At this point, a strange smell catches my attention. I sniff my armpit, gag, then quickly put it back down. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a bath. Either Eli can’t smell, or he’s more polite than I thought.”
I undress myself, wash the work clothes, and pin them up next to my own. I doubt anyone will see me out here. Bare-skinned, I fill up a bucket of water and purify it. Though the ground outside is hard, it’s not painful to walk on.
It takes eight trips to fill the tub in my bathroom. The unbroken surface of the frigid water makes me hesitate. It’s better than walking around with this stench.
Pura has an advanced water filtration system. Thousands of miles of pipes under the Sphere lead directly into the ocean. The pipes purify the water as it travels through them. The temperature would automatically adjust when you turned it on. Never too hot or cold.
After long days in the fields, I always took a few minutes to enjoy a warm shower. Despite its flaws, the perks of dependency were truly otherworldly compared to everywhere else. I dip my toe in slowly, longing for a pleasant bath.
Even now this string of discomfort seeks to drive me back into their bindings. They cushion us with comfort and abuse us with fear, making it impossible to live without them. While I inch into the tub, my foot slips on the discolored pewter and I hit hard with a splash.
Groaning, I spit the water out of my mouth. “That hurt.” The icy water sends shivers down my spine, giving me goosebumps. I have nothing to wash myself with and no soap. I rest my head against one side of the tub, the water swishing back and forth.
My teeth chatter as I soak, though it only takes a few minutes till I become used to it. You’re using this time to relax. Just relax. I assure myself, fighting my inclination to be aware at all times.
Not more than ten minutes pass until I’m squirming with excess energy. I can’t sit in one place and do nothing.
I drain it and dress myself with another set of clothes. A small black shirt with faded writing on the front. The only word still visible is “Zeppelin” spelt in bold white letters. “I’ll have to look up what that means later.” He also gave me a pair of grey pants. They’re a little tight but comfortable nonetheless. Still in good working condition, I lace up my black SIO boots.
A quick look in the mirror and I hardly recognize myself. My face is thinner while my facial hair is growing out of control. Funny, I hadn’t even noticed that I was becoming unkempt. I rub my chin with my hands. The prickly hair bites at my skin, so coarse and rough to the touch.
I look around for something to shave with. Nothing. I scour for almost an hour, emptying out drawers, cushions, and even kitchenware. I sit on the floor with my legs crossed, head resting in my hand; pondering the answer.
“There must be someplace I haven’t thought of.” I close my eyes and hum. It’s the humming that prompts the idea. Eli’s room. I squint past the overlook at the top of stairs, considering what I might find.
What happens if he finds out? After what happened three days ago… I’ve already upset him so much. What if he attacks me? Wait, that goes against his nature. Eli is a gentle soul. Actually, come to think of it, it’s amazing the number of people I’ve known with such caliber: Eli, Jathom, and Kalen.
I rub my chin in intrigue then remind myself of the current quest. “Right.” With a little apprehension, I climb the stairs, turn right at the top and stride towards Eli’s room.
The knob turns, but doesn’t give way. I jerk it harder, it still won’t open. Grunting out of irritation, I slam my fist against the door.
The wood cracks under the weight. I better stop before I do anymore damage. I turn around defeated, the emptiness of the hallway mocking me. I’m overcome by a blistering feeling of failure until, without warning, I whip around and charge the door, screaming at the top of my lungs.
The weight of my body makes it collapse. A resounding crash erupts as the door hits, sending a plume of dust into the air. I cough, getting the wind knocked out of me, then stand up to examine the room.
His bed is right by the entrance, similar to mine, with a window facing north. There are two dressers and an open door leading to his own bathroom. I decide to start there. Several tiles are missing from the floor and the walls are peeled away revealing the wooden frame. Nothing to use here. I move to the dresser next. Each drawer I open is either empty or full of useless relics.
While I rummage through the last one, I yell out. “Finally!” A tiny razor blade hidden underneath a handful of miscellaneous objects. It’s a little rusty but should do the job. I look over at the broken door. “Eli said it might be a week before he returns. I’ll have it fixed before then.”
I return to my bathroom with another pail of purified water. My hand raises the dull blade slowly and begins raking it across my neck, chin, cheeks, and mouth. I wince as the razor tugs against my skin; pulling at my hair viciously.
I splash my face with some water and scrape away; losing myself while my thoughts congregate. They connect together one after another, growing into a web. It’s nothing terrible, just little things that I didn’t fully take notice of at the time.
Like Lucilla’s long black hair, Leina’s intoxicating scent, or that look Jathom gave me when we argued. They filter through without resistance or restriction. The pictures flash and dissolve into the next image.
A conversation comes to mind. I was in Jathom’s apartment near the edge of the Priory. He told me about a young granger, at least fifteen years old, reaching out to pocket a piece of fruit. As the countdown to his warning began, Jathom stepped in and told him he would be willing to pay for it himself.
I was outraged. “How could you be so stupid?” I was dumbfounded. I could tell my words were hurtful, though I’m sure he knew I’d react that way. “What if his BAND went off? What if you got caught and were reported to another Atlas? You could have been sent straight to Cleansing.”
He folded his arms as his face wrinkled into a frown. “Kalen would have done the same thing in my place,” he said sternly.
I rushed right up to his face and yelled, “And that’s the reason why he’s dead!”
My whole body went limp from the upset. I leaned up against the wall, having lost my balance.
He had run over to me. “Are you alri—”
I waved my hand and stood to walk out the door. Before turning to leave I said, “People in Pura die because they want more than what they already have. That’s why we live like this. Kalen said he loved me, every day. I don’t know if that was true or not and I don’t really care. All I know is that you do what you’re told, or you die. I can’t understand how dependents like you and him still don’t get that. I won’t risk my life the way he did. I’m not going to end up like that, a shriveled corpse withering on the desert floor. After he died, I swore I would do whatever it takes to survive. And I intend to follow through.”
Jathom nodded his head and exhaled in frustration. As the door closes, everything melts away and I’m back in the bathroom, holding the razor and staring up at the ceiling.
I wish I could show him how far I’ve come. Did he know? I wonder what he thought when I fought off that sentry in the fields. I really have changed. Maybe not for the better, but I’m a different man now than I was a four months ago.
Still holding the blade in my hand I look down to see red dots on my hands. I moan and splash a handful of water on my face again. The red quickly vanishes from my cuts, then starts to ooze out again.
As the bleeding stops, I look down at my BAND. I haven’t been checking it nearly as often these past few days, almost forgetting it’s still there. That is, until I hit it against something.
I think of my confrontation with Jathom and the day I attacked the sentry, rubbing my ribs remembering how most of them broke as the Atlases nearly beat me to death.
“What changed?” I had become adamant in obeying IRIS. I was an exceptional granger, or at least I was convinced to be so.
I once snuck a handful o
f strawberries myself, I was so hungry. Later during an evaluation, the sentries saw the juices on my shirt.
I walked home that day with a thick black eye and a swollen lip. Lesson learned. Kalen wasn’t upset. When asked why they beat me, I told him that I stole from our field.
He shook his head, wiped away the blood on my face he said, “You can be punished for doing something wrong for the ‘wrong’ reasons. I’d like to see you do something ‘wrong’ for the right reasons.” I rolled my eyes and went to bed. I didn’t understand what he meant then. I think I’m starting to.
I walk out to the clothesline, put on my Kevlar gear, then enter Eli’s collection. Dependents are not uneducated in Pura. We are taught from a very young age how to speak, write, read, and all that was required to help each other “strive together.”
But, I’ve never been given a chance to look into these things for myself. I pick up the worn out dictionary I’ve been reading from and thumb through looking for a certain word. “Justify: To demonstrate or prove to be just, right, or valid.”
I ponder on this word for sometime. But how does one determine what is right and what is wrong? I look up the word wrong. “Contrary to conscience, morality, or law”. According to IRIS, uncontrolled speech, thought, or emotion is “wrong” which makes me unfit for dependency. But, are those things wrong?
I picture the ruined city not five miles away. Is this necessary? I grip my BAND, feeling it press against my skin. What if IRIS is wrong? What if it’s wrong to keep dependents, no, a person from thinking, feeling and speaking? How do we define morality? Where do you draw the line? Where does it end?
So many questions. I can feel myself coming close to a breakthrough as my conviction grows. I return upstairs and write down my thoughts. I start with pieces of ideas and bits of previous conversations. Then, all at once, it begins to come together.
I make an account of everything that’s happened to me. I write about Pura, the Sphere, IRIS laws, and lifestyle. I write it all down, releasing my torment through paper and ink. My fingers grow stiff as the hours pass.
I ignore the aching in my joints, while filling page after page to capacity; detailing the agony of my broken mind. Each stroke strikes like the crack of thunder, tearing out another piece of my stony soul.
I stop only once the light of my lantern is extinguished, the candle having melted completely away. The next day, I continue to write. Using the dictionary to fill in any of the words that I don’t understand or know how to express.
At long last, I put the pen down as it dries out; leaving only faint scratch marks upon the frail paper. I can’t stop now, I’m so close. I’ve already searched this house, there’s nothing else to write with.
I look outside the window at the other houses while muddy colored clouds spread across the sky. Three of the houses are nothing more than rubble, burnt down by the lightning. It’s the house closest to me that still looks somewhat intact.
I stare at it and weigh my options, then I decide to explore. I shut the front door to Eli’s house and walk across the barren ground with only the sound of my footsteps for company. Scattered pieces of black and white wood litter the ground, being recently charred from the fire.
I step inside the doorless entryway; an eerie sensation sends the hairs on the back of my head shooting up. There’s no light, and my lantern is all used up. My heart rate quickens and my breathing deepens as I step in. What if there’s someone in there? What if they try to harm me? Who would know I’m here, better yet how could they know? We’re in the middle of nowhere.
This thought fills me with peace. Inside, there’s no furniture or décor. Just a big empty space. I stroll alongside the walls and examine them. It’s amazing this place is still standing as is. The back corners are caked with dark red blotches.
I tap it with my fingertips and sniff. “Blood. Old blood.” Spilt from years ago. As the minutes pass, my vision adapts to the darkness. There’s actually several patches of blood all along the ground and walls. Questions fill my mind yet again.
Who lived here? What happened to them? Who attacked? I continue my exploration by traversing into the kitchen. There’s an old refrigerator standing without any doors. All the cabinets lay bare, some with their coverings ripped off. “Must have been raided long ago.”
There’s more blood on the kitchen floor that trails off; leading to the basement. As I descend, I can’t help but think I really should have brought a weapon or something. My feet leap off of the last step revealing another open room, only this one is much thinner.
Shards of broken glass show me to a stairwell leading up to the backyard. The wind and dust have covered up most of it. I exit the stairwell facing away from Eli’s house. Just thirty feet away, I see them.
Two long mounds of dirt and a third smaller mound in the middle of them. Graves. For the people who used to live here. I swallow to get rid of the lump in my throat. In my mind, I imagine a little girl and her parents, struggling to survive. Doing everything they could to live another day.
I respectfully walk over them and kneel down. Picking up small handfuls of dirt and letting them slip through my fingers. How I pity them, erased from time and existence. Eli, you found their bodies didn’t you? I should pay tribute to them somehow. To show that they aren’t completely forgotten.
I feel inside of my pockets, then scan the wooded waste around me for something. I gather up an armful of rocks, as many as I can carry. Placing each stone intentionally to form words. On the two bigger piles, I write “Mother” and “Father” then on the smaller mound, I write “Child.”
“That should do,” I imagine the weight of the words, a ‘family’, which is a new word I learnt from Eli’s dictionary. It is unlike anything I knew in Pura. I imagine the weight of the words, wiping my nose while I cross my arms and bow my head in silence.
There are no graves in Pura, only ashes. There’s no time to mourn, neither is there a reason. I still don’t have anything to write with. Wearily, I case the other three houses. I don’t think my heart has the strength.
I decide against going inside the rest. Instead, I’ll go back and find something else to do until Eli returns. With head down, I return to the dusty wooden house. At the halfway point, something catches my attention. In the top right window where my room is, I see a figure dash out of sight.
Like a punch to the gut, all the air is drawn from my lungs. “It’s probably Eli,” I reassure myself.
Though despite my tone of confidence, my instincts kick in as if responding to immediate danger. I can’t shake the feeling that whoever is in there, is hostile. I search for a reason someone would be here in the abandoned housing settlement.
Could it be an Atlas? No. The Council will believe I’m dead by now. So who would come out this far? Maybe something happened to Eli? If pressed for information, he could tell them about the hou—
A sickening realization grips my mind. The Garden Room. Of course! The ability to purify water is priceless to the outside would. People would kill for it.
With adrenaline coursing through me, I sprint towards the house ready to fend off the intruder. As I reach to open the door, another thought stops me in my tracts. What if this is in my mind? I’ve seen things before. . . nightmares, hallucinations, uncontrollable flashbacks. They haven’t been as prominent, but still I have to be sure.
Looking closely at the knob, I notice the slight crack of an already open door which I’m certain was fully closed. At least, I thought it was. The eroded hinges of the door cause it to squeak, especially when opened slowly.
The inside appears darker to me now, my intuition screaming at me to get away. The uneven floorboards creak with the slightest ounce of pressure. I’m reminded of Eli’s lesson in the playground. Stealth is key.
I wish I were as able. My forehead tightens as I focus all of my senses to confirm the presence of an intruder. It was upstairs that I thought I saw them, though they could have moved since then. With hypervigilance, I wait i
n the dark for something to happen. Waiting for the figure to makes its presence known.
Silence.
Each second drags on as my posture changes with the slightest movement. Another minute goes by, nothing. Am I going crazy? My sprouting cynicism seeks for permission to forgo my extreme awareness. I did say it could be a hallucination… That makes a lot of sense.
I take a breath, accepting this answer for the moment. But decide to search the house for my own peace of mind. First, I examine the living room, then the kitchen. Everything looks to be in order. Second, I check the Garden Room. No sign of disturbance.
Then, I climb the stairs silently… or at least I try to. The shifting lumber might as well be an alarm. Once at the top, I look inside my room. Nothing suspicious. Then, I check Eli’s room, the door still knocked down from earlier. Relief finally penetrates my anxious mind as I exhale a long-held sigh.
It disappears when I remember there is still one place yet to search… the collection. The thought sends chills down my spine, colder than the bath water. “It’s okay, Krys. All you have to do, is go downstairs and you’ll see there’s nothing to worry about. It was all in your mind.”
My words comfort me enough to motivate me back down the stairs, just as loudly, and down the basement steps. I can’t stop myself from taking deep heaving breaths, sucking in the cement particles. The urge to cough is suppressed by anxiety.
I’m almost there, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s all in my mind. I take off the key from behind my neck and place it into the keyhole. While clicks into place, I hear something. It sounds like running. Something running right at me! Frantically, I turn the knob. It’s stuck! I can’t get the door to open.
The sound gets closer and closer, feet stomping against cold concrete. They’re right behind me! The door un-jams and I burst inside shutting it behind me with great force. I feel a mass on the other side preventing the door from closing fully. I dig my heels into the floor and with a loud grunt, I push.
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