by Ann Bakshis
“Thanks, smartass, but why isn’t it damaged? Everything around it has been obliterated, but it stands perfectly unscathed.”
“Ever think that maybe it was built after the bombing?” the Aedox to his right says.
I hadn’t thought of that. I just assumed that once the fallout occurred, the dome was placed immediately. Would they have let the Dead Zone be re-inhabited just after a nuclear war? Is that why the new community is being called Pentras? I want to ask more questions, but I know that would be pushing it. I’m surprised that the Aedox actually answered the ones we did ask. That’s not like them.
Am I being paranoid, or is everyone acting out of character lately? Brink has stopped harassing me, Vernon gave away my hiding spot, and now the Aedox are allowing us to speak freely. Is something else going on that I’m unaware of? And why was Tilda arrested? She didn’t break any laws. Where is she?
The final hour of getting through the Dead Zone seems to be taking forever. I understand that we can’t move fast like we can in the Outer Limits, but this is ridiculous. When we do get closer to the other side, I can see that the glass dome is no longer clear, but cloudy.
The carriages slow as we approach a set of airlocks. Just like before we all have to enter the first set before the next set of doors will open. When we’re all inside, the carriages are bombarded by water mixed with something. I’m not sure what the chemicals in the water are, but they have tinted it a light blue. The next set of doors open and we enter through another set of airlocks. The door closes and we’re hit again with another liquid substance. We go through this routine two more times before finally exiting the dome, connecting to a cable for the car.
Tarsus starts right where the dome ends. Tall metal structures glow brightly, with colorful, flashing signs adhered at different levels of each building. It’s early afternoon, but Tarsus is lit up like it was night. I’m surprised we didn’t see these lights when we were in the airlocks, but the glass was so coated we couldn’t see anything through them. Our pace picks up, but we’re still not going nearly as fast as we were in the Outer Limits. People rush past, dodging into alleyways and open storefronts. Items of various shapes, sizes, and colors hang from store windows tantalizing shoppers to come in and buy. Everything is bright, flashy, large, and extravagant. It’s a far cry from the Outer Limits, and it makes me uncomfortable.
We come to a cross section, turn right, and stop a few blocks down in front of a tall, wide, and heavily plated building. Hidden lights underneath each floors’ ledge change color simultaneously, illuminating an otherwise dull structure. Our carriage switches cables and we swing around to the side of the building, set down onto the pavement, and proceed underground. We’re lowered about three stories before linking up to another set of cables and moved forward. The lift heads back to the surface as we move deeper, finally stopping outside a large set of steel doors. The carriage doors disengage and rise. I have to slide across the seat in order to exit. The driver from our car enters in a code by the doors. They swing open smoothly, introducing us to an empty room with a lone light hanging in the center.
The ten of us are ordered inside. The doors close behind us with the Aedox still on the other side. We drift towards the light, staying close together. Within moments of us hitting the center, monitors drop down from the ceiling encircling us. They flash on, bright colors dancing across the screen.
“Contestants, welcome to The Litarian Battles,” a hidden male voice echoes through the chamber. “In a few moments, you each will be directed to the door on your left.” A spotlight turns on, illuminating the single door. “From there you will be escorted to the main floor where your position in The Litarian Battles will be determined. Once that’s been decided, you will take a seat in the row assigned to your position until everyone has been through the designation process.” The display changes to a name in large print. “Brink Ford, please step towards the door.”
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Four
It’s been only twenty minutes since we started and there are four of us left. Garrett is called next. He’s a few inches taller than Brink, with chestnut colored hair that barely covers his ears. He disappears behind the door, while the rest of us grow anxious. I can’t take the waiting, it’s wrecking my nerves. Only a few minutes pass when the light above the door turns on and the next name displayed.
“Max Sutton, please step towards the door.”
I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat and step forward. The door slides open at my approach. I step across the threshold and am immediately blinded by light. The door closes behind me as a pair of hands press against my back propelling me forward to an elevated platform. I’m made to stand in the center of a metal disc, which then rises. The hole in the ceiling spins open the closer I get. Applause reverberates over my head, then around me. The spotlights above me pull back, allowing my vision to adjust.
I’m standing in the same center the announcer did the other night. Circling me are four tiers of contestants, all dressed in absurd clothes covered in bright, colorful patterns. In front of me stands a digital display, but the screen is blank. I glance around the room trying to find Brink, but he’s buried in the sea of audacious tones. I feel someone behind me and turn to see the host, a bright white smile across his face.
“Max,” the man says, pushing the microphone above his head towards me. “Congratulations on being selected for this bold undertaking. You must be so excited to be here and away from the Outer Limits.”
I can’t tell if that’s a question or just a simple comment, so I humbly smile.
“It is now your designation time. In front of you is an indicator, which will assist in placing you into the right position for The Litarian Battles.” Those around me clap, cheering slightly. “Just stand still, look directly at the screen in front of you, and we will have your placement in seconds.”
The host steps backwards, off the metal disc. The digital readout spins rapidly. It’s taking longer than a few seconds. It feels like minutes are passing before the display finally stops. “Looper” flashes across the screen. Those in the top row scream with joy and begin chanting my name.
“Wonderful, Max. You are the first Looper chosen today.” The rows move back slightly, revealing a staircase on my left. “Go and join your group. Take a seat and once the remaining contestants’ designations have been determined, we will move on to the next phase.”
As I climb, I spot Lil sitting in the first row marked “Nius”. Her clothes are tight fitting, top cropped above her stomach, and her hair is now purple, with glitter plastered to it. Brink is in the next row marked “Rapid”. Garrett is in the row labeled “Dead Mark”. I have to step across a couple of feet before getting to an empty seat in my row. The upholstery is soft and the padding thick. The backrest comes all the way to the top of my head, so I’m able to lean back comfortably. A blank monitor is secured in the headrest of the person in front of me. Down in the center, displays hang from the ceiling just outside the spotlights allowing us to see the full extent of the metal disc and the next person rising from below.
The platform the young woman is standing on, the one I stood on, has the same intricate scrolls across its surface as the Head Master’s carriages do. The design almost looks like a laurel, a type of wreath. The disc is black, while the marks are gold. When the host steps off the device, an outer ring moves clockwise. I never even felt it move when I was standing on there. It slows as the digital display shows what the position is. The young woman is assigned “Nius”, and takes a seat next to Lil. The last participant is designated “Dead Mark”. When he takes his seat, a tile floor slides over the disc, covering it, and the host takes center position.
“Now that everyone has
been placed, the next step is for the beginners to be taken to the Progression Room for scoring. Please stay in your seats and you will be lowered to an awaiting transport. Everyone else, get ready for the selection to determine who you will be fighting today.”
People around me erupt in excitement, their arms flailing above their heads. Safety straps come out from the base of the headrest, cross my chest, and secure by my thighs. My seat slides backwards a foot, then slowly descends. The air in the shaft I’m entering is much cooler than the room I’m exiting. I can’t see everyone else as a wall is in front of me, so I don’t know if their transport will be the same as mine. I come to a rest, spin around, and in front of me stands a dark skinned, older woman. Her tightly curled black hair has several strands of silver woven between them. The red pantsuit she’s wearing makes her look like a stick. She’s standing under a lone light with a carriage behind her.
“Hello, Max,” she says, assisting me out of my seat. “I’m Matron Kaniz. I’m in charge of the Looper unit here in Thrace Tower. Before we get you settled into your quarters, you will need to spend some time in the Progression Room.”
She clicks a button on a small device in her hand and the side door of the carriage swings up. She gestures for me to slide in the front row while she gets in next to me behind the wheel. The door closes and we move forward. The ride is pleasantly short. We come to a stop in front of a lift, climb aboard, and ascend. We’re the only ones on the floor when we exit. The walls are a shiny metal, just like the exterior, with colorful lights hanging from the ceiling and sconces on the walls. Between the fixtures, monitors display people dancing, partying to music that blares out from hidden speakers. Monitors that aren’t playing these scenes show colorful mosaics ebbing and flowing. The hall in front of us extends all the way to the other side of the floor.
Matron Kaniz gestures for me to follow her down the corridor on our left. We pass a large room on our right, which the Matron tells me is one of two bedrooms on the floor. At the end of the current hallway is an emergency exit, a bright red sign glowing above the door. We turn right after passing the bedroom, then turn immediately left into a smaller room. Screens cover the four walls, each showing a different type of weapon. In the center of the room is a tablet atop a thin, glass pedestal.
“In here, you’ll select the weapon you’ll be using in The Litarian Battles,” she says, stopping next to the tablet, gesturing for me to step in front of it. “The weapon you select is uniquely yours. It can never be used by anyone else, so even if you were to lose possession of it in battle, your opponent will not be able to use it against you. Also, each position has a specific type of weapon, so no two will be the same. For a Looper, yours will be a blade.” The screens around me change to various kinds of blades, differing in length, metal, and style. “Place one of your palms on the screen and you will be given a small selection of blades to choose from.”
I hesitate about touching the smooth display. I look at the scars on my hands and wonder if they’re going to inhibit the screen’s ability to select a proper blade. I press my palm against the glass, stretching my fingers out as far as possible. Green lights scan my print. A few moments later, the displays on my left change to show nine different types of blades. I’m drawn to the one in the center, a heavy knife with a short handle and forward-curving blade. It has a dark blue aura around it, almost as if it’s glowing.
“That one,” I say, pointing to the screen.
Matron Kaniz smiles. “Nice choice.” She comes up next to me, taps the side of the screen, and pulls up the full schematics for the weapon. “It’s called a Kopis. The blade is thick steel with a polished wooden handle. Unless, of course, you want a different design.”
“I can customize it?” I’m beginning to notice I’m enjoying this process a little too much.
What’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t be acting this excited in regards to creating a weapon for death.
“Of course. It’s your weapon, Max, we’ll make it however you like.”
She pulls up a design menu. I spend the next ten minutes selecting the metal and color of the blade, as well as some intricate markings I want embedded. I choose a light-colored steel. The exterior sides of the blade are to be etched with smaller versions of the weapon. The handle is in the shape of an elephant, with ivory for the grip. The Matron seems pleased with my design and sends it to be created.
My stomach sinks at the thought of what I’ve just done.
This isn’t right. None of this is.
“Next, you will need to select your shield.” We step to the other side of the room where the nine monitors now display various types of shields. “Shield selection can be tricky. They don’t defend against all weapons. Each one is a great defender, but only towards one type of weapon. So, you’ll want to choose carefully.”
I wander from screen to screen, each displaying a different type of shield, and what weapon they’re able to protect me from. Apparently the weapons the other positions use are arrows, a Deer Horn knife (which I have no idea about), and explosives. Unfortunately the monitors don’t tell me which position has which weapon. This is a much harder decision to make, and the longer I take the more impatient Matron Kaniz gets. I finally settle on a shield style called “Ancile”. It’s elongated with what looks like two half-moons taken out of the sides.
“Perfect. Just wait here one moment.” She steps out of the room through a door against the side wall. She returns several minutes later, holds the door open, and gestures for me to enter the next room.
The walls are sterile white, spotless, and teeming with instruments. In the center of the bright room is a lounge raised waist-high with a surgical table next to it. A man in a blue gown, hands covered in gloves, and a mask over his face, signals for me to have a seat. My heart races, my palms sweat, and I try to back out of the room, but the door I stepped through is now closed and locked. Matron Kaniz stands next to me, grabs my arm tightly, and plunges a syringe into my neck. I collapse instantly, though I’m still conscious. Nurses I didn’t see earlier, pick me up, carry me to the lounge, and strap me down. My arms are extended outward, away from my body, onto extensions that are pulled out from the chair. My wrists are secured, palms up, as machines are rolled from hidden cabinets up to my position. The doctor examines my hands, noticing the scars.
“How did you get these?” he asks, his tone alarming.
“I…I don’t know.” I barely get out before they place a breathing device over my face.
“Breathe deeply,” one of the nurses says.
I can’t breathe, and it shows. My body tightens as I begin to panic. I’m injected again. The lights grow dim, my breathing slows, and the world is gone.
I don’t need to open my eyes to know I’m no longer in the sterile room. Too many voices bouncing around the walls. A soft blanket covers me, but I toss it off when I see where I’m at. I’m on the bottom of a three-tiered bunk bed. The room I’m in is filled with beds, except for two corners at opposite ends. Those look to be bathrooms from what I can tell, as the doors swing back and forth with people running in and out of them. I set my feet onto the floor, noticing my whole body is shaking. I take my hands, placing them onto my knees to keep them still, and that’s when I see it. Covering my left wrist is a black wristband, the size of a shirt cuff, with a digital display all around the device. It shows my position, the word “Looper”, and my points, which read 1,000. The display changes to my name, scrolling across the screen, changing colors as it moves. I try to slide it off, but it’s imbedded in my skin. Shock sets in, my imagination flooding with what has been done to me.
“Don’t look so freaked out,” a young woman says, standing in the doorway out to the main hallway. “We all have one.” She raises her left arm, showing me an identical band on her wrist. She enters, grabs something from one of the beds, and sits down next to me. “I’m Addie,” she says, holding out her hand to me.
I shake it, but I’m still too stunned to speak.
/> “It’s ok, Max, we’ve all been through it. The Progression Room is torture. I actually think the Matrons enjoy it when we’re in there.” She smiles slightly. “So, let’s see what you’ve got.” She takes my arm, taps on the screen, and pulls up a menu, which displays my personalized weapon and shield. “Not bad for a beginner.” She stands, takes the item from her hand, and pulls back her shoulder length light blonde hair with purple streaks behind her head, tying it up. “Come on, it’s almost dinnertime.”
She takes my hand, pulls me to my feet, and we exit into the chaos. Laughter, screams of joy, and lively conversation penetrate my ears long before we get to the source. A couple of young men and women run past, chasing each other. Gone are the crazy hair and outlandish clothes. Everyone is dressed in either tank tops, or short-sleeved shirts along with jeans, leggings, or sweatpants. There are a couple of people with extremely short haircuts, dark blue or maroon colored hair, and odd styles, but nothing like what you see on the selection floor of The Litarian Battles.
At the end of the hall are couches arranged around several monitors attached to the walls where windows would normally be. Behind the one set is another in the same formation. Opposite the seating area is a dark, wood bar with stools and black walled iceboxes with glass doors. Addie takes me behind the bar and shows me where everything is kept, from utensils to plates and cups. She says the kitchen staff will be up shortly with the dinner carts, but she raids one of the iceboxes for an apple anyway. I take a seat on one of the couches, and Addie sits next to me. The screens each show a different show, or video. Some are set to music, others to variety shows that people are laughing at when someone does something outrageous. Only one of the eight monitors shows The Litarian Battles, but it doesn’t look to be a live feed. I ask Addie about it, since the image currently displayed shows her opponent being selected.