Dazzle Ships

by E. E. Isherwood

  They’d move for a second, then halt as if shocked.

  They’d move some more. Shock. Frozen.

  I couldn’t bear to look at them for long. Not once I saw how their skin had been blackened and their eyes were gone. The electricity kept them in that middle ground between dead and alive, even though I recognized them as the same sort of dead people I'd encountered in the cemetery and on the Outside. It was a terrible fate for anyone.

  I pulled myself tighter on the slippery wires until I was satisfied I could hold myself there. About a second later the jet sprayed directly at me and sent me flying with the wires higher toward the ceiling. I hung on for my life as the water crushed against me for all of a second. When it moved on to its next station I dropped back to where I was. Absolutely soaked, but otherwise unharmed.

  “Well, at least I’ll fit right in when I die.” Below me I realized how true that was. As the drops of water ceased and the jet spray moved onto other points, I got a good look at the men and women. At least one wore the white skirt of a sister. One or two wore the gray jumpsuit common among workers in the Complex. At least one wore the same pants and tank top as I had on. A few could have been Young Guard.

  The dead below were all members of our respective tribes. Our home bunkers.

  I grabbed hold of some more of the wires and pulled myself upward toward the ceiling. I was able to make pretty good time. Enough so that when the jet blast came back around I was able to grip the wires attached directly to the ceiling, keeping me from flailing around.

  I reached for another wire when I felt the buzz of a current through my hand.

  I snapped back as if bitten. Which I was, a little. I held out the tingly hand, content to see it wasn’t mangled and singed as I expected. But there would be no more hanging from the ceiling, at least not closer to my destination.

  I studied my situation with ever greater fear. I couldn’t go lengthwise along the chamber because the wires were too dangerous. Even if I’d managed to pass a turbine or two, the one that was really sparking was clearly linked into the wiring on the ceiling in some way. The sparks ahead proved that, even if I wasn’t being burned in that spot.

  Each turbine was connected by some wires to the ceiling. None of them looked permanent, or like they’d been intended by the builders. They seemed somehow temporary.

  If I was daring I would slide down out of the tangle of wires and find the few that went to the tippy top of turbine number two in the line. It would get me past the jet spray without getting too close to the sparking fourth turbine. Yet the wires didn’t seem very reliable. They hung limply as they linked the bundle on the roof with that unit.

  The wires attached to turbine three seemed taut by comparison, but it was closer to the spark show. I thought of dropping into the water by accident. No matter where I went down, the current was coursing through the water throughout the chamber.

  You die no matter where you fall in.

  I sighed. I couldn’t live out my life in the tangle of wires.

  I crawled my way through the mess, upset that my staff would often get me caught up when loops caught on the end. It was slow going until I was near where I could say with certainty I’d found the right wire. The one that linked to the top of turbine number two in the line.

  I used my scarf as makeshift gloves as I gripped the plastic-coated wiring. It was soaked from being sprayed, but I knew from using ropes during climbs my hands were going to scream if I tried to slide down without some sort of protection on them.

  I watched the room for many minutes as I considered if I was about to make a mistake. The eerie sound of the electrical current cutting through the air was only drowned out when the spray of the broken turbine shot directly on me. It was hypnotic, at least until I wondered if the water shooting up would create a direct link between me and the water below when it went back down. Those sparkies really left an impression on me.

  I decided my only course of action was the direct one.

  I gripped my scarf over the wire and I aimed my body down to the top of the next turbine. From there it would be a few easy jumps between the rest of the turbines and I’d be home free.

  Naturally when I got going it became clear what a mistake I’d made.

  Oh, crap.

  I fell right for the water.

  6

  The slide happened for me in slow motion. I saw how the slack was increasing as I got closer to the turbine, and I gripped the wire as hard as I was able. My training in climbing may have helped a little, but I kept descending nonetheless.

  The shocked souls alternated between thrashing and freezing below me as I neared.

  I wanted to scream but was too busy trying to mush my shoes together on the wire below me to further curb my speed. I did finally let out a yelp as I reached the last few feet above the water. The wire reached its limit and rebounded up as the last of the slack was finally removed.

  Then part of the wire tore from an anchor on the ceiling.

  I fell another foot and a spray of water doused me as the broken turbine shot water all around me.

  And finally things leveled out. I hugged the wire like I'd never see it again as I hung just above the water. I was at the bottom of a big letter U.

  Climb, girl.

  I took a peek below me. Too many bodies were close, all of them in various poses lying in the shallow water. I wondered why they didn’t try to get out. Any one of them could easily stand in the water.

  I came down the wire feet first, expecting to plant them on the turbine as I arrived. Now my feet were closest to the machinery, but I needed to go ten feet up the wire before I could grab the edge and pull myself the final way to the top.

  I was sure the wire was going to pull free of the ceiling—or pop off the turbine—at any second.

  As a test, I tried to slide myself feet-first up the cable. I’d never tried such a thing in any of my climbs, nor had I seen anyone do it. I quickly determined it wasn’t possible.

  Next, I tried to slide backward so my head and upper body would go up the wire where I’d come down. When I had the clearance I was going to try to spin myself so I could slide back down head-first.

  That is, until I saw the arms reaching out of the water. Somehow the dead bodies sensed someone was above them. There was no other way to put it. I was sure between the jolts of electricity hitting the water more of the things had gotten near to me.

  Okay, lets try this again.

  I searched my confused past. In a distant corner of a remote memory I was in a gym—training for something. I saw a young man climb a rope backwards. At the time I didn’t pay much attention because it seemed like a trick more than a skill.

  I was already hanging with both legs draped over the wire. I did my best to remove my scarf from my hands so I could get a better grip on the cable.

  The first few pulls were easy, and I quickly made it to a point where I was almost upside down. My feet were above me on the wire. I cursed myself for not tending to my hair. It hung below me and may have even touched the water. I didn’t know for certain if the current could pass through my locks.

  The creatures below had indeed gathered. It was horrible to watch them converge. Eyeless and condemned to endure such suffering forever.

  I pulled again. This time it took much more effort. I went six inches up the cable.

  My weight caused the wire to bunch up nearest the turbine, which made it an almost vertical climb up the side of the metal housing. I adjusted my feet and reached for the next length of wire so I could grip it and pull again.

  Something grabbed my hair—only for an instant.

  Oh, God!

  I pulled on the rope.

  I imagined I was in that gym from my memory. Safe. Testing myself on the rope in front of a friendly crowd of semi-interested gym patrons instead of grabby-handed dead people with empty eyes.

  I opened my eyes after three or four more pulls up the cable. Below me the dead had congregated like they could
smell me. A few were on their knees, well out of the water. Reaching up to where I just was. If one of them got to its feet it could still reach me.

  Another pull and I slid an inch back down. My hands were getting tired.

  Above me, too far, I could envision myself grabbing the lip at the edge of the turbine so I could pull myself aboard.

  Another pull. I started to tear up—I hated the feeling—but the pain was growing faster than I could control it. It started in my hands but radiated to my forearms. Then my thighs, of all places. I was clenching every muscle in my legs holding the wire between my shoes. Trying to take some of the pressure from my hands.

  But it was the hands getting me up there.

  I pulled again, crying out in pain.

  “You can do it, girl,” Reba called out from below. I was back on the climbing wall. Trying to reach that bell.

  I ignored the eventual failure and concentrated on the cheers and good will of my fellow classmates.

  He nodded to one of them.

  I slid down the wire a few inches. The burn was intense.

  I screamed as I pulled three times in quick succession. I didn’t have much left in me. My shoulders were the latest muscles and joints to complain of the abuse.

  My head swam as the blood pooled there. I felt strange. Light-headed.

  Pull again. One more time!

  I can do it. I can do anything.

  I pulled.

  The lip was inches away. But to get to it I had to let something go from the cable.

  I chose my foot. I dropped a foot and reached for the edge. I wasn’t going to make it so I pulled one more time—screaming from my heart—until the heel of my foot caught the lip.

  I adjusted myself and used my foot to take off some of the pressure from the rest of my body.

  Water sprayed over me from the broken turbine, but I ignored it.

  My staff was heavy on my back. It could have easily gone over my head and dropped into the water below. I would almost have allowed it to fall if it would have given me a moment’s freedom from pain.

  I let my other foot fall. Together my feet gave me stability.

  Pulling on the wire became mercifully easier. I walked the heels of my feet onto the top of the turbine while at the same time pulling with my hands. Each pull got easier until I was able to let go of the wire and hug the ugly metal of the humming generator.

  I couldn’t stop the tears, but they switched from pain to pride in a heartbeat once I was safe.

  As I lay there appreciating being alive, the only thought I had was that if I was back on that climbing wall—with a second chance—I would have done everything exactly the same. Failing at that test was what had kept me alive. It put a fire in my belly that I might not have had otherwise.

  I had something left to prove.

  “You just did, girl. Nice work.”

  I lay there talking to myself, ignoring the buzz of electricity and jet of water sloshing all over the place. It was enough to be alive, even in such chaos.

  Chapter 10

  I sprawled out on the chassis of the turbine for a long time. My body begged me to let it fall asleep, and I found the overwhelming commotion elsewhere in the room to be oddly soothing. But I knew I had a mission to complete.

  Get up!

  I got onto my jelly legs. I stood facing the direction I needed to go, so I was surprised when I was soaked again by the jet spray.

  There were six turbines in a line. All but the first were connected by a small metal walkway. From above I was anticipating jumping from one to the next, but the scale of the room made it hard to appreciate the size of the turbines until I was right up on one.

  The first generator had once had the same walkway but it was now lying in a twisted heap against the nearby wall. The powerful spray had blown it clean off. I’d been lucky, I decided, because if I’d landed on that first one I wouldn’t have been able to get to the second. I might not have been able to get back to the safety of the elevator, either.

  Everything happens for a reason.

  The distant echo of a memory made some sense.

  It took me much longer than it should have, but I made my way along the raised platform from one machine to the next. The ones that were busted—and throwing massive sparks—were where I was the most cautious, but the builders had thought of everything. There were huge rubber shields under the walkway where they linked with each station. I guessed they figured eventually something like this would happen.

  “Someday we believe one of the turbines will become defective, the chamber will fill with water, and shutdown will become impossible because of all the dead people blocking the way.”

  I chuckled at the impossibility of it all.

  When I reached the far end I appreciated the difficulty facing even the all-powerful intelligence watching over the dam. Meg told me why I had to do this favor for her.

  This.

  The end of the chamber was the final home to a dozen broken down drones and robots. Most were in the water like they’d been discarded there by a petulant child at the pool. Those with fan rotors seemed most out of place. They must have crashed. One had multiple legs like a little version of the spider Alex and I encountered, but it was tangled in the metal staircase risers like it had put its feet through and couldn’t get them back out.

  Meg tried to do this herself.

  I laughed. “Some jobs were meant for good old-fashioned people.”

  The end of the service walkway deposited me at an intersection with the staircase up to the control room. The red light blinked nearby as confirmation. It was a simple matter of picking a path through the abandoned spider and getting up to the balcony in front of my destination.

  Yet more evidence of Meg’s efforts stared me in the face as I reached the door off to the side. I couldn’t see into the control booth through the large glass window, but if I could walk through the side door I could gain access to that room in moments.

  Another drone had come to a rest in front of the door. It had a single rotor on its top and sat like a tall tripod. One thin arm held what had to be a kind of torch. It had burned several holes in the door and its frame, but it couldn’t penetrate it. The lock had been blasted several times, but the door itself was quite thick.

  I ignored the multiple shriveled severed hands on the floor in front of the door. Meg explained one of the protocols locking the doors had to do with the touch of human operators. As instructed, I put my finger upon the touch pad, pressed a series of numbers on a keypad, and the door swung inward like it had been waiting for me.

  The stink of the room wafted out and I shuddered.

  “You didn’t say there’d be dead people inside,” I yelled, not sure if Meg could hear me. The stench was unmistakable.

  I unfurled my staff, glad to have it back where I felt most comfortable. It wasn’t glowing as much as I’d have liked, so I spun it with vigor in front of me to light it up. I flicked on my gauntlet light for good measure.

  But all that was for nothing. The moment I set foot inside, all the lights turned on.

  I laughed at how things worked out, saving the gauntlet for another time. I still held the staff, sure the dead people would soon be upon me as I got inside.

  The door swung closed, causing me to jump in surprise.

  “You are here,” Meg advised. “Please proceed to the rear wall. A series of mechanical levers will become visible.”

  I intended to walk as I was told, but the dead bodies stopped me.

  “Do not hesitate. Please proceed,” the soft voice suggested.

  There were at least six large men in the room, each at one of the workstations. They wore strange outfits of gray and tan with the two colors mixed together with flecks of white and black. I imagined them as another faction—another tribe—though I couldn’t recall seeing any of them in the water outside.

  I took another step.

  “Wow!”

  The nearest man had placed a complicated-l
ooking rifle on the desktop in front of him.

  “Please continue,” Meg said with a touch of impatience.

  “I’m going,” I said in a distracted voice. I wanted a better look at the other men. After losing my shotgun I figured this was an excellent time to fix that mistake.

  A pair of the men were in the middle of the room, sitting in chairs next to each other.

  One was a slight bit smaller, and I realized it was a woman. Her hair was tucked neatly under her gray hat. She had a little gun on her hip, which struck me as funny compared to the larger guns lying around. The man next to her had a gun very similar to other big weapon.

  I was admiring the guns—they held a strange fascination—but I stopped that when I saw what the two people were doing when they died.

  A little box with a big antenna had been placed in front of them. They were listening to the radio.

  A military unit.

  Yes! Though I didn’t recognize the uniforms, I could recall soldiers of the United States Army from those memories around the collapse.

  This group had come into this room and apparently held out against Meg and her robots—but then died while they sat in their chairs. I carefully unhooked the gun from the woman’s leg—accidentally poking into the chunky meat of her leg. It was still firm.

  I got the gun free and stepped back a few paces.

  “Meg, what happened here?”

  I left the couple in peace and did a cursory look at the rest of the soldiers. They all appeared to have died in their chairs. Either they were prepared to die in place, or they’d been surprised by it.

  “Meg?”

  She’s not sure about your intentions.

  That time the voice in my head was not my own.

  Who are you?

  2

  I didn’t get an answer, but the soldiers jumped to life. I screamed like a little girl—I really hated that was my automatic response to fear—and jumped back a suitable distance.

  The couple in the chair reanimated and turned to me with dead eyes. The woman’s eyes were black. The man’s were … black. They weren’t old and crusty like proper walkies, but they weren't fresh, either. Unused was the best quality I could give them.