Looper

by Ann Bakshis

  The metal door opens and a man from Rapid is beckoned forward. I can’t see who or what is in the room since the door is only partially opened. Hours pass before I’m called. Matron Kaniz places her hand on my back as I walk towards the door. The room is white and sterile. Harsh lighting floods the small space hurting my eyes. In the center is a leather-covered table next to a stool and small workbench covered in black ink and transparency paper. A small, thin woman is bent over another table in the corner, designing my dragon, I assume. Her blonde hair is cut short and her outfit looks too baggy for her frame.

  “Lie here,” Matron Kaniz says to me, gesturing to the table.

  I slide on and lie down. The light is too bright at this angle, so I have to cover my eyes with my hand. Matron Kaniz advises the woman that I’m ready, then leaves. I begin to sweat from the heat being generated by the lights, but I feel chilled also.

  “Please remove your shirt,” the woman says, not even turning around.

  I do as she says. I’m grateful I left my bra on or I would be completely exposed.

  The woman gets up from her seat, goes over to a storage unit with several drawers. She rummages through a couple of them until she locates the needles she’s going to use. She sits down on the stool next to me, slips on gloves, and prepares her instruments.

  “I’m going to need you to put your arm down,” she says, still not looking at me.

  I place my arm against my side, but in such a way that I’m gripping the side of the table. She rubs lotion over the spot she’s going to place the tattoo. Right where Frey wants it. The transparency paper is placed on top of the lotion and patted down so the ink will stick to my skin. She takes her tools, hunches over me, and begins to work. The pain is minimal at first, but increases when she goes over one spot several times. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, wishing for the whole thing to be over.

  “I’m almost done,” she says, quite some time later.

  She takes a cloth, wipes off the extra ink, and then applies the rapid healing gel. She hands me a mirror so I can take a look.

  The dragon is bigger than I had expected. It’s covering almost the entire left side my chest and close to my neck. The dragon’s head is sharp, angling down, showing its profile. Its mouth is wide open with its tongue and teeth exposed. The body twists into a couple of loops, scales projecting out like barbed wire. The wings are tall, stretching from the top of my breast to my collarbone. My heart sinks at the sight of it.

  What did I do? What am I doing? How could I have agreed to this? Then I remind myself I didn’t have much choice.

  “It’s going to be tender for a while,” the woman says. She leans over to take the mirror from me, and that’s when I finally see her. Recognition flashes on both our faces, but she’s the first to speak. “Head Master Edom is not going to like this,” Cil says – the woman who helped mutilate my hands.

  “Why?” I ask, thrusting my hands into her face. “Why did you do this to me?”

  “Not here, Max. Not now.”

  “Yes now. I’m tired of being lied to. I want to know the truth. Who are you and why was this done to me?”

  She hushes me with a wave of her hands and then busies herself with cleaning up when Matron Kaniz pokes her head in to see what the fuss is about.

  “I just need to do a couple of touchups,” Cil says. “It’ll only be a few more minutes.”

  Matron Kaniz smiles and closes the door.

  “You’re going to get me killed,” Cil says, anger in her voice. “They think I’m on their side. If you give me away, I’ll kill you myself.”

  “Explain,” I say, my teeth clenched with aggravation.

  “Leader Fallon wanted to make sure that when Head Master Edom submitted the names to the Keepers of those being drawn from the Outer Limits that you would be one of them. The Patrician instructed us to alter your body to ensure you made it to the event.”

  “But why me? Why not someone else?”

  “What a better person to use than a Dracken leader’s daughter. Your parents had no idea where you were, but Leader Fallon did because she placed you in the orphanage. She thought it would be fitting for the Dracken to be defeated by one of their own, but you’re here getting marked.” Her expression changes to one of concern.

  “It’s not by choice,” I croak.

  “You always have a choice, Max. You can chose who will win this realignment. Both sides are betting on you, they just don’t know it yet.”

  “Where do you fit in?”

  “Wherever I’m needed, but my real loyalties are with the Patrician. They’re trying to keep civilization together. The Dracken want to rip it apart, start over.”

  “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  “For someone like you, no. Your kind will survive, but not mine. I grew up in the second-level housing in the Outer Limits, so I will have no future if the Dracken win. All those workers will be killed, obliterated like what happened in the Dead Zone.”

  I want to ask her more questions, but Matron Kaniz enters, ending our conversation. I put my shirt back on before I’m escorted up to the unit and settle into bed as quietly as possible. I get very little sleep. I’m dreading having to explain the tattoo to Addie and Rem in the morning.

  How far am I willing to take this before I actually pick a side? Frey uses control and deception to get what he wants, yet that’s what Leader Fallon and the Patrician have done as well. Why am I the pawn in their game? Will I make that much of a difference to either side? What if I choose to die in The Litarian Battles and not continue with their plan? They’d have to find someone else, but would they even allow that to happen? I’m sure I’m being monitored continually by both sides at all times.

  I give up on figuring things out and sleep. Frey is sitting on my bed when I wake up. Men aren’t allowed in the women’s quarters, and vice versa. Matron Kaniz must’ve given him permission. His fingers gently caress the outline of the image. The touch is comforting, warm, and desirable. I take his hand off my chest and hold it.

  “It looks nice,” he says, leaning closer to me. He kisses me on the lips, then curls up in the bed next to me.

  I’m hoping the room is empty, otherwise this is really going to be awkward. He holds me in his arms, nuzzling his face in my neck. My stomach rumbles since I’m starving. Frey pushes the covers off and we head to the common room for breakfast. We’re the last ones to get food. We take a seat where we can find one and eat. Addie bounces over to me, almost knocking the bowl of cereal out of my hands when she plops down. I sit hunched over, trying my best to hide the tattoo, but Addie catches sight of the wings.

  “Oh my God, you got one!” she shouts, alerting the whole room. “That’s awesome. Can I see it?”

  I pull down the collar of my shirt to show her.

  “Rem is going to be so pissed when she sees it. Don’t be surprised if she scolds you. She gave me crap, but I got over it.” Addie wraps her arm around mine, making eating almost impossible.

  “When is Hammond making the announcement?” Frey asks Addie.

  “In about an hour. Matron Kaniz has already left to make arrangements for the changes. Apparently she knows what they are, but won’t tell any of us.”

  My mind floods with possibilities. I can’t eat any more, so I toss my food into the garbage and go back to the bedroom to take a shower. All but one of the stalls is occupied, so I grab it before someone else can. My skin is sensitive this morning, not just around the tattoo. I have to wash slowly and gently. I dry in the same manner, put on clean clothes, and go back out to the common room. Addie and Rem are arguing, again. I wonder what changed between the two of them that they’re fighting so much. Rem glares at me and starts yelling.

  “Traitor,” she screams, charging at me with her finger pointed in my direction. “How could you? I didn’t train you to become one of them!”

  “Stop it, Rem,” Frey says, coming up behind me.

  “No, she has to know.”

  “She
does,” Frey says.

  “Probably only what you want her to know, not the whole truth.”

  Frey grabs Rem by the arm and drags her down the hallway. She’s wincing from the pain of his grip. I follow them, but Addie stays behind.

  “You have no idea what kind of havoc you’re going to cause if you keep this up,” Frey says through gritted teeth. “Max is a Dracken now, just like her parents.”

  Rem looks confused by the last remark. It takes her a few moments before she puts the pieces together. “The conspirators? That’s not possible. The daughter was killed with her parents.”

  Frey shakes his head. “You were led to believe that. We all were.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Troy. He had Max’s roommate from the Outer Limits staying with him during the break. Apparently Brink felt that bragging about his endowment would put him in high standings with Troy.”

  “Endowment?” Rem asks.

  Frey leans in and whispers to her. I don’t need to hear it to know what he’s telling her. This makes me wonder how many other people Brink has told about my parent’s promise to him. Was I the last one to find out? How could mentioning something like that possibly benefit Brink in any way? Maybe he’s hoping it’ll make him a Dracken leader or at least a top official. If I’m up against him in The Litarian Battles, he’s not coming out alive.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Rem blurts out. “You’re all dead to me now.” She walks up to me, our faces close together. “If we’re in the same battle, don’t plan on surviving.”

  She storms away just as Matron Kaniz steps off the lift with two Aedox. They look to be the replacements for the two currently stationed next to the lift, but they continue down the hallway towards the common room. Frey and I follow, squeezing ourselves into the crowd that is forming.

  “Hammond will make the announcement shortly,” Matron Kaniz says once everyone is accounted for.

  “What’s with the Aedox?” a girl in the front asks.

  “They’re for your protection,” Matron Kaniz responds.

  This makes the room fall silent. That isn’t the answer I was expecting. Why would we need protecting? And from whom?

  The monitors all flicker on at the same time showing Hammond standing in the center of the selection floor. His suit today is somber, not as wild like the normal outfits he wears. He looks nervous and uncomfortable, but smiles through it.

  “Hello children, I hope you all enjoyed your break.” He pauses for imagined applause or cheers. “The Keepers have been hard at work determining the next phase leading up to the event. As you can guess this was not easy, and with circumstances changing almost daily additional alterations are being made.” He clears his throat, adjusts his tie, and strokes his mustache before continuing. “This phase of The Litarian Battles is being broken up into three rounds. Now, not everyone will be in the first round, as many of our higher ranking players will automatically start in round three.”

  I catch Rem smiling in her little corner of the room. Frey squeezes me against him. He has the highest points in the unit, so he’s guaranteed to start in the third round.

  “So, not to get ahead of ourselves, we will just discuss the first round,” Hammond says, adjusting his tie again. He looks to be sweating more than usual under the hot lights. “All contestants who had five hundred points or lower before the break will meet on the selection floor shortly. Of the one hundred and twenty-five players we have, the Keepers have determined that eleven of you meet this criteria. The wristbands of those selected will glow blue. You will be escorted by your Matrons to the selection floor. There, the rules of the first round will be explained. Good luck to you.”

  The monitors turn off. I bury my wristband under my arm. I only had five hundred points left after my last battle, so I know it’s glowing. Everyone cranes their necks, looking around the room to see who it may be. I see two people close to the bar whose wristbands are blue. I pretend to not be paying attention, but I catch Matron Kaniz’s stern look in my direction. I linger back, hoping to disappear as everyone else disperses from the room.

  “Max,” Matron Kaniz calls to me. “Let’s go.”

  Frey won’t release me. I don’t think he realized I had so few points. I feel his heart rate skyrocket in his chest. I’m not sure if it’s because of anger, fear, or excitement. I turn, kiss him on the lips, and force his fingers free from my waist.

  “Win,” he whispers.

  I nod and make my way over to the others who are standing next to the Aedox. No one speaks as we take the lift down. We bypass the dressing area and are secured into our seats. Our chairs spin and we rise into the darkness before breaching the selection floor. Hammond is still standing in his spot, but the screens in the seats in front of us and around his head are off. No computer generated audience cheers in our ears. I quickly scan the room, looking for familiar faces, but only find one. Drake is cowering on the Rapid level of the auditorium. Of the eleven players there are three Loopers, four Nius, three Rapids, and one Dead Mark.

  “Welcome contestants,” Hammond says, outstretching his arms as if to embrace us. “In order to reach the second round you must reach ten thousand points. For that to be accomplished, only one of you will come out of this round alive. There will be no pairing. You will all be battling at once. The battle floor has been modified to accommodate these new conditions. The winner will be reunited with their unit and advance. Alliances will not be tolerated. If you team up with someone from your unit, your kill rate will become higher and your shield deactivated. This sequence will not end until we have a winner. All units will be watching you in their common rooms, so do them proud.”

  We descend, heading back into the darkness.

  The Keepers are getting desperate, but why? Are they with the Dracken? If so, why place their own people into these battles? Why not advance us to the third round automatically?

  I’m so involved in my own thoughts that an Aedox has to nudge me from my seat after I reach the bottom. We make our way to the holding area. Our outfits are waiting for us in the designated stalls. When we’re all dressed, we wait. Hammond never told us how long we would have until we were thrown onto the floor, so the eleven of us nervously pace the room, trying to avoid each other.

  The signs above the four doors light up with our unit name. The doors slide open and everyone enters. Our weapons are waiting for us at the end of the hall, but the door to the battle floor is still closed. The three of us belt our sheaths around our waists, and wait.

  Fifteen

  “Players,” a voice booms over our heads. It’s not Hammond, so perhaps it’s one of the Keepers. “Once the doors open, you each will be swept to a different area of the battle floor. If you look down at your wristbands, you will see the total count of those currently alive in this round. When someone is killed, a chime will go off and the number will update on your wristband. Good luck to you all.”

  The door opens exposing us to a blinding light. The three of us hesitate before stepping forward. I go first and immediately loop, landing at the base of a tall metal structure with blown-out windows. The concrete below my feet is cracked and burnt, with small grasses trying desperately to grow through. In front of the building is a plaza containing a fallen statue of a woman with a gold crown atop her head, and holding a long spear in one hand and a shield in the other. She had to have stood at least a hundred feet if not more when she was built. Below her feet is an empty pool covered in what once must have been blue tile, each engraved with a green laurel surrounding a silver infinity symbol. Beyond the pool is a road with a few rusted vehicles sporadically spaced.

  This battle floor looks and feels different than the others. The textures are grittier and the air thicker, which makes me wonder where they’ve placed us. Or, what they’ve moved onto the battle floor.

  Could they have teleported the Dead Zone to the battle floor? Is that even possible? That’s if this is the Dead Zone, but nothing else around resembles this ty
pe of landscape.

  The sky is slightly overcast, but I hear rumbling in the distance of an approaching storm. I climb up several thin steps, cross a large patio, and enter the building. The entrance must have once been a lobby. In the center of the open space are three lifts, all rusted and collapsed. Their cables drape over the enclosure and across a couple of broken wooden tables outside a defunct café. The ceiling of the thirty-story structure consists of broken glass panels that allow anything from the outside in, which explains the birds that are flittering about. The lobby’s interior is grimy, covered in either mold or moss, I can’t tell which. The air is scented in decades-old decay.

  I meander around the ground floor, taking in as much as I can. Monitors that once clung to the walls lay smashed on the ground. I try every doorknob I come across, but they’re all locked, except one labeled “Emergency Exit”. I open it and step into a stairwell. One of the walls that supports part of the stairs has crumbled away, revealing the plaza outside. I need a good vantage point to locate the other players, so I decide to take the stairs up. When I come upon a gap too large to step over, I loop myself to the next safe landing. I could probably loop all the way to the top of the building, but I actually want to look at how everything is laid out.

  The entrance to the twentieth floor is the first unlocked door. I step out of the stairwell and onto a floor covered in broken computers, demolished desks, and partial walls that have been burned. I step carefully across towards a wide hole in the far wall. My boots crunch the glass that still sits in the window frame as my toes dangle over the edge. A decimated landscape lies before me. Skyscrapers reduced to only a few stories, highways either cracked or totally destroyed and covered in vehicles in various stages of disintegration, and a building a great distance away that looks to be completely intact.