by K M Lovold
“Get going,” the guard barked.
Ian turned back to the guard and immediately followed him, gazing at his new surroundings. The ground was composed of dirt and rocks, rugged with a bit of sand. Every protruding rock could be felt through the ridiculous shoes he wore, but he couldn’t stop walking, even though he tried. With each step they took, fine powder puffed into the dry, dusty air.
A mountain range rose against a bright blue sky. The sun blasted down, and sweat dripped down his face and the back of his neck. The moon hung monstrous over the mountains, as if it was right there in front of him.
They climbed up a rocky hill and once they reached the top, several men and women came into view with a few buildings off in the background. Those he saw pounded on the mountain with hammers or spikes, causing dirt and dust to whirl around them endlessly and periodically block them from view.
The guard in front of Ian wore leather shirt, vest, and pants. Long leather boots came to just under his knees. A small radio device hitched onto his belt caught Ian’s eye.
They turned right onto a pathway walled with rocks on each side, and then left into a building with no door. Once in the building, they took several turns before entering a room with three beds, two of them occupied by men. The beds had grayed blankets and yellowed pillows. Urinal, toilet, built-in shelf, and drawers: the sum total of the room’s furnishings. Cracks spidered over the peeling cement wall.
“This is your bed. Your destination, Number 4158.” The man pressed his wristband again, turned abruptly, and strode out, his boots clomping and echoing on the rocky walls as he disappeared.
Ian stared at the man's back. That was it? No instructions?
Laughter brought his gaze around.
“Hello there, four-one-five-eight,” one of his bunk mates said. “Welcome to your new life.”
As quickly as Ian’s control had been taken from him, it returned. He let out a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair. “What the hell is going on here? Who are you?”
One of the men grabbed his long, rust-colored goatee and twisted it to a point on the bottom. “Careful on the cussing, new Reaman, you don’t wanna get in trouble on your first day. And you’re at your destination. Didn’t you know, Mr. Pristine, that the death penalty ain’t the death penalty for all? Oh, that’s what everyone thinks down in the good ole U. S. of A. on Earth, but they lie. You, Mr. Pristine, you’re on Reathran—the real death penalty.” The man laughed, revealing sporadic yellow teeth, as well as one dull silver tooth. Lines appeared on his face around his mouth as he smiled.
Ian gaped at the man, squeezing his hands in tight fists, and his stomach lurched. “What the hell are you talking about?” The guard had told him as much, but it seemed too unbelievable to be true.
“Careful on the cussing I said.” The man’s long red hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “This, Mr. 4158, is the death penalty. What they tell ya on Earth—about lethal injection and all that—ain’t the truth at all. Not for everyone. They just put you to sleep is what they do, and then after a while, you wake up. You wake up here, where they use ya to do the job they can’t do.” He spit on the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’re no-names, criminals. They don’t care if we die from radiation poisoning.”
Ian shook his head, trying with all his might to puzzle out what had gotten him here, but everything muddled together. He couldn’t remember anything before waking up on a spacecraft and arriving in this impossible and surreal place.
“It’ll all make sense to you in the days to come.”
Ian peered out the single window at mountains of rock. No grass, no trees, no nothing. Just rock and dust. “Explain this to me again. Where am I? And why? And for how long am I here?” Ian pressed the man who’d just spoken to him.
“New Reaman, breathe in and breathe out. Let the Reathran air fill your lungs, your body”—he pounded his chest with his hands—“and don’t worry, I’ll inform you of as much as I know, but it’s only so much. The guards are the ones who know it all, and they don’t spill.”
The other man in the cell who had remained silent thus far was black with long dreadlocks pulled in a ponytail. He sat on one of the beds, his back leaning against the dirty wall. He pounded a fist into the palm of his other hand. “You got that, Mr. Pristine? They don’t spill. They tell us nothing.” He had a trim moustache and beard, and smirked at Ian.
Ian nodded. “OK. OK. But… I had no idea there were other planets that were, like, livable.” Ian stared out the window at the rocky mountains. “For some reason, I feel like I should have known about this place. And why can’t I remember that much about myself?”
“It’s the chemical they just injected into ya.” The man with the red ponytail piped up. “That and what they injected into ya when they put you to sleep in the first place.” He spit again. “They know what they doin’ down there. You can’t believe the brilliance and the evilness of it ’til ya land here.” Then he stepped closer to him. “But you should be remembering that crime of yours by now, huh?”
“Careful.” The black man stood and approached the redhaired man. “Don’t be flapping at the mouth too much. Yeah, we have leeway ’cause we have the new one who don’t know nothin’, but don’t go overboard.”
The redhaired man shoved him off. “I won’t, I won’t. Don’t—”
“What crime? Why can’t I remember it?” Ian’s gaze bounced from the redhaired man to the black man. “It must’ve been bad if I—”
“First things first.” The redhaired man tipped his head to the side, then threw a large tan satchel at him. “No point in goin’ over everything now, ya just got here. It’ll all come back. Well… not all of it, but a few things. Mostly your crime memory. You just wait. Nothin’ll be clearer to ya than that.”
Ian held the satchel in front of him. “What’s this?”
“Your new wardrobe.” The black man smiled. “The only one you get. It’s up to you to keep it clean and decent smelling, although who the heck cares here, right, Jack?” He glanced up at his redheaded buddy.
Jack smiled, revealing his yellow teeth. “You got that right. I don’t care if you stink to high heaven.” His eyes rolled upwards.
Ian unbuckled the satchel and pulled out clothing identical to what the other guys were wearing.
“Here.” Jack tossed Ian a pair of leather boots. “We knew you was comin’ when they dropped off your satchel and boots. We’d been waiting for our number three, and you finally made it, new Reaman. You’d better get changed, then we’ll take ya out to your new life for the next… who the hell knows how long.” Jack put his fingers to his mouth in a mocking gesture. “Oops, like I said, no cussing, or you’ll pay for it.”
Ian changed his clothes, fighting the urge to ask more questions he wouldn’t get answers to.
He stared down at the clothes he now wore. They fit him perfectly, almost as if they were made just for him, including the boots.
“Let’s get a move on.” Jack started towards the doorway, and the black man jumped up, too.
“If this is a prison, why aren’t there doors or locks on anything?” Ian asked.
“Don’t need ’em.” Jack came to a halt and peered at Ian, his gray eyes squinting. “There’s no escaping Reathran. The entire planet is one big prison. Ears listening everywhere we go.”
As Ian stepped outside, a memory of walking through a different doorway flashed in his mind—only then he’d had handcuffs on his wrists, and he’d stared straight ahead at a gurney with nothing but straps… waiting for him.
****
Earth, years earlier
“What the hell did you mean by saying that to me in there?” Malaki paced their laboratory after the conference meeting, his hands shoved in his pockets. This was the only room in their headquarters where they could speak privately.
“I was stunned you were asking about Stanton.” Ian strolled to the immaculate stainless steel countertop. Their balance, beaker, b
eaker tongs, scoopula and the rest of the laboratory equipment sat neatly in place. His eyes fell to the test tubes in the rack, specifically to the one containing the reason for their mission. “I don’t want anyone to become suspicious because of your questions.”
“I was only asking how he’s doing, or if he’s heard anything, which is perfectly normal… of a friend.” Malaki stopped in his tracks. “And as you heard, he’s not doing well. We’ve got to get ready to put this plan in motion, Ian, because I seriously don’t think Stanton’s going to make it.”
Ian picked up the test tube and tipped it back and forth, watching the blue liquid slosh about—the memroth that basically drove his life these days. And Malaki’s. “I know, I know. To be quite frank, we’ve been talking about this and planning it for so long, it started to feel as if it would never come to pass.” He stared at Malaki’s dark eyes. “But I think it just might.”
“You’re damn right it will.” Malaki smacked his palm on the counter in front of him. “This is our time. Everything we’ve talked about. It’s going to be set in motion. It’s going to happen.”
“And you’ve been in touch with Price?” Ian took a deep breath, setting the test tube back in the rack. “He’s got the next one lined up? Is it the one we planned for it to be? The one you and I decided on?”
“Yes, it is. James. James Caldwell. He’s the one. And yes, I’ve been in touch with Price. He rarely makes a move without consulting us, you know that.” Malaki clasped his hands behind his back and gazed downward. “Make sure you’re not having any second thoughts, because once Stanton is gone, and James steps in, this plan goes forward. You’re on your way in and up. You ready for that?”
“Yes, I told you I was.” Ian leaned up against the countertop. “When I last spoke to Price, he didn’t mention James to me, so I wanted to make sure he’s in still.”
“Well, he knows I’m the one training the next new one. Last time, with Nash, it was your turn and Price spoke to you continuously about it. So don’t worry. Things are going as planned.” He rubbed his hands across his face. “Now, we just wait and see how Stanton is, if he pulls through.”
“Yeah. If he pulls through.” Ian checked his watch. “I better run. I’m going to meet Shannon for a spell and see Anthony, but I’ll see you in the morning. And in the meantime, let me know if you hear anything about Stanton. And I will, too.”
“You got it. See you in the morning. And give that little tyke of yours a noogie on the head for me.” Malaki chuckled. “Have a good one.”
Gray clouds hung in the sky in between intermittent blasts of sunlight when Ian stepped outside and strode towards his silver BMW. He opened the door and sat in the lush black leather seat. The medium-sized football shaped pod of memroth sat in its cradle on the dashboard. The pod had a dark bluish tint to it just like the liquid they worked with day in and day out.
His gut cringed every time he had to use this energy. He knew the truth of memroth and how potent it was. However, he was a member of The Circle so he had to test them out. If anyone in The Circle saw him avoiding the use of it for experimentation, it would raise suspicions.
He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the driver’s seat. He and Malaki had brought this magical electronic system to fruition before realizing the damage it could cause on Earth—both because of the extinction of electric power it would induce, and because of the radioactive chemical inside it and the devastation that it could bring to the human race.
But every time it came to mind, his thoughts raced to Elijah Bjorn, who’d seen the same danger. When Bjorn attempted to bring it to light by informing Charles Price, the leader of The Circle, he was mysteriously discovered at the bottom of Lake Sinclair. It was ruled an accidental drowning, but Ian and Malaki knew better.
He and Malaki had to tread carefully. Otherwise they’d be wiped out, too, and no one would ever know the truth.
Ian himself would have never known the truth if not for his grandfather, Ernest Mitchell, who’d been in The Circle all of Ian’s life, unbeknownst to Ian. As Ian grew older, he simply thought Grandfather worked for the government, which he did in a way. Ian spent his life watching his grandfather talk on the amateur radio, an old-school communication also known as “ham radio.” Ian had grown to love that hobby, too.
Ian had many conversations with his grandfather and learned from him. Ian’s mother had died when he was very young, and he had no brothers or sisters, so he was attached to his dad and his grandfather. When Ian’s dad passed away when he was in his late teens, Grandfather was all Ian had left, and he’d been determined to follow in his footsteps. Because of Ian’s knowledge of science and chemistry, and after graduating top of his class from Harvard University in Chemistry, Grandfather began whispering to him about The Circle, an unknown group of ten who held a secret. With Grandfather’s nudging of those in The Circle, Ian found himself on the verge of becoming a member as Grandfather was on his deathbed. And that’s when he spilled to Ian the secret he bore…
“Ian.” Grandfather’s deep brown eyes glistened as he stared at Ian with a seriousness he’d never seen before. “You’re going to take my place in The Circle when I’m gone and will soon learn all about this. But I want you to hear it from me first.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “The Circle was created when we discovered a livable planet beyond the moon. Certain death-row prisoners finish their sentences there and at the same time help us push forward with our plan for renewable energy. The planet holds the gem we need to make it happen.” Grandfather strained to lift his head.
“What?” Ian’s posture stiffened and he moved in closer to Grandfather. “That’s impossible. What? I think you’re—”
“Let me finish.” Strength seemed to return to Grandfather as his voice grew firm and his words came fast. He pointed a finger at him. “The planet I’m talking about was discovered in 1969, the first time we made the trip to the moon. But it’s been hidden from the rest of the world. Kept secret. Once it was found that humans could live and walk and breathe on it, and that it held the gem we needed, it was only a matter of time before it was going to be put to good use. By 1977, the country had started putting prisoners to death by lethal injection. No more hangings, no more electric chairs. This was deliberate, for us. For us in The Circle. Lethal injection was the future, and we in The Circle were going to use it for our benefit and for that planet.” Grandfather fell into a brief coughing fit. “But Ian, everything’s gone wrong, everything’s—”
Ian jumped at a knock on his car door window.
“Have a nice night!” Randy, who worked at headquarters but not within The Circle, yelled and waved.
Ian gave a half-hearted smile and waved back. He took a deep breath.
Grandfather left a box for Ian when he’d passed away, and what Malaki and Ian discovered inside set their plan in motion. Based on the contents of that box, they actually had a chance to finish what Grandfather started. Grandfather had been brilliant in his planning. He’d thought of everything. Most importantly, the flag.
He and Malaki had their plan set. It was going to happen. Especially now when Stanton lay on his deathbed and the new man, James, was on the precipice of joining The Circle. Ian shook his head and gripped the back of his neck. So heartless.
But hadn’t the past many years made him that way?
He slammed the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. No. That’s why he and Malaki were doing this. They were going to change things. That’s why they’d crafted this plan. That’s why Ian had decided to go up. He had to bring this lie out into the open and put a stop to this renewable energy.
He let out a deep breath and pressed his fingers to the memroth pod on the dashboard, and with a click, the pod lit up, looking like a glow-in-the-dark, bluish orb. In an instant, his BMW purred like a kitten, and the satellite radio blared an oldie but a goodie, “Peace of Mind,” by Boston.
♫ I understand about indecision
But I don’t care if I g
et behind
People livin’ in competition
All I want is to have my peace of mind…
Take a look ahead, take a look ahead… look ahead…♫
Peace. That’s what Ian sought. And looking ahead. He turned the song up to drown out his guilt-ridden thoughts over climbing up his own ladder all the way to the top. Guilt for what he and Malaki had created, and guilt for wishing Stanton, a good friend who’d had so many health struggles over the past few years, would die so they could fix it.
Ian stepped on the gas pedal and headed out of the parking lot.
The sky above grew darker, and he turned his headlights on. As he approached a stoplight, he stepped on the breaks and wondered how people would react once memroth was made known worldwide. They’d be able to power anything and everything if they kept moving forward the way they were. Even the stoplights in front of him would eventually be powered by memroth. And once it started, could the world exist without this new way of power? And what about the electrical companies? Sure, that was a billion-dollar-a-year industry, but at least that type of energy was relatively safe. Safe. Not like memroth.
But nobody was willing to do anything about that, except for Grandfather and Elijah, who were both gone, and now Ian and Malaki. And if Price found out about their plan to expose the truth, they’d be dead and at the bottom of Lake Sinclair, like Elijah, in a matter of days.
CHAPTER THREE
Reathran
“See this here.” Jack held up a large rock covered in dirt and red, clay-like mud.
Ian was distracted by the others around him digging and picking at the mountains, and everyone dressed in the same leathers and with the same long hair. It was mostly men of every race and color and a handful of women strewn throughout. Why were they here? Had they all been on death row? Did they remember much of their lives before coming here?