunging down my face and onto my lifeless BAND screen. I stop for a second to wipe it off, then continue working the soil in the garden room.
Eli has been gone for nearly three days. He left a note on the living room table. He said he went to get supplies in the city, and that if he doesn’t return in a week’s time, to assume he’s dead, and keep the house for myself. I fiddle with the key around my neck, remembering this.
Whether intentional or not, his words only add to the burden of remorse. I’ve been using this time to put my thoughts in order. I sat in my room for so long, pen in hand; but the words wouldn’t come. I’ve walked up and down those mangled stairs for hours, trying to release the building pressure.
I couldn’t get my mind to clear up, so I decided to work the garden room in the meantime. When I’m not tending to the crops, I read from Eli’s collection. I especially love reading in the dictionary. So many questions I never knew I had, have been answered.
All at once, this unquenchable thirst for knowledge began to take hold of me. I couldn’t stop reading yesterday, and all I can think about now is continuing to the next subject. I wipe my brow and stand in the doorway.
The strenuous work leaves me feeling satisfied as I finish up. I have sweat my way through one of Eli’s work shirts. A light blue tee with the words, “Deal With It” on the front. He lent me a few pairs to use while my Kevlar clothes were washed and hung to dry.
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