by Ann Bakshis
Upon my return I notice that everyone has left and the building is locked. I park the bike back into its stall, drink water from the shower head to quench my thirst, crawl up the ladder to the loft, and see Quin sitting on my mattress. I grab my gun and aim at his face.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Is this how you greet everyone?”
“Only those who have a death wish.”
“Rena told me about what happened to you and your dad. Sorry,” he says, with a quiet, somewhat reserved tone.
I stare at him waiting for the punch line, but he seems to be sincere.
“Did you know Devlan?” I ask, relaxing a bit.
“No not really. I would see him sometimes when he came here, but he was always very secretive.” He clears his throat as if he had swallowed sand.
I sense he’s hiding something. I’m not in the mood to ask, so I continue to stare at him, waiting for him to say something. Instead, he reaches under the blanket and pulls out a plate of sandwiches.
“Rena made these for you in case you returned.”
I sit down opposite him and hesitantly begin eating. I only eat a couple then offer Quin the rest. He takes a sandwich, eyeing my right arm.
“What happened?”
“It was injured in the attack.”
“Do you want me to take a look at it? I’ve mended plenty of wounds…mainly my own.”
“No thanks, it’s healing just fine.”
I want to ask him about his knee, however I resist the urge in fear it will cause an angry response.
When I finish eating, he takes my plate, says goodnight, and leaves. I crawl over to the opening and watch as he goes into the house with a key, exits a few minutes later walking to the back of the house, and then leaves in his truck. I stuff the Beta gun back into its spot, remove the tablet from the hay bale, and press my palm onto the screen, which turns blue scanning my print while I sit with by back against the wall, my knees bent as I anxiously await five minutes until the tablet comes back on.
Devlan’s voice begins to speak though the screen remains blank.
“Finally a compromise was reached that the Dormitories, as the settlement was to be called, would be constructed in the northern province of the Wasteland between Tyre and Acheron. Nuceira didn’t want to contribute to the undertaking as they felt it was too dangerous, and they didn’t have the wealth and resources that the other two cities had, but they eventually succumbed to pressure and allocated some of its people to work at the completed structure.”
The screen finally comes alive with an aerial view of a large complex of buildings out in the middle of a vast forest valley floor. I’d always viewed the Wasteland as nothing but sand and heat, but now I’m wondering if the terrain varies depending upon which direction you go.
The campus of buildings is quite extensive, consisting of five large circular structures sitting in the center, encompassing a manmade pool with a fountain in the middle. There don’t appear to be any roads except for one at the south end of the heavily guarded complex. The gate onto the grounds is a mile away, lined with large trees to obstruct the view of anyone that might be passing by. The rest of the land is covered in concrete sidewalks with a few trees and small ponds that look to have been created more for aesthetics, not utility. The remaining buildings on the grounds are smaller and grouped in threes, producing triangular patterns with spindle-like pathways to the larger buildings in the center.
“At first, the doctors at the Dormitories took volunteers, mainly Regulators, to test new weapons and experiment on to enhance their fighting ability. Many died, went mad, or were seriously deformed, so when the volunteers stopped coming, the cities resorted to using their convicts. Two came out of the initial project as super soldiers, however they reverted back to their criminal personalities and were executed. After several years, it was determined that to build a perfect warrior, they would need to start from scratch…the point before a human being is actually created.”
The picture dissolves into another showing men and women huddled together over a large work table.
“Since childbirth is heavily regulated, the cities offered incentives to women who voluntarily underwent a procedure to remove their ovaries. They were paid handsomely, and the flyers they distributed touted the fact that they were contributing to the safety and security of Sirain. Many women took the cities up on their offer; Regulators were forced to contribute to the cause by donating their sperm. Out of the millions of embryos generated, only fifty thousand survived the regimen they were put through.”
The image changes to a sizeable room containing shelves lined with thousands of vessels, all hooked up to machines feeding the embryos.
Then the screen goes black.
I place the tablet in the satchel, lie down, and clutch the blanket up to my chest. I’m beginning to understand where I may fit into this picture, and the thought sickens me.
Chapter 5
“Meg…Meg wake up,” I hear someone shout off in the distance as the loft begins to shake. I reach into the space between the hay bales, remove the Beta gun, and aim it at Quin who has just reached the top of the ladder. “Well, good morning to you too,” he says, with a half-smile on his face.
“Sorry, old habit,” I say, as I put the gun back, sit up, and rub my eyes trying to remove the sleep that still sits behind them. “What time is it?”
“Five,” he announces. “Feel like a run?”
I nod, then promptly kick him out of the barn so I can change my clothes.
We run three miles, then another five. On our third circuit, Quin decides to make it a competition. I win, but he says his knee is still bothering him. I roll my eyes and go to take a shower while he goes to help Terrance with breakfast. Rena comes by around seven and the four of us spend the day playing cards, drinking, and munching on scraps.
For someone who likes to get attention, Quin has barely spoken since earlier this morning. We need to keep bringing his focus back to the card game. His mind wanders a lot.
I wonder what his life has been like out here.
Around six, Terrance and Quin leave to handle an errand for Rena, who also departs a short time later. I head up the ladder to the loft and press my palm onto the tablet and wait.
A picture of the Dormitories fills the screen and Devlan begins where he left off.
“Training and conditioning was started as early as five years of age. The High Rulers wanted the soldiers to be prepared for combat as young as possible.”
The screen changes to images of babies growing into children then into adults; all muscular, agile, fast, and perfect.
“These soldiers were sent off to fight in remote areas of Sirain where pockets of resistance still lived. These men and women outperformed their predecessors, bringing adversaries to their knees in months instead of years. Then a new weapon was created by our enemies.”
This is the first time I’ve heard Devlan refer to the opposition as ‘our enemies’. I begin to wonder if he had anything to do with the Dormitories, and what went on there. More importantly, why he is suddenly siding with the cities? He drilled into my head that the cities are what we should fear, not that there was another adversary out there.
“This weapon had phenomenal power that would destroy our soldiers with one shot, causing immediate destruction of any body part that it encountered.”
The Levin gun, that had to be what he’s referring to.
“The Dormitories could not create soldiers fast enough to replenish the troops that were dying. One man risked his life to cross borders to bring back the technology and designs for our scientists to study to help create a defense against this destructive power.”
The image shifts to a young man about my height, black hair cropped short, thin, and frail. I recognize the eyes set deep in the man’s face. It’s Devlan.
“I was hailed a hero by many, but I didn’t see myself as one. I lost many friends to the wars our region fought, but I didn’t kn
ow I was going to be bringing the conflict to our own front door.”
The tablet shuts down.
This segment is a lot shorter than the others, only lasting five minutes.
I try to think if I’ve heard about any current fighting going on between the cities, but can’t remember any. My eyes grow weary, so I slide the tablet back into the satchel as I contemplate Devlan’s parting words.
I get up at five the following morning and do several three-mile runs, but this time I do them alone. Once back at the barn, I shower and change into a tank top, shorts, and my boots. When I enter the house, Rena is pacing back and forth, wringing her hands.
“Hi Rena,” I say, as I walk up to her.
At first she doesn’t appear to hear me, but as my voice registers with her mind she forcefully grabs my hands and starts panicking.
“Terrance and Quin didn’t come back. Have you seen them?”
I think hard, but I don’t remember hearing Quin’s truck returning last night.
“Maybe they did come back, but left again,” I lie, trying to calm her down.
She seems to consider my idea as her grip loosens. I guide her to the couch, get her a glass of water, and hand it to her as I kneel on the floor.
“What errand were they running for you?” I ask, as I help raise the glass to her lips.
“They were going to Oasis Eight to pick up a package for me. It should’ve only taken an hour at the most, but they’ve been gone all night,” she blubbers after swallowing.
I help her take another sip. “How do I get to Oasis Eight?”
Terror enters her eyes. She grabs my shoulders, dumping the water all over herself and me. “You can’t go there. No, I won’t let you,” she screams.
I gently remove her hands and place them onto her lap. “Rena, it’ll be okay. I just need you to tell me how to get to Oasis Eight.”
She slumps her shoulders, letting her depression take over. I leave her sitting on the couch while I head to the barn to retrieve my knife, motorbike, and satchel. I remove the contents except for the metal canisters with the Quarum and two detonators. I place the Beta gun in the satchel, but I leave the knife in my boot, put my hair up into a ponytail, pull the bike up to the porch, and go into the house to get a quick drink. Rena has moved from the couch and is now behind the bar drawing a map, along with directions on what to do once I get to Oasis Eight. Taking the paper, I study the map quickly and fold it, placing it into the satchel. Rena gives me a hard hug.
I head out of the Refuge and turn right at the abandoned highway.
According to the map, I will need to go thirty miles before I hit the security fence that surrounds Oasis Eight. The sky is overcast today, so I’m not competing with the heat from the sun, just the heat emanating from the ground. About a mile from the fence, I see an arrangement of boulders just off the left side of the road, so I slow down, pulling around the mound, and spot Quin’s truck hiding amongst the rocks. I park my bike next to it, and peer into the cab and the bed, which are both empty. Rena’s diagram indicates an entrance to a tunnel in the center of the boulders that will lead me to the other side of the fence and under Oasis Eight.
I see a crack between two of the stones and have to carefully squeeze myself through it, seeing the entrance exactly where it’s supposed to be, at the base of the formation. As I enter, I remember the tunnel at the house and wonder if both were created by the same hands, as the structures are identical except in size. This tunnel is much taller than the other. Down the dark passageway, I walk slowly using my hand as a guide, sliding it along the wall. The buzz of electricity hums as I go under the fence and into Tyrean territory.
My pulse begins to race as I see daylight ahead, but don’t know what awaits me on the other side. I try to mentally prepare myself for anything.
The tunnel ends, forcing me to climb up a ladder, but my path is blocked by a grate. I carefully look through the slates to see if there is anyone around, but the room it leads to is empty so I push up, quietly trying to remove the grate then pull myself up and out of the tunnel, replacing the grate before I have a look around.
I find myself a small utility closet. Light bulbs, electric brooms, and empty boxes lay scattered on the floor. Shelves lining the back wall contain toiletries, soaps, towels, and various scented lotions. I put my ear to the door and hear people walk by, announcements being made, and the low hiss of airbrakes of shuttles. I crack open the door and step out onto the bustling platform.
No one notices my sudden appearance as I walk with the flow of people who’ve exited one shuttle and are moving across the platform to another. I find a bench along the way and promptly sit down. Behind me the wall is paneled in glass, however the view behind it is a projection, not the real thing. Where I should see shrubs and desert, there is a lush landscape full of trees, glistening pools of water, and colorful birds flittering about.
The projected scenery is constant throughout the entire white metal structure. Wherever there’s a window, the image is of a continuous flow of greenery. I wonder if the windows on the shuttles are the same. Looking up at the ceiling I notice it’s as bright as the sun would be if it were out today.
The people walking by are in too much of a hurry to notice me. Many are smartly dressed in white linen suits, floral dresses, expensive furs, or blue uniforms with Regulator glasses hanging around their necks. Seeing the Regulators causes me to stand up and quickly rejoin the herd of people heading to the right. Halfway down the corridor I spot a large courtyard. I leave the pack and make my way to a large pool of water that is littered with coins of varying colors and sizes, some with the Tyre bull and others with the Acheron bird.
Large live palm trees line the square, jutting out from enclosed dirt mounds. The cities are creating a false outdoor setting to mask what the real world looks like, which makes me wonder what else they falsify to blind their people to reality. Sitting on the edge of the pool I pull out Rena’s map to see what my next task is. I notice a pair of older women approach the water with coins in hand ready to throw until they spot me. At first they seem frightened of me, perhaps disgusted by my appearance, as I obviously don’t belong there.
“Teenagers,” one of them mumbles, as she tosses her coin into the pool. The other woman follows suit, and they head back down the corridor.
Returning my gaze to Rena’s map, there is a circle indicated on the platform by the far end of the station. In small letters inside the circle is written Max. I walk to the other side of the courtyard to join the stream of people.
The corridor empties onto a large mezzanine full of shops, restaurants, and a brass door entrance to some condos that have For Sale signs next to empty nameplates. The smell of sweet-smelling pastries make me salivate and my stomach growl. I scan the restaurants to see if any of the staff have their names stitched onto their uniforms, but the outfits are too colorful to notice any identification.
I next move onto the shops that are loaded with expensive wares of varying size, color, and price. Glass baubles fill the windows, along with silk gowns and ornate jewelry.
How could anyone afford such things?
I feel completely out of my comfort zone in this area, but I need to find Max. I don’t see any more useful information so I crumple up the map, and shove it back into the satchel. Suddenly I feel myself being propelled forward, hands firmly pressed into my back, shoving me down the platform and into a women’s vanity room. I’m finally released after the door closes. Turning, I see a young girl behind me, finger to her lips indicating for me to stay quiet. She quickly moves from one stall to another, checking to see if anyone else is in here with us, then goes back to the door and locks it.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she yells at me. “Are you trying to draw attention to yourself or are you just that stupid?”
“You must be Max,” I say, my arms crossed over my chest.
“Rena sent you,” Max says, more as a statement than a question.
I nod my
head.
For the next minute, the two of us stand and stare at each other, taking in the other’s appearance.
Max is a few inches shorter than me, choppy blond hair with purple streaks, and a few freckles crossing her nose. Her outfit is a pink and white striped smock covering a white dress shirt and dress pants. I’d spotted her restocking shelves in the candy store. She couldn’t be more than fifteen.
“I’m looking for Quin and Terrance,” I say, as the silence is beginning to bug me.
“They were supposed to meet me last night, but never showed up. You don’t think they got taken, do you?” Her question seems more like a plea, but I pretend I didn’t notice it.
“Do you still have the package for Rena?”
“Um…yeah.” She reaches into the pocket of her smock and pulls out a small brown bundle.
I put the package into the satchel and leave her to her tears.
Unnecessary emotion is not something I’m used to, or know how to deal with.
I go back to the utility closet. After removing the grate, I slide through the opening, replace the grate, retreat down the tunnel, and squeeze myself through the crack in the rocks only to find Quin’s truck and my motorbike gone, again.
I want to scream or blast something, but I stop myself when I notice tire tracks in the hard ground, headed west, and not east towards the road. The depth of the tracks tells me they put my bike in the truck bed.
I follow the marks in the dried sand for several miles before they make a sudden left turn down an embankment and across a dry riverbed to a small one-level house. Behind the house I see a smaller building with a door on the front and a smaller door on the side. There’s no good place to sit and observe as the area is completely vacant of any vegetation and rock mounds. I decide to take my chances and hastily run up to the smaller building. As I’m half-way there, four men exit the front door of the house. I have nowhere to hide, so I quicken my pace and go behind the garage. They get into a truck idling a few feet away, and leave.