Looper

by Ann Bakshis

  “You have to travel through it from the Outer Limits in order to reach Tarsus,” I say, trying to calm myself. I’m not sure why, but having to talk about the Dead Zone is causing me to panic. “There’s nothing but devastated buildings, broken highways, and rusted-out vehicles. Everything has either been blown to dust, burned, or melted. I’d hate to see what a person would’ve looked like under such conditions.”

  “I’m sure no one was there when the place was obliterated. I mean, why murder millions of people?”

  “Do you even know who used to live there?” Frey asks, his temper rising. I haven’t seen him get this mad in a while. “Why do you think the Outer Limits and Tarsus exist, Addie? Because the Dead Zone was nuked by the Patrician. They had no place to put their people, so they created our society today.”

  “Where’d you hear shit like that from?” Rem asks, joining us.

  I’m surprised she’s sitting anywhere near us, let alone talking to us. I wonder if she’s still mad that I’ve got the Dracken mark, or if her anger is finally waning.

  “It’s not shit,” Frey says, heatedly.

  I move next to him, placing my body against his to see if it’ll calm him down. I can feel his heart racing against my shoulder, but it only speeds up instead of slowing down.

  “My sister did research on the Dead Zone. She discovered the truth and they killed her for it.”

  “Who killed her?” Addie asks.

  “The Patrician. Aedox came during the night, dragging her from her bed. My parents were helpless in stopping them. That’s why I’m here. To get to the event and put an end to the Patrician’s reign. We need this realignment so our society can go on and not wind up as another Dead Zone.”

  He abruptly stands and I have to put my arms out to prevent myself from falling. He storms away and disappears into the men’s bedroom.

  “He’s full of crap,” Rem says. “He’s always making shit up to get everyone on his side. Frey has to always be in control of everyone and everything.” Rem stands and places her hand on my shoulder. “Watch out who you align yourself to, Max. You may have the Dracken mark, but if your heart isn’t in it, you’ll quickly become their enemy.” She steps away and sits on another couch, joining a new group’s conversation.

  I retreat to the training room, leaving Addie by herself. I lock the door behind me, walk to the center of the room, and sit. I need to get my thoughts straight and this is the quietest place on the floor. I pull my knees up to my chest, hold them in place with my arms, bend my head down, take a couple of deep breaths, and close my eyes.

  What do I do? And what do I know? My father was once the leader of Tarsus, but he was removed after a short time. My parents started a rebellion against the Patrician, which led to them being taken from Tarsus and sent…where? Leader Fallon convinced everyone my parents are dead, then proceeded to hide me, but why? Who are the Dracken really? Were my parents involved with their creation? Who are the Patrician? Where do they come from? Are they people like us, or something else? Was what Frey said about the Dead Zone correct? Did the Patrician murder the people who lived there? How and why?

  My head begins to hurt from all the questions. More slam against my skull and I let out a scream to deafen them. Someone tries the handle of the door, but when they discover it’s locked they start banging on it. It’s Addie, who shouts to me, asking me if I’m all right. I tell her I’m fine, but she continues to pound on the door. I stand up, think of a quiet place, and loop.

  The carpeting under my shoes is gritty, like it hasn’t been cleaned in a while. One of the chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling sways from an invisible breeze. Head Master Edom is having a conversation with someone in his study. Since everyone else I need to talk to is not accessible, he is my only option. I’m just hoping that the Keepers can’t track me here. That their devices can’t get past the Dead Zone and into the Outer Limits. I step quietly towards the half-open door. I recognize the voice of the woman he’s arguing with belonging to Cil.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Cil says.

  “It has to, it just has to,” Edom responds. It sounds like he’s pacing.

  “She’s a Dracken now. She’s chosen her side and it’s not the one you and the Patrician want her on.”

  “Maybe she’s just trying to fit in, Cil. Max has always had issues finding her place in society. Perhaps she thinks this could be what she’s supposed to do. We just need to remind her of the true nature as to why she’s there.”

  “And what if she starts asking questions? Do you want her finding out the truth about her parents? Fallon would kill you if she knew what you’ve done.”

  “I had to!” he shouts. The pacing stops and springs squeak as if someone suddenly stood up. “They left me no choice.”

  “What about Tilda? She wasn’t a threat to you, and she was the only person who actually gave a damn about Max as a person.”

  “Again, I had no choice.”

  “That seems to be your excuse for everything,” Cil says loudly. Springs squeak again and footsteps approach the door I’m near. “Don’t be surprised when this all comes crashing down on you. It’ll either be the Patrician, the Dracken, Fallon, or perhaps Max herself who will be your executioner. I just hope you put in a good word for the rest of us before you die.”

  I press against the wall as the door opens, almost smacking me in the face. Cil storms out the front door and into a night filled with rain. I push the door away, step around it, and walk into the study.

  “Why?” I ask as Edom is sitting with his back to me.

  He jumps upon hearing my voice, dropping his drink onto the floor, shattering the glass. “Max, how… how did you get here?” he stutters.

  “Answer my question,” I say louder, stepping a little closer to him.

  “You don’t understand what’s at stake, Max.” Edom stands. His bathrobe hangs open over gray pajamas. It looks like he’s been living in those clothes for days.

  “Then explain it.”

  He moves himself towards the back of the couch, then leans against it. “Leader Fallon and the Patrician need you to stop this realignment that the Dracken are trying to cause.”

  “That part I got,” I say, anger dripping from my tongue as I show him my hands.

  “So, you know what you can do now.”

  “It was more than just my hands if I’m able to loop away from Tarsus. Looper was selected for me on purpose, so is Hammond one of yours also? I know Vern is, since he gave me away to the Aedox, and Matron Ancilla because she noticed my trick with the Deer Horn knives and didn’t tell anyone.”

  “No, Hammond isn’t on anyone’s side. He only cares about what’s going to benefit him, so he’s waiting to see who has the upper hand before deciding where his loyalties will be.” Edom leans his head back, shoving his hands in the pockets of his robe, and swings the garment around himself. “Our way of life is dependent upon the Patrician. If the Dracken start a war, we’ll all die.”

  I cross my arms in front of my chest and place my weight on my leg. “Explain.”

  “Can I pour myself a drink first?” He gestures towards a bar behind the desk I’m next to.

  I nod and move out of the way as he crosses the floor. He pours himself a drink, gulps the contents, and pours another.

  “We aren’t the first to live here, but we may be the last.”

  “That’s cryptic.”

  Anger creases his face. He slams the glass down on the top of the desk. “The Patrician are very particular on what kind of society they want. Any signs of rebellion and they will do anything to stop it, including killing millions of their own people.”

  “That’s how the Dead Zone was created.”

  He nods, picks up the glass, and refills it. “The Outer Limits and Tarsus only exist because of the destruction done to the people who lived in the Dead Zone. Only back then it was called Pentras.”

  “What a minute? The winner of the event gets to go to Pentras. Are you saying t
hey’re reopening the Dead Zone?”

  He sighs. “I don’t know what the Keepers are doing, honestly. It may be their way of reigniting the past.”

  “And the Patrician are trying to prevent this by using me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?”

  “So they don’t have to nuke another one of their civilizations.” He begins to sway the more he drinks. He sets the glass down and goes back to sit on the couch. The roar from the blaze in the fireplace is causing the temperature in the room to soar to an uncomfortable level, but Hammond seems to be enjoying the warmth. I can’t see his face, but his posture is showing he’s relaxed.

  “What about my parents?”

  “They’re dead. And if your next question is who killed them, well you’re looking at him.”

  “Why?” I ask trying to sound angry. I don’t really remember my parents, so I can’t conjure up any real feelings on the matter.

  “For our safety, Max. I thought if the creators of the Dracken were dead, the whole group would cease to exist, but I was wrong. You joining them only solidifies their existence.” He turns to face me, laying his arm over the back of the couch. “If only you would see the danger you’ve put everyone in.”

  “It looks to me like society did it to itself.”

  “You may have a death wish, but I sure don’t.”

  He turns his back to me. My hand grips into a fist, but it doesn’t close around air. I feel the texture of the handle for my Kopis. The Keepers must know I’m here, and they’ve given me a task. I walk around the couch, placing myself between Edom and the fireplace.

  “What about Tilda? Where did you take her?”

  He sees the weapon, and his eyes widen. “She’s with your parents.”

  I thrust the blade into his stomach. “Cil was correct I am your executioner.” I twist the blade, driving it in deeper.

  He gurgles as blood escapes his lips. I pull out the Kopis and Edom falls to the side. I hear the front door open followed by heavy footsteps. I know it’s the Aedox, so I loop back to the training room. Matron Kaniz is waiting for me when I arrive. She points towards the shelf, so I place my Kopis on it. In seconds it’s gone, probably back in the weapons room, or being cleaned.

  “Did you learn anything useful?” Matron Kaniz asks as she’s in the process of opening the door.

  “Only that everyone who ever cared about me is dead.”

  “How does that make you feel?”

  “Angry. The Patrician need to pay for what they’ve done and may do.”

  We leave the room. Only a few people are still up. I go into the bedroom, take a quick shower, mainly to wash the blood from my hand and cleanse my wounds, dress, and get under the covers. Sleep comes quickly.

  Seventeen

  The glass of our apartment window is warm from the sun. I’m amazed by the colors captured in the light that’s refracting onto the carpeting beneath my feet. I curl my toes in it, savoring the softness. The plaza below is full of people scurrying about, their arms loaded down with packages, or dining in the outdoor café by the lobby of our building. I’ve always loved being able to see Pentras Tower from our home. It stands tall and majestic. I’m not permitted to go inside. No children are allowed inside, which is odd to me.

  My mother has been out all morning getting provisions for the festival. Patrician Day has always been my favorite holiday. It’s the one time a year that everyone is allowed out, especially children. It’s not often we’re permitted to leave our dwellings. If we have to travel with our parents, or see a doctor, we can leave, but otherwise we stay inside. I learn my daily lessons, like all children, from the monitor that hangs in our common room. Just like my parents did. I prefer it actually. I’m not a fan of being around strangers. My father tells me when I turn of age that I will be going to a special academy to learn my trade and meet my mate. That’s three years away, so I try and enjoy my time with my parents as much as I can.

  “Sadie, come here,” my father calls to me.

  I leave my spot by the window and join him in the kitchen. He wants help baking the traditional breads and dishes for Patrician Day. Normally my mother handles this task, but this year my father volunteered to do it. He has his hands elbow deep in dough when I enter the tiny space. I laugh at him, then proceed to help extricate him.

  “Thanks,” he says, wiping his hands on his apron. “I don’t know how your mom does this every year.”

  “How many people are coming tonight?” I ask, rolling up my sleeves and placing an apron over my head, then tying it around my waist.

  “Let me think. Probably at least twenty.”

  “That’s double than previous years. Is there a reason why?”

  He grunts while trying to lift a roasting pan out from under the counter. He sets it down hard next to the stove, plugs it in, and begins filling the pan with various vegetables and cuts of meat. “Yes, but you know I can’t tell you.” He smiles, tosses me an onion, and has me start cutting.

  My mother returns around seven that night, an hour after she was due home. All our guests have already arrived and I’ve been busy entertaining them while my father finishes getting the dishes ready. She apologies to everyone in regard to her lateness, rushes to the back bedroom, and quickly changes.

  My father hands me a plate and tells me to eat in my room. I don’t argue, but I am confused as to why I’m being exiled. Usually I’m permitted to stay and share the festivities with the adults, but not this year. I’ve always been the only child in the group my parents meet with. None have children my age. My parents had me late in their life, so even though I’m only thirteen, my parents are considered elders at the age of fifty-seven. I’m their only child, though sometimes I think they wish they had more.

  I kiss my mother as she joins the room. I carry my plate and close my bedroom door. I turn on the monitor hanging by the back wall, climb onto my bed, and eat while watching the global coverage of Patrician Day. Large banquets are happening all over, and all to give thanks to our creators. My parents aren’t big on government celebrations, but Patrician Day is one they always honor. I asked my father once about the Patrician, but he said to ask my mother. She told me to ask my father, so I stopped asking.

  As soon as I’m done eating, I put my plate on my desk, go into the bathroom to wash my face, and get ready for bed. Fireworks explode outside my window when I return. I turn off my lights so I can enjoy their colors. Of course they’re also showing on the monitor, but at a five second delay. I don’t normally go to bed this early, but it’s been such a hectic day that I’m exhausted. I crawl under the covers and fall asleep to the booms of celebration.

  I don’t feel well when I wake. It’s been several years since the last time we had a happy event in our household. Today is the day my father goes on trial for the murder of my mother. I had only been at the academy a few months when I was called down to the Head Master’s office and informed about the incident, at least that’s what he called it. My father was found covered in my mother’s blood, a knife in his hands. He says it was an accident, but the Aedox detained him anyway for prosecution.

  I dress in my academy uniform, a white, short-sleeved, collared shirt, blue vest with matching pants, and heavy black shoes. I leave my hair down in its curls, just as my father likes. I don’t care for the outfit, but am forced to wear it every day by the Matrons regardless of where I go. I stand at the base of Pentras Tower, home to the academy, and wait in the cold air. The carriage pulls up and I climb inside next to an Aedox. I’m not permitted to sit in the actual court during the proceedings, so I’ll be staying in the family room down the hall and watch the event over the display.

  I don’t know what to believe is the truth. My father and mother loved each other, deeply. I just can’t accept that he would kill her. She was brutally assaulted. Butchered really. The Aedox received an anonymous tip about the incident and that’s how they found my father. I wasn’t allowed to speak with him after the arrest. This is th
e first time I’m being allowed near him.

  The carriage stops and the Aedox escorts me up the steps into the squat building, and down to the family room. I’m the only one in the room, and the door is locked behind me. The monitor takes up almost the entire wall. I sit down on the couch as the display flickers to life, showing a shallow man, too thin for his clothes. I hardly recognize my father, but I know it’s him. He sits alone in a cage in the center of the room. A magistrate seated high above him, propped up like a pedestal.

  “Mr. Faulkner,” the magistrate begins, adjusting his robes, “you have been brought here in regards to the death of your wife. The Patrician have already made their ruling as to your fate. This is simply a final hearing.”

  I knew justice in Pentras was quick, but not that fast. How can the Patrician decide the verdict without knowing all the evidence? Are they going to question anyone as to my father’s character and the love he had for his wife? Doesn’t that mean anything?

  “Mr. Faulkner, it is with great regret that your sentence is death for the murder of your wife.”

  The courtroom gasps, and I scream as tears run down my face. I fall to the floor and place my hand on the monitor, trying to touch my father to let him know I’m there.

  “Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?”

  “Yes. I would like to see my daughter.”

  The magistrate thinks it over, finally agreeing. The courtroom is cleared of all spectators. A pair of Aedox escort me from the family room, down the hallway, and through a secret door by the stairs leading to the second floor. The magistrate is the only one in the room when I enter. The Aedox stay by the door. I approach my father with caution. I know he won’t hurt me, but I can’t tolerate seeing him in this state. He stands and grips the bars in front of him when I’m only a few feet away. I run towards him, taking his hands, and leaning my head against the hard metal that encases him.

  “Sadie, I need you to listen to me. Don’t believe anything you learn, or what anyone tells you. It’s all lies. Leave the academy, get as far from here as possible. My death is just the beginning of many.”