by Ann Bakshis
Chapter 8
My brothers and sisters thrash around me as they burn, heal, and burn again. The woman on the other side is trying desperately to open the door, but it’s biometrically coded to open only for the instructors, and she appears to not have access. I cry out for the first time, my voice only a squeak. After sliding down onto the searing hot floor, I place my fingers beneath the threshold and feel her soothing touch as she grabs my fingers tightly, squeezing as if on a life line, but I feel her slipping away, leaving me alone to die.
Minutes seem to pass before I hear the popping noises of the metal door as it’s forced open. Glass rains down as the window shatters from above. I’m yanked through the opening, my small body lifted into the air. The woman carrying me rushes down the dark hallway; blue lights flashing all around. I see others run down the same passageway, some in white uniforms, and others in orange, but I can’t see the face of the woman carrying me as she has placed me up against her shoulder. I can only see the color of her white uniform, which comforts me.
The sheets are soaked in sweat when I awake. I don’t get the chance to change out of my wet clothes before there is a knock on my door. Without answering, it flies open and is filled with Artemis’ guards. They take hold of my arms, secure me in restraints, and escort me downstairs into the cellar.
To the left of the staircase lie several massive wine racks that extend along the entire length of the house; to the right is a maple door, partially open. My guards nudge me through the opening and into a very bright interior. Sitting in the center of the room is a black suede lounge chair. Next to that sit several small metal trays loaded down with instruments I’ve never seen before. A scale sits in the far left corner, next to a set of glass-inlaid cabinets. The man I saw yesterday with the medical bag is busy at his desk going over some paperwork. He looks up, glasses sliding down his long nose as we enter the room. He nods at the guards, who remove my restraints before leaving. He gestures for me to have a seat on the chair once the door is closed.
He carefully arranges his instruments on the trays then moves to the cabinets behind me and takes out a thin gown. From somewhere in my memory, he seems familiar. I recognize his elongated face, the slight hunch he has as he walks, and the short grayish hair that must once have been brown, though I’m still not sure how I know him.
He walks over to me, shines a small light into my eyes, and requests that I hold my head still while slowly moving the light from one eye to the next, perhaps watching for some kind of reaction. He changes instruments, coming up with a long cylinder with an eyepiece on the end. Switching on the tiny bulb inside, he leans close into my left eye, placing his hand on the top of my head to steady me.
“I know you,” I state, while not looking away from the brightness that is temporarily blinding me.
“I was wondering if you might,” he replies back in a soft voice moving to examine my right eye.
“How?”
“Not here,” he whispers.
He hands me the gown and asks me to change into it, removing my clothing, including the covering on my arm. I hesitantly undress except for the sleeve. He doesn’t say anything at my refusal to show my bare arm, but instead continues his examination of me. I’ve never been to a physician in my life, but his familiarity makes it easier. He has me dress, then walks me up the stairs and outside. The first building we come to at the bottom of the hill is full of exercise equipment. Two of the machines are currently in use, both by women. The physician has me move to a machine at the far end of the room, where I run for thirty minutes. He checks my pulse and heart rate as I go. The next machine he moves me to measures my leg and arm strength. After two hours, he escorts me back to my room where I’m locked away again.
The next day I’m brought down again in the same fashion for more tests, where I’m poked many times with several different syringes, all taking fluids, but none injecting any. I’ve not eaten in two days and according to the physician my nutrition levels are low, so he orders Artemis to provide me several meals a day. I have to eat in my room, leaving my tray at the foot of my bed when I’m finished. On my fourth day of confinement, my guards bring me down again to be examined. This time the physician doesn’t hand me a gown. The instruments have been cleared from their metal trays, and only the lounge chair remains undisturbed. My restraints are removed and the guards leave as I sit on the chair, dreading what is planned for today.
“Meg, I need to look at your arm.”
I grip my right arm with my left, afraid of what his reaction might be.
“Meg, I need you to trust me. Please.”
His soft gray eyes are disarming.
I remove the Velcro straps and slide down the covering, laying it beside me. He slides his glasses closer to his eyes as they have slipped down, takes my arm gently in his hands, and begins to examine the wound. He concentrates mainly on the Quantum Stream running the length of my arm before scrutinizing the two tiny holes in my palm, followed by a look at the exit wound on my back. He walks over to one of the cabinets, opens a drawer, and removes a tiny syringe. Lifting my arm, he rests my palm against his shoulder. He takes the needle and attempts to insert it into the stream, which causes my arm to tingle, becoming extremely hot at the intrusion. The needle disintegrates and the plastic casing of the syringe melts in his hands. He goes over to the sink to wash the residue off while I secure the sleeve back on my arm.
“I should’ve expected that kind of reaction,” he says as he returns, taking a seat next to me on the chair. “So, how do you like it here?”
“How do you think? I hate it. I can’t stand being confined to that room.”
He is about to respond when there is a knock at the door. He gets up and lets Artemis into the room, shaking the man’s hand as he enters.
“So,” Artemis begins, clapping his hands together, “how is our little warrior?”
I open my mouth to express my displeasure at the situation, but the physician quickly waves me down by placing his hand on my shoulder.
“She needs exercise, Artemis, lots of running. I suggest you let her wander the property, hike some of the trails. This isolation is not good for her.”
“Okay,” he says, nodding his head slightly, “I’ll let her, on one condition. She wears a monitoring ring around both wrists.”
The physician looks at me with a pleading expression.
“Fine,” I reply, gritting my teeth.
“Now, about her arm,” Artemis begins, walking over to me, picking up my arm as if to examine it.
“It’s severely injured. No amount of Quarum could restore it, as the injury is too old. It must have happened as a child.”
Artemis meditates a few moments with this news then summons the guards from the hallway into the room. Before I’m escorted out, I’m fitted with two thin black bracelets, one for each wrist. I’m warned not to wander past the boundary lines because if I do I will be brutally shocked, and locked away. Artemis does permit me to go up to my room and change my clothes before I go outside. I’m provided with a new pair of running shoes and socks, put my hair up into a ponytail, and leave the house.
After breakfast each morning, I spend most of my days jogging down hiking paths that lead up into the mountains. The air gets thinner the higher I go. I push farther up each day, looking to see where the property line ends, but the land seems to go on indefinitely. Besides running, I begin practicing climbing, first the trees, then the face of the mountain. I fall many times from small heights, but get right back up and continue. I also start to practice jumping from great distances, mainly from boulder to boulder at the base of the mountain.
At night the same dream haunts me. I can’t seem to move past the scene of my rescue from the inferno. The screaming from the children invades my thoughts. I’m beginning to think these nightmares are my memories slowly restoring themselves, allowing me a glimpse into the horror of my childhood.
I no longer cry each night, but have chosen to accept my fate, at l
east for the moment. Anger is my driving force, the device that is keeping me alive.
A month into my imprisonment I find a nice outlook to rest on. My afternoons are spent perched up high, over-looking the ranch below and out into the unknown. Several times I stay until nightfall so I can watch the stars come out. The temperature drops, but I stay until the moon is almost directly overhead. I’m not only sightseeing from my vantage point, but I’m also studying the layout of Artemis’ compound.
There is only one road in, and the whole complex is surrounded by sparse trees, lots of rocks, and tall grasses. I don’t see any possible way of escape except through the mountain, but the air is too thin at the top to allow me to climb over to the other side.
One morning, in my second month of captivity, I run into the physician as I walk past the practice ring on the way to my favorite jogging path. He is busy getting the fighters prepared for their next contest, which they leave for the following morning. Of the five, only two have ever been to a contest, one of them is Matt. I do some stretching before I begin as I notice the physician walking over to me, so I prolong my warm-up to give him time to get to my location.
“Walk with me,” he says, continuing down the path.
We walk together at a steady pace, waiting for the other one to speak.
“Have you figured out why I seem familiar to you yet?” he finally asks, breaking the long silence.
I shake my head, which causes him to frown.
“Antaeans have great memories,” he begins. “It was known that an Antaean could begin collecting memories as early as three months. I know this because that is how I designed them.”
“You’re one of the researchers from the Dormitories,” I say, more as an acknowledgement than a question.
“Yes, Meg, I was. I’m also one of the few researchers who made it out of there alive.”
I think of Devlan’s last comment. He would be very disappointed at the predicament I’ve gotten myself into.
I start to believe that his death was in vain.
“How did you know what would happen with my arm a while back?”
“I didn’t actually, it was more of a hunch that I wanted to test. We knew how your body was supposed to behave when the stimulant was introduced, but we could never get it to work properly. Tell me, how did your stream come about?”
I explain to him some of the events that have transpired, including Devlan’s death. He is saddened by the news. We change direction and begin heading back towards the house. As we get closer, the physician grabs my arm and spins me around to face him.
“Whatever you do, don’t let Artemis see your arm. If he realizes your full abilities it will be disastrous and not just in regards to you. Many have died trying to locate the Antaeans and the cities will stop at nothing to find them all. You are a threat to them and they will do anything possible to either control you or eliminate you. Artemis is planning on taking you into Tyre tomorrow with the other fighters, so be careful. I won’t be going, as there are physicians at the stadium where the contests are held, and Artemis has received word that new prospects have been acquired that need tending to.”
He wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly. We eventually part and he walks back to the fighters. I turn and run back down the path, trying to clear my head.
Chapter 9
The next morning, I’m greeted by a hot breakfast, and Artemis sitting at the foot of my bed.
“Morning, Trea,” he smiles at me. “We’ll be leaving for Tyre in an hour. Your clothing for the journey is hanging up in the bathroom, so eat up quickly and get dressed, and I will send someone to get you.”
I place my tray of dirty dishes on top of the dresser after eating and go into the bathroom. The clothes Artemis has chosen for me are hanging on the back of the door; a pair of black leather shorts with a matching jacket, a black rayon tank, and a clean pair of socks. My footwear consists of knee high boots made of the same material as the jacket, and of the same color. I take a quick shower, put on clean under-garments then don my new apparel before brushing my hair and putting it up into my usual ponytail.
There is a knock at my door, but it’s only a courtesy as my door opens before I respond. One of the bodyguards comes in announcing that it’s time to leave. He removes my bracelets, escorts me down the stairs, out the front door, and through the courtyard to an awaiting transport. It resembles a smaller version of the shuttle, consisting of only one car that is not running on a rail but on wheels made of metal. I’m ordered to move all the way to the back where the others have already taken their seats.
As I sit in between two of the fighters, one named Corinna and the other named Raven, I notice the five fighters are dressed in brown cotton pants, beige twill shirts, and brown boots. Glancing around the small cabin I spy Matt glaring at me. I ignore him, focusing my attention on the window behind the fighter who is sitting directly in front of me.
As soon as Artemis boards, the engine starts and begins sending power down the length of the car switching the windows on. Transforming the scattered grasses and rocks that cover the front part of the property to a picturesque landscape of thick pine trees, blanketing a rugged mountainous backdrop, accompanied by sounds of chirping birds.
I wonder why the need for such deception. What are the High Rulers afraid of people seeing?
I have trouble telling which direction we are heading since I don’t have a reference point to view outside. We’re about three hours into our trip when we slow down and come to a halt. I hear the hiss of the doors as they open, sliding outside along the length of the vehicle and a man boards, dressed in a Regulator’s uniform: a starched blue dress shirt, a heavy dark blue coat with an hour glass symbol sown onto each lapel, matching pants, a thick black belt with several holsters, a pair of shiny black shoes, and a blue semi-round hat that has a Tyrean bull and red cape badge attached to a small leather band just above the brim. The man paces the interior, scanning everything with a small device in his hand, touching nothing.
Artemis speaks to another person up front, addressing him by name, and inquiring about his family. The Regulator departs, the doors close, and we move forward then stop. There’s a soft clicking sound, causing the car to vibrate faintly. The vehicle makes another slight jerk forward, settles downward, and begins to glide. We have now connected to a set of rails for the shuttle system.
The scenery on the windows slowly changes from mountains to lower highlands. I try to look out through the window in front of Artemis, but there is some sort of thin veil between him and us, preventing me from gaining any clear glimpses. Another hour passes before we come to a stop. The doors open and another Regulator boards. This time the power is shut down so they can inspect the undercarriage.
I look out of the windows and see we are in a transportation center. Many people are walking about the platform, with several shuttles loading and unloading passengers. The interior is constructed of the same white titanium as the oasis, including the ceiling with its artificial sunlight. No one pays much attention to us as the Regulators inspect every inch of the interior and exterior of our car. As soon as we are cleared, the car lowers back onto the rail and the engine turns on, however this time the windows don’t change as we move forward, coasting past other shuttles, down the white interior, and out into the open.
I’m first struck by the brightness of the city as lights slowly turn on inside the tall structures that envelop us. The sun appears to be setting, as the sky above has a slight pink tint to the fading blue. We slide past buildings constructed of polished steel and blue tinted windows. Sidewalks scattered with residents sit along either side of us. Apparently the rail system in the city is not elevated like it is out in the Wasteland.
We come to an interchange, switch rails, and begin heading to our right, moving around the city instead of through it. Every inch is covered in concrete and skyscrapers. The only evidence of greenery consists of either large potted plants or sporadic palm trees strategically
placed along the rail line. We pass through another interchange, then slow as we are diverted onto another rail that takes us underneath one of the high-rises, before coming to a stop. Artemis exits out of his door just as ours opens. Matt and the others get up, and I follow.
As we stand on the platform, our shuttle moves off down the rail. Artemis leads us to an elevator marked express. When the doors open, we step on board as Artemis pushes the last button at the top. Once the doors are closed we are quickly whisked skyward. The walls of the enclosure are glass, so we are able to observe the lobby briefly as we ascend. The floors fly past almost at a blur. There are several other elevator shafts surrounding ours, moving up and down in a bizarre dance in the center of the building. We soon reach the top level, popping up through the floor.
“Welcome to The Letchworth,” Artemis announces, giving a mocking bow to us as we exit the elevator.
Matt lumbers past, knocking me slightly as he goes. He walks around the glass enclosure of the elevator towards a set of doors on the other side, and slams them loudly behind him. Corinna and Raven giggle as they prance over the hardwood floors to the living room, where they both lean against the windows, looking down at the scenery below. The other two fighters, Aidan and Wes, go off to another room at the far left of the entrance. I stay standing just outside the elevator, taking in the place.
The apartment is completely circular, the elevator shaft being the core. The living room lies in front of me, the kitchen and dining room are off to my left. The only walls are for room separation at the back of the apartment, where I assume the bedrooms and bathrooms are located. Thick white columns encircle the space, probably used more for support than aesthetics. The floor is light colored hardwood and the walls a pale rose. The apartment is furnished with overstuffed couches and chairs, many teak wood tables, and several marble statues.