Elements (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2)

by Sundin, Jesikah

  His steps slowed before the gate. He gripped the shading device’s handle in one hand, then reached with the other to grasp the hot metal of the gate. Although his skin stung with the heat, he did not let go, pulling himself forward to peer through the bars and study the endless shades of white, rust and gold before him. Land sprawled in every direction, a disorienting thought. And, to his utter disbelief, mountains! His heart pulsed with excitement as his eyes traveled over the curved land. In books, the word majestic was always paired with the geographical feature and he could not agree more. Each peak was part of nature’s crown that rested upon Mother Earth’s head, proudly boasting her nobility.

  A rumble sounded to his right and he angled his head and blinked. Dust swirled the air down the dirt path and Coal stared in fascination. He probably should be frightened as he lacked an explanation for the rumble and the dust. The golden cloud moved along the wide path and a dark spot gleamed from the center. Startled by the strange sight, he walked backwards, clutching the shading device as a shiny enclosed cart rolled by, kicking small rocks up into the air. One struck him on the thigh and he jumped.

  Transfixed on the Outsider cart, he nearly missed the circular object that flew toward him from beyond the gate. The instant his eyes locked onto the mysterious sight, his entire body paralyzed.

  How did it fly?

  As the question repeated in his mind, a transparent man appeared beneath the disc and asked in unnaturally smooth tones, “Hello, are you from inside the biodome?”

  Coal’s heart stopped. Then, his feet went into motion and he raced back toward the lab.

  People did not appear from thin air. It was impossible. Perhaps he had indeed traveled to the afterlife and met his first ghost. Michael’s eyes widened when Coal dropped to the ground, sweat dripping from his forehead as his body began to shake. Through chattering teeth he attempted to vocalize that he saw a ghost, but could not form the words. So instead, he pointed toward the gate. Michael jogged toward where Coal had indicated and halted his steps. Pivoting on his heel, the scientist ran back, encouraging Coal with urgent tones to get up and to get into the facility. Fear accelerated through Coal once more and he barreled through the door.

  Once inside the temperate forest, Coal jumped into the creek and splashed water on his face. He needed to cool down and regain control of his senses. There had to be a logical explanation, but he was far too disturbed to form rational thoughts.

  “Did it speak to you?” Michael asked as he knelt on the ground beside him.

  “It?” Coal’s eyes widened again and he blinked when water dripped into his eyes.

  “That was a media drone.”

  Coal grabbed Michael’s lab coat with his fist and yelled, “Those words mean nothing to me! Explain properly, please.”

  Michael paled and Coal let go with a heavy sigh and turned away. He felt a moment of shame for the aggression, but his body did not know if it should continue to run away or fight in self-protection.

  “It is a machine that flies and projects a picture of a person,” Michael said in a calm tone, “programmed to talk and interact with humans. It records you and then replays on a Cranium for everyone to see.”

  “Records me?” Coal considered his words and then splashed more water onto his face, deciding to just dunk his head into the creek instead. The cold water brought instant relief and his scalp pleasurably tingled. He pulled out of the water and shook his head, then wiped the dripping water from his eyes with his hand.

  “It’s hard to explain. Let me show you.”

  Michael activated his Cranium and Coal watched, pulse still pounding, as Michael moved the air with his finger. Coal could not see what Michael viewed, but Michael stared at the void with a serious face. While Coal waited, he pulled his hair out of the leather strap and brushed his fingers through the strands.

  “OK, ready to see?”

  The scientist’s finger touched the air and suddenly Coal’s image wavered in front of their vision, mimicking the motions Coal had just made while grooming his hair. Coal jumped, landed on his arse, and scooted back along the forest floor until his back bumped against a tree trunk. “Is that my spirit?”

  “Oh my god, I am so sorry. No, Coal. No.” Michael stepped toward Coal. “That was not your spirit. It was a recording. It’s like a mirror that can be played back. Nothing more.”

  Coal’s stomach spasmed and he turned on his hands and knees and vomited. His body continued to shake and his teeth chattered once more. The contents of his stomach purged again and his muscles convulsed.

  “You’re going into shock. Breathe deep, breath slow.” Michael placed a hand on Coal’s back.

  “I wish to return to my room,” Coal said through shallow, ragged breaths.

  “First, let’s get you regulated. You’ve experienced too much adrenaline, there is less oxygen in the air outside, and your body is shutting down.”

  “My room!”

  Michael pulled his hand away. “OK. If you can stand and walk, then let’s go.”

  The fear in Coal’s bloodstream turned to a white-hot anger, and he wished for solitude before he did something rash. There was no wood to chop. No iron to pound. No stalls to muck. No soil he was allowed to till and plow. He could not sit and work. He could not sit and breathe to humor Michael. Instead, he wished to repeatedly punch something and scream until his body no longer needed the workout.

  Every muscle tensed as he forced his body to maintain control. But the nausea rolled again and he leaned over to the side into the bushes with a hacking cough. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he flushed from head to toe. Michael opened his mouth to probably tell him to “sit” but Coal glared and the scientist shut his mouth and opened the door.

  The motion of walking lowered his anxiety a smidgen. Coal fixed his eyes on the carpet—a word they used to describe a wall-to-wall rug—and refused to acknowledge passersby or those still working behind their desks. Despite the smiles and platitudes, all they wished for him to do was “sit” and accept that, as their human experiment, they could drug him, lie to him, and terrify him. He longed to return to the falsified life behind glass—at least it was a life he understood and did not fear.

  “All right, here you go. Place your thumb on this black box. I programmed it remotely with your vitals while we were outside.”

  Coal glared at Michael and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Michael frowned and placed his own thumb on the black box. The door clicked and Coal shoved into the room and slammed the solid wooden door in Michael’s face. A bright and unnatural light instantly came on overhead and Coal squinted and shielded his eyes. He walked to the holographic switch and, with his thumb and index finger, pretended to grip the nob and rotate it until the lighting lowered to the level of candlelight. The holographic nob glowed with a strange blue light amongst the shadowed walls and he stared in agitation. There was no actual knob, yet its appearance was no relic from the spirit realm.

  Was the recording similar to this hologram?

  Fury fired through his veins and he approached his pillow and punched and punched and punched as a guttural growl emerged. He delivered blow after blow, gritting his teeth until his head pained from the tension. Still unsatisfied, he grabbed the pillow and used all his strength as he pulled at the center in different directions. A tearing sound ripped through the room and a strange fluffy substance burst into the air.

  For a moment, he stilled and observed the pink and blue bits float in a mysterious current as if faeries. It was beautiful and he reached out a hand and watched the unknown substance land on his palm. As the tiny objects cycled downward, they stuck to Coal’s clothes and coated his hair, and he dropped his hand. With a resigned sigh, he lowered onto the edge of his cot and slumped forward over his knees.

  A click sounded and his head snapped up as the door creaked open. Hanley stood in the door frame and surveyed the room.

  Did no one knock in the Outside world?

  “Is this a g
ood time?” Hanley asked with a humored smile. “May I come in?”

  Coal gestured toward the chair in his room and clenched his jaw. Hanley walked through the room with care, brushed off the seat of the chair, and sat.

  “Did the pillow spontaneously combust?”

  “No, sir.”

  Another small smile appeared on Hanley’s face, and Coal looked down at his hands. He should feel ashamed for destroying the property of another, but the heat still coursed through his body. Coal lightly kicked at some of the pillow substance on the floor as he anxiously waited for Hanley to share the reason for his visitation.

  “Do you know how your father came to be known as The Fire Element?”

  Coal shook his head and acquiesced to conversation as his body further slumped forward; he dug his elbows into his knees to support his head. He had his ideas on Hanley’s question—namely his father’s craft as a blacksmith—but never had a story attached to such notions. The Elements just were, in his mind, and as a Noble son, he just was. The past lacked context and, therefore, relevance. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Hanley leaned back comfortably and stared at the ceiling.

  “When we were a little older than you, but not by much,” he began, “Connor and I roomed together at a college named the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, or MIT for short. And boy did he have a temper. He would get so angry sometimes that he was known to punch holes into walls. Our dorm room was riddled with holes. Needless to say, the Dean was not pleased.” Hanley smiled to himself and then continued. “Connor was built like you—tall, athletic, and muscular from all the welding he did for side jobs to pay for school. His welding employer tired of Connor’s temper and told your father on the last day of our second year that he acted as if he had fire in his veins.”

  The room was an utter mess and Coal smirked. He was the Son of Fire, and the fire of his father flowed in his veins. The thought brought a modicum of happiness to his heart and he looked up and finally met Hanley’s eyes.

  “This theory, of course, could not go untested,” Hanley said with humor. “The next day we returned home for the summer and promptly went out with some friends to a cabin in the woods that belonged to my wife’s grandfather. Joel, Timothy, John, Jeff, Dylan, Connor, and I spent the afternoon drinking until Dylan had the bright idea that if Connor had fire in his veins, then naturally he should be able to breathe fire as well. Dylan always had radical ideas that always ended in an epic disaster. But the ideas always seemed ingenious at the time.”

  Coal was smiling now and Hanley began again without skipping a beat. “Your father, eager to prove he was a dragon, swished and swallowed a gulp of one hundred-and-twenty-proof moonshine and then blew out, holding up a flame to the fumes.” Hanley started laughing and Coal’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Except, he blew out toward a curtain which promptly caught on fire. Dylan started shouting ‘I knew it! I knew it!’ over and over again while Jeff, always hyper-nervous, rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a large pot and filled it with water. Joel was on the floor doubled over in laughter. John helped Jeff. Timothy shook his head and rolled his eyes. But your father... I have never seen a man look more proud than at that moment. He was a dragon.”

  Laughter rolled out of Coal. That was probably, by far, the best story he had heard in his life. He could picture everything, even the proud look upon his father’s face.

  “You have fire in your veins, Coal,” Hanley said. He looked at Coal with nary a blink, and a slow smile crept along his face. “It needs a proper outlet or you’ll burn down everything in your path.”

  Coal shifted upon his cot as the humor quickly faded. “I see,” Coal said carefully. “And what would you have me do?”

  “Tomorrow you’ll start getting instructions on information technology, past and present, and within the week you’ll know how to use a Cranium and even how to build a basic computer.”

  “Does this require long hours spent in a chair?”

  Hanley laughed. “You are so much like your father.” The owner stood up and walked toward the door. “After dinner I’ll show you the welding shop and assign someone to instruct you on how to use our modern blacksmithing tools.” He turned in the doorway. “It’s the same shop Connor used to help build New Eden Township.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Hanley said as he rested the door against the frame. The owner’s eyes swept over Coal from head to toe with another calculating gaze and Coal braced himself. A sad expression stole the older man’s features and Hanley looked away. “When we arrive in Seattle, I’ll need you to act as a guard for my daughter, Lynden. With her brother away, she needs someone to protect her.”

  “Is her life threatened?”

  “A man assaulted her. She is in a hospital receiving medical attention. I am flying out tomorrow morning and will return Thursday evening. Can I trust you to apply yourself and not give Michael or any others on my team grief?”

  His daughter was assaulted by a man?

  What sort of man harms a woman?

  Nausea rolled in Coal’s stomach again. The very idea made his heart heavy and he felt humbled that, after his angry display, Hanley would trust him with his daughter. Perhaps this was why Hanley acted so strangely since yesterday. Not only had he temporarily lost a son, the distraction of being here when he would rather be at home comforting his daughter must be painful.

  “Yes, sir. I shall do my best this week. And I am honored that you should trust me to protect your daughter. I shall treat her with the utmost respect.” Coal stood and bowed.

  “Thank you. As I said yesterday, I knew you were a man of honor, and most valiant, too.”

  Michael appeared in the hallway and looked into the room with big eyes. “Oh my.”

  “Did you know Coal is a dragon?” Hanley winked at Coal, and then disappeared down the hallway.

  Coal’s lips twitched as he worked hard to suppress a smile, especially when Michael stared at him with part incredulity and part confusion. Thoughts of Hanley’s daughter surfaced and his anger renewed.

  “Well, Mr. Nichols is in a good mood. Perhaps you should destroy pillows more often,” Michael said, shaking his head. “I came to tell you dinner was ready. Goodness, you are covered in nanopolyfill. Hop in the shower and I’ll wait for you in the hallway.” Michael touched the Cranium against his head and began poking at the air with a concentrated look. His hand grabbed the air and then he looked up with a polite smile. “Rosa will be here soon to clean up.”

  “Whilst I bathe?” Coal’s eyes rounded.

  “Not anything she’s never seen before. But don’t worry. Rosa will stick to your bedroom while you use the, ahem, restroom.” He laughed at his own joke and Coal smiled nervously in reply.

  A woman in his chambers while he bathed?

  “I shall see you shortly and not delay dinner a moment longer.” Coal quietly shut his door and faced his room. He licked his dry lips and took in the mess, embarrassed that another was responsible for cleaning up after his choices. Nevertheless, he moved into the restroom and adjusted the light.

  The shower turned on with a push of a button and he marveled at the ingenuity of modern plumbing for a moment before undressing and entering the luxurious stream of instantly warmed water, calibrated to a temperature he preferred. Toilets and showers were, by far, his favorite Outsider technologies. Several minutes later, he reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out onto a rug, wrapping a towel around his mid-section. The looking glass fogged, but no matter. He was used to grooming without the aid of a reflection.

  As he ran a comb through his hair, he thought over the dragon story with swelling concern. There was something off-putting about Hanley Nichols, and yet his charismatic presence dulled any forming concerns. Coal could not help but become engrossed by his storytelling. Listening to his father’s friend made him almost forget how he had been mistreated since his arrival.

  Was the story to gain trust?

  Or
did Hanley honestly care about his wellbeing?

  Coal puffed out his cheeks and slowly exhaled while he examined the small space, resolved to meditate upon happier thoughts. He turned toward where he left this garments and started when his tunic and breeches were nowhere to be found in the restroom.

  Did Rosa enter while he showered and remove his garments?

  Heat trickled through his body and he slowly faced the door, turning the knob as quietly as possible. The door inched open with a creak and he peeped through the crack. A woman with dark hair tied up and wearing an overly tight tunic and breeches on her slim figure held a bizarre machine that suctioned away small objects. He watched in surreal fascination as the substance from his pillow disappeared.

  “Are you freshened?” the woman asked, moving her head his direction. The movements were fluid but contained an unnatural grace that triggered instant trepidation. Her glassy eyes fixated on his face and her mouth moved with precision as she asked, “Do you feel better?”

  “Yes, thank you Madam.” Coal lowered his head, his pulse hammering in his chest. “Where are my garments?”

  “I am laundering them for you. May I bring you clean items?” She blinked, but it was strangely slow. “Your blood pressure is dangerously high. Do you feel lightheaded or dizzy?”

  “How ... how do you know of such things with a mere glance?”

  She responded with a throaty laugh. “I am programmed to read vitals, Coal Hansen. You are in the system. I put new clothing in the dresser for you. May I bring you clean pants and a shirt?”