Five
The Doctor
A knock at the door broke Dr. Faraday from her trance-like sleep, springing her back to life in a cold sweat, little Elsie in her arms still curled up next to her. The knock hadn't disturbed the sleeping child. She only moaned and rolled over. A red silk robe was on a hanger by the bathroom, Dr. Faraday draping it over her shoulders before she went to the door, still favoring her casted right arm. Living with air conditioning again after nearly two years without power felt obscene considering how she knew people were living outside of the building, but it was hard not to appreciate it. She glimpsed herself in the huge mirror that hung over a dresser, only to see a haggard, aged woman with dead eyes looking back at her. Had it really been that long, that stressful? Wasn't this all some horrific dream?
Another knock, Dr. Faraday shuffling towards the door, looking through the fish-eyed hole affixed to it. A man in a sharp tuxedo with neatly gelled hair and a thin mustache stood with a tray in his hand. She turned the deadbolt and opened the door, feeling the whoosh from the hallway, causing her to collect up the robe that she found her gaunt body swimming in.
"Yes?"
"Dr. Faraday," the man gave her a brief nod before striding past her and into the room, laying down the tray on the dresser, pulling off the large domed cover to reveal a bottle of sparkling water, two glasses and two plates heaping with food. "Roasted chicken, baked potatoes and roasted carrots, for two, of course."
"Are you kidding me?" Her eyes grew large at the sight of not only fresh food, but eloquently prepared food. Russell, who served as the caravan's chef, was a line cook at a Denny's prior and did his best with what they had, but it was never anywhere near the ostentatious presentation in front of her. The aroma of the chicken alone filled up the room and left her feeling intoxicated.
"Compliments of Mr. Branch," the man explained, "this is personally one of his favorite dishes."
"Does everyone here eat like this?"
"Mostly, although some on the lower floors dine in the cafeteria," his tone visibly dismissive when speaking about the cafeteria.
"This is simply too much, you must tell Mr. Branch how much I appreciate this, mister, um?"
"Clyde," he said.
"Yes, Clyde, please send him our sincerest thanks for the room, the clothes and now the food."
"You can thank him yourself in the arena tonight."
"Oh?"
"I'm sure that you saw it on your way in," he said, standing rigid in the doorway. "That mass of a structure appended to this marvelous building, that is."
"The big hodgepodge? I thought that was some sort of refugee camp of sorts."
"One could say that."
"So this is some sort of event?" She probed further, not happy with what he was seemingly withholding.
"Yes, the premiere entertainment here at Branch Tower. You have a personal invitation from Mr. Branch, which I hope you understand the gravity of. That's an honor that most will never be extended."
"I'm sure it'll be very interesting."
"Uh huh," he seemed disgusted by her lack of enthusiasm, "I've done the honor of preparing outfits for both of you."
He exited the room, then wheeled in a rack with two hangers on it, covered in black garment bags with two pairs of black heel shoes sitting on the base, most likely leather and recently polished. Clyde unzipped one of the bags when Dr. Faraday smiled at him and stopped him.
"It's been a while, but we remember how to dress ourselves, thank you, Clyde."
"You see, madame, this is my job and Mr. Branch..."
"I'm sure that Mr. Branch appreciates your attention to detail, but the girl just lost her parents and I just saw the only people that I had left in the world mowed down by assault rifles and a horde of the undead. We need some time on our own for now. We'll graciously accept Mr. Branch's offer, but we could use some time to at least change on our own."
"I... I understand," he said, "I'll return in three hours to deliver you both to Mr. Branch's private box."
The door closed behind him with a subtle click, although it made Elsie jump. Somehow she had slept through his entire visit, but the sound of the door clicking pulled her from her slumber with a gasp. She sat up, covered in sweat, hyperventilating and thrashing in the sheets.
"Where am I? Where am I? Mom? Mom!?"
"Oh sweetie," Dr. Faraday cradled her in her good arm, being careful with her right, "sweetie it's alright, Auntie Ruth is here."
"Auntie Ruth?" She looked up at her, like a lost little lamb, "where's my mom? My sister?"
"Oh sweetie, sweetie," she ran her fingers through the girl's hair. "I'm here now, that's what matters. We are safe inside of the Tower. Remember the Tower?"
"I... Mom..." The girl fell silent, the memories returning to her right before Dr. Faraday's eyes. Her heart broke again, like it had dozens of times since the fall, like she thought it couldn't anymore. That's one lesson that she has learned; that heartbreak doesn't have its limitations, it wasn't a singular event and it would and could repeat itself without end.
"I'm sorry, Elsie, I'm so, so sorry."
"Why?"
"I don't know, darling, I don't know. I just am."
"Why do we have to go to this?" Elsie asked, wearing a perfectly sized black dress with her black heels. Dr. Faraday had helped to brush her hair back and did her best to make them both look presentable. She appreciated that there were sweaters for both of them, as she didn't exactly feel comfortable in the black-satin dress that they had picked out for her.
"We just do, Elsie," she said, feeling unsure herself. The invitation itself would have felt benign if Branch's men hadn't slaughtered their entire caravan without remorse. Upsetting Branch seemed like a bad idea considering their lives were in his hands right now, which was somehow an even more terrifying thought than surviving out in the wasteland like they had. "Just stick by me and everything will be fine."
"I'm scared."
"I know, sweetie, I know."
A knock came at the door, Elsie jumped, and Dr. Faraday took a deep breath. This would be Clyde again, she presumed, straightening out her sweater. She unbolted the door and swung it open, only to find Tom standing there, in a new set of leather clothing that looked every bit as new as the clothing that was left for Elsie and herself. "Oh, Tom," she said. "I didn't expect you."
"We're going to this thing," he said, "but stay close."
"Okay," she replied, noting his tone was somber and guarded. "Elsie, we should get going here."
The girl gathered herself up, and like a magnet attached herself to Dr. Faraday's hip. Elsie was still shaken and in a daze, making her pull the poor girl in closer while they walked down the hallway behind Tom. He was never a man of many words and when he spoke he spoke quietly. But no matter what, she trusted him. Knowing that he was going to whatever this arena was with them at least gave her some comfort. If it wasn't for him out in front of the building, neither one of them would be alive. Then again, after all that they went through, with all that they lost, was alive the correct terminology anymore? There was no way to be sure.
The great hallways of Branch Tower were lavish to the point of being gaudy. Branch's taste was not for everyone, with the primary tenants of his palate being black, gold, yellow and the occasional dash of red. That meant that the hallways were darker than they needed to be, but gilded wherever gold could be applied. There was no denying that the red carpets were beautiful, but the deep maroon color reminded her of blood and her thoughts immediately went to the steady stream of blood that had dripped out of the bus while she lay there in the sand cradling Elsie while death surrounded them.
A shiver ran through her entire body, Elsie feeling it and looking up at her only for Dr. Faraday to squeeze her even tighter. They made their way to an elevator where Tom pressed the button and waited with his back against the wall and eyes studying both sides of the hallway. There were a few people lingering about the hall, all of them dressed up in exquisitely made
clothing, like they were heading out for a night at the opera. Drinking had already begun, with champagne flutes and wine glasses in-hand, the laughter and chatter serving as the backdrop.
"This all feels..." she started.
"Wrong," Tom finished the sentence for her.
"Yeah, wrong. After what we just saw, after what we've gone through? It's like none of that touches these people. The world never ended, their lives just carried forth into a new setting."
He merely grunted and nodded before the chime of the elevator rang. The golden doors parted and in there stood Clyde, still without an expression and standing as rigid as ever. "Ah yes, I was just coming to retrieve you all. Please, let me guide you the rest of the way."
The butler narrated their journey through Branch Tower, describing the renovations that the building underwent after the fall, the floors that had morphed into supply operations, how the water was processed and every other minor detail that was of no real interest to them. Tom seemed distracted and uneasy, but Dr. Faraday did her best to seem interested while keeping Elsie engaged and not letting her mind wander to her dead family. The girl simply kept quiet, and her face had a constant look of blank horror on it.
Clyde made note of it a few times.
The arena was detached from the main building, with access to it being from the parking structure that was built underneath the resort. Surprisingly enough, there were cars still there, most of them looking to still be in good condition. Clyde led them through the base floor of the parking structure through the sea of people who were in line to enter the arena and off to the side, through a special, black-and-gold door that had the Branch seal on it. Through there was a red-carpet-lined hallway that led to an elevator.
When they finally emerged from the darkness of the hallway and the elevator, the only way to describe the wave that hit them was overwhelming. The elevator spat them out into a narrow hallway that led to a set of steps and into a box that hung over the entire arena. Inside that arena was a sports stadium chock-full of humanity, containing more people than she had imagined even survived the apocalypse. Yet there they were, a huge mass of humanity, their murmurs almost deafening after the years of relative silence.
"My god," she said under her breath.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Branch was leaning on the edge of the box, waving a gloved hand towards the crowd, not bothering to look back. Of course he knew who was approaching. This was his world. "Behold my creation, my world, risen from the ashes of a sad, little world full of sad little people."
They all stayed silent while he marveled at the world that was built in his image. Dr. Faraday did her best to hide her disbelief and disgust. Billions were dead, all because he couldn't let his ego be bruised by a failure to create some superhuman serum and kept going beyond the point of good taste.
"Ah, Dr. Faraday," he outstretched his hand towards her. "How good of you to accept my humble invitation, and you've brought... that girl with you as well."
"This is Elsie," she gave the girl a squeeze, "say hi, Elsie."
"No," Elsie turned and buried her head into Dr. Faraday's sweater.
"I'm sorry, she's just shy is all, this is all rather overwhelming."
"I understand, I understand, it's all quite impressive. Even I'm impressed by what I've been able to build in just a few short years."
"A regular Caesar," Tom muttered.
"Oh Mr. Gabriel, I know that you are still leery of this, but you, my friend, are the guest of honor here and my do you look splendid. In fact, I hand-selected your clothing, ripped from the cinema, you might say."
"I noticed."
"So, Mr. Branch," Dr. Faraday interrupted, sensing Tom's growing agitation and afraid of what might happen. There were two armed guards in the box along with them; a blonde man covered in scars and another, taller blonde man who was pacing back and forth. "What exactly... is this?"
"The arena," he smiled gently. "We had it built on right after, well, you know. More and more people were coming to Branch Tower, what with it becoming a beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak world. The best and the brightest were what we needed, but sadly, not everyone could live up to that potential. So, judge me not, we devised the arena. While I would truly love to take in everyone with open arms, there is simply not enough room for every wanderer or vagabond, especially with so many out there being so violent."
"So you take people in and have them fight to the death?"
"You make it sound so crass and simple, but essentially, yes. Oh, don't make that face, Mr. Gabriel," he looked over at Tom who was shaking his head. "I'm working on a plan to build additional housing out there for these strays, but until then we simply don't have the resources for them all, no offense, Dr. Faraday."
"You are forcing people—people that are alive—survivors, to kill or be killed? I'm not trying to be ungracious here, but haven't enough people died, Mr. Branch?"
"I completely agree, but they come here. What am I to do? Turn them away? We give everyone a choice. Only the strongest remain. In fact, tonight I want you to see our champion, he's a bit of a brute but I believe that you'll like him, all of you, but Mr. Gabriel in particular. He was given the same opportunity that everyone else was given that wandered in from the wasteland, and my god did he take advantage of it. He's a shining example of how this system works. You look skeptical, but you'll see."
"Ladies and gentlemen," an announcer boomed overhead. "Please welcome the Wizard of the Wastes, the Savior of the Damned, the Ayatollah of Rock 'n Rolla himself, Mr. Jordan Branch!"
"Ahh yes, we are starting," Branch smiled, pumping both fists in the air, the crowd erupting with applause and cheers. There was no way to decide how many people were there, but it sounded like there was a huge mass of humanity in attendance, cheering on Branch. Branch looked back at them, motioning towards Tom. "C'mon." Tom took a deep breath and walked towards the edge of the box, overlooking the crowd. The whole thing was garish and unthinkable. More people than she had imagined even survived the apocalypse were out there and they were cheering for the blood of other survivors to be spilled on that sand pit floor.
"Thank you, thank you," Branch stood before an immaculately varnished maple podium with a microphone, motioning with his hands for everyone to quiet down. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of my new world, to the arena!" Another cheer broke loose, only for Branch to settle them down again. "Tonight you will be in for some of the greatest action that the world has ever seen. Acts of bravery, heroism, depravity and old-fashioned violence. Tonight, though, tonight is a special night. You see, standing here with me is a very special guest. Standing here with me is hope. Standing here with me is a survivor, the strongest of the strong. Not only that, but standing here is someone that you might remember. Ladies and gentlemen, Jordan Branch is very proud to present none other than Mr. TK Gabriel!"
The crowd erupted, the rumbling of the arena coursing through his veins, his chest pounding from the roar. Tom outstretched his hand, an image of him mirroring him from the other side of the arena, Dr. Faraday seeing herself standing there behind both men, Elsie tucked under her arms and once again could not correlate the connection between her and the image of her the survivor. Branch was beaming, applauding while he motioned for Tom to take the podium. "Make it brief," he yelled into TK's ear while he approached the microphone. Tom was hesitant at first, glaring sideways at the podium and the microphone before taking a deep breath. In her brief time knowing him he was never one for words, outside of that one night when he told her the story of his him and his wife's escape from their home, the night that she died and he claimed that he also died, reborn as a shell of a man.
"So," he leaned against the podium. "I... I don't know. It really is hell out there..." he said, reflecting on life out in the wasteland, the cheers and applause awkwardly tapering off. Branch tapped him on the shoulder, a sign of impatience, Dr. Faraday was cringing. Tom had mentioned Branch to her briefly, none of it that he mentioned seemed complimentary. In fact,
she was shocked that he had even been heading there. He wasn't heading to the Tower for refuge, but something else burned in his eyes. "I can't do this."
Branch's expression was difficult to crack; part amused, part angry and part suspicious of the man. "Thank you very much, Mr. Gabriel. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. TK Gabriel! Now, on with the violence!" That was all that it took to get the crowd riled up again.
Humanity under the rule of Jordan Branch had been transported back in time to an amalgamation of the Roman empire and the worst nightmare of the apocalypse coming to life, such as watching the living batter the living over a space in the tower in their new high society. The not-so-dearly departed were trotted out as a sideshow attraction, subhuman fodder for a violent spectacle. She wondered how many of these people watching had actually been forced to survive out in the unforgiving wasteland for long, or if these were only the privileged who hadn't been subjected to all the horrors. Maybe she was just jaded and humanity had simply defaulted to this level of madness when trying to comprehend their devolving existence. When there weren't smartphone screens to get lost in on a daily basis and social networks to share every bit of minutiae, humanity simply craved entertainment in a social setting.
They called two survivors out to the arena, both decked out in what looked like crude leather armor, each with their equally haphazard weapons of choice. A tall, lean-looking man stood barefoot with a two-by-four wrapped in barbed wire while a smaller, more muscular man had a baseball bat with a few railroad spikes driven through it, fashioned it into a cudgel. Branch hungrily licked at his lips while he turned to Tom, looking like a kid on Christmas morning unable to contain himself. "Oh, this should be a good one," he said.
Tom stood transfixed, unmoving outside of a balled up fist.
The Tower Page 5