Fall of Venus

by Daelynn Quinn

  I took Evie into town one day to pick up some groceries. I didn’t watch a lot of TV after my parents passed so I didn’t really know what to expect. Our bunker was fully stocked with canned and boxed food, but we needed some milk and a few other perishables.

  We took the back roads into town and in hindsight that wasn’t the wisest choice. If we had taken the main road, we would have turned around, gone home, and avoided the pandemonium erupting in town.

  Sick people were crawling along the streets. Well people trampling over them, some even beating them with metal poles into a bloody pulp. Others were breaking the glass on shop windows and looting them of every last item. The roads and sidewalks were covered with vomit, feces, and bloodied facial masks. As Evie and I walked down Main Street hand in hand, I recognized a local shop owner crushing some poor man’s skull with a fire extinguisher. He looked up and we made eye contact. I gulped and my heart raced. When he took a step toward us, we ducked into the grocery store.

  The grocery store looked like a tornado struck within the building. Shelves were bare and broken. Ripped boxes spilled crushed cereal and dried pasta all over the floor. Evie and I carefully stepped over broken glass shards and the soles of our shoes peeled from the sticky floor with a criccht! The floor of the produce department looked like one giant salad bowl. People were running amok through the aisles. Infected people standing in the long, twisted line for the pharmacy were beating each other, trying to get ahead in line.

  I’d never seen anything like this in my life. Well, maybe in movies and on TV, but that’s nothing like actually living it. The fear. The panic. The despair. It all came crashing down on me and I knew I had to get out of there.

  I grabbed Evie and turned to leave, but a woman blocked our path. Her face was ghost white and sagging, with sunken orifices for eyes. Her skin and clothes laced with blood. She grabbed my shoulders and coughed blood in my face.

  “Help me please! Help me,” she begged. I squeezed Evie’s hand and shoved the woman off of me. She fell to the floor with a thud. I’m such a horrible person, I thought. I didn’t even look back.

  Outside, a tall, lanky man tried to grab Evie. But I refused to let go of her hand. He was stronger than I, so I had to run along with them for a short distance, before my hands found a heavy brick on a ledge outside a shattered shop window to pummel him with. I picked up Evie and carried her while running down Main Street, dodging sick people and evading the crazies. Back at the car, as soon as the engine started, people were climbing on the hood, clawing at the windows like some horrifying scene out of a zombie flick. I drove off, not caring what happened to those poor souls.

  From that point on, Evie and I stayed home and kept the doors locked. We stayed peacefully in the house, playing dolls and games, sharing stories, and dressing up. Until we were taken away. I will find her again. Nothing will stop me.

  * * *

  My body is stiff as a corpse in rigor mortis. I am lying on an icy cold, hard, metal surface and my limbs are strapped down so tight I couldn’t move if I wanted to. My head is hammering and feels like it is squeezed on both sides, like a child popping a balloon. Whatever place I am at now, the light must be blinding since I can see the bright red of the undersides of my eyelids. It all comes back to me—the car crash. I know I’ve been recaptured and I’m terrified to open my eyes and face the reality that lies before me. But I can’t keep them hidden forever. I can’t be selfish now. I have to find Evie.

  I hear the hurried footsteps of multiple people all around me, along with some hushed voices, and the clanging of small metal tools. My eyelids flutter and open into a bright spotlight shining down on me, piercing my skull like a dagger. I think I’m in some sort of medical facility: white walls, bright lights, machines with patterned lights flickering, and trays of scalpels, forceps, and other small instruments.

  “She’s waking up,” I hear a hard female voice behind me. Everything is still a little blurry, but I manage to regain some sense of consciousness fairly quickly. A balding spectacled man, wrinkled with age, leans over me and flashes a light into my left eye, then my right, and repeats this a few times. I try to turn my head to look around, but it won’t budge. It’s stuck in a vise.

  “Do you know where you are?” the man asks me in a deep husky voice, aged by too many years of smoking.

  My voice comes out hoarse and breathy, but I manage to mouth, “Crimson?”

  He turns to someone outside my field of vision and nods then walks away. There’s more shuffling around me and the table under me vibrates. The table begins to tilt, angling my feet downward as my head rises up, until the table is almost vertical and my feet nearly touch the floor. Three armed men in blue uniforms, Enforcers, stand rigidly in front of me. One of them holds my hands down as my arms and legs are released from their restraints, while another prepares to cuff them. The third man just stands in front of me aiming the barrel of his gun at me in readiness. As if I could possibly flee in this condition.

  After I’m released and cuffed I am escorted out of the wing. My legs are heavy and wobbly and the Enforcers are forced to halfway carry me as I clumsily try to take steps, tripping over my own toes. I’m still too busy trying to orient myself to worry about where they are taking me. They march me down a long hallway, descend several floors in an elevator, then by the time my feet catch up with me, we are meandering through a tenebrous labyrinth. The hallways are made of stone and thick, steel, numbered doors line the walls every few feet. The air is cold and damp, and smells of mold and mildew and urine. Wherever they are taking me, it’s certainly not going to be paradise.

  We finally stop at door D319. While two Enforcers hold me on either side, the third Enforcer takes off a glove and places his hand on a monitor next to the door. There is a double beeping sound and a light flashes green. Then he places his eye next to another, smaller, monitor to be scanned. Another double beep and green flash. Finally, he slides open the heavy latch, causing an ear-piercing screech to echo through the labyrinth. The two Enforcers drag me in, although I don’t put up much resistance. The door slams shut and I can hear all the screeches, clicks and beeps of the heavy door being locked behind me.

  My prison cell is no larger than the bathroom I took a shower in last night. Was it last night, or have I been out longer than that? A single light bulb that hangs from the ceiling is barely bright enough to cast a shadow. In the back left corner is a dingy toilet. No toilet paper. No sink. No bed. No chair. Nothing but a nasty toilet and a light bulb. I feel a discomfort in my belly and I begin to heave, but nothing comes out. I am cold and dehydrated, but I am not ready to give up. I am on a mission. I have found purpose in my life and I will not give up until Evie is safe and far away from this nightmare.

  Nobody has spoken to me since I woke up. I don’t know how long I will be in this dungeon, but I’m sure it will be a considerable amount of time. Time to think. Time to remember. Time to plan.

  I sit on the floor against the wall furthest from the toilet. I notice my headache beginning to fade—they must have given me painkillers in the medical unit—but the burning in my temple still remains. I’ve been tagged again, just as Myra warned. The fuzziness in my mind is clearing and I’m worried about Marcus. I envision his limp body lying against the passenger door, and I, unable to revive him. He must be here somewhere. Is he getting medical attention? Is he down here, in one of these cells? I have to find him, but how?

  My mind is overwhelmed with thoughts racing in and out. They run through so quickly I have little time to focus on anything specific. I need to quiet my thoughts and sink deeper into my psyche if I am to figure things out.

  I think back to a yoga class I took while I was pregnant with Lex. At the end we would do a five-minute meditation to relax. I take a deep breath, filling every inch of space in my lungs until I can hold no more air, then I let it out with one long, voluminous exhale. Then again. Then again. I continue to breathe and force my thoughts to subside until my mind is clear and empty.
I have no concept of time now. My meditation takes over and I am sinking deeper and deeper into my own inner sanctuary. Finally, I let go. A void fills my mind, slithering its way down to the tips of my fingers and toes, where I reach a point of tranquility.

  But soon something enters my mind. A thought. No, a memory. It’s Marcus. We are standing next to each other in a room full of people I don’t recognize. I’m crying. He puts his arm around me and asks if I’m okay. I look up and see those breathtaking sea blue eyes looking down at me in concern. Then another memory. We are running in a field surrounded by darkness and spotlights, being chased. Marcus turns to me and tells me we need to split up. Then before we part, he holds me close and anchors his lips to mine, in a moment I wanted to last forever. Our first kiss. Then he pushes me away and we run off in separate directions.

  My repose is disrupted when I hear a thundering at the door. It screeches open slightly and a figure walks in, closing the door behind him. I stand up, steadying myself on the wall until the dizziness subsides. As the figure draws closer my heart thumps with anger. I raise my arms above my head, still handcuffed, and bring them down on Glenn’s face, leaving claw marks in his skin.

  He grabs my hands and holds them down, presses me to the wall and forces his slimy mouth to mine before I whip my head to the side breaking free of it.

  “Who the hell are you?” I scream at him.

  “Polly, I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen. Not like this,” he says.

  “I don’t want your apologies. I want answers,” I demand, scowling at him.

  Glenn loosens his grip on me and brushes his hand over his hair. The dim light highlights his boyish features and also reveals a shorter haircut since I last saw him. A glimmer reflects off his cheek where a drop of blood is forming over the scratch I just gave him. His jaw on the left side is swollen and I notice some other superficial cuts, and assume they are a result of the car crash.

  “I know,” he says. “And you deserve to know the truth. Polly, you can’t keep running. You can’t defy these people. You won’t survive.”

  Who is this man? Where is the Glenn I knew and loved? The man standing before me knows nothing about me or what I’ve done to survive. This man disgusts me.

  “So you want me to be like you. You want me to join them and be one of them, so what? So I can bring this upon other innocent people?” I wave my cuffed arms around me indicating the deplorable conditions I’m in.

  “Polly, they put you down here as punishment. Because you ran. If you would just come with me, pledge your loyalty, we can be free again. You and me. We can have the life we always wanted.” Glenn draws closer to me, beginning to place his hands on my shoulders, when I suddenly move aside to avoid his touch. It makes my skin crawl.

  “No, Glenn. That’s not the life I want. I don’t think it’s what you want either.” I turn away and lean my shoulder against the wall. It’s all I can do to keep from falling over and it helps me to hide my frailty from him.

  “All I want is to be with you,” he says lightly brushing my cheek. I snap my head back, ready to drive my teeth into his fingers if he tries that again.

  “You’ll never be free, Glenn. Once they are done with you, you’ll be one of us. The only difference is, you’ll be among the people you yourself turned in. I doubt they will be very forgiving.”

  Then they start coming back. The memories start flooding my mind and my body starts shaking with anger and fear, and despair. I specifically remember a life-altering exchange between Glenn and me here, at Crimson, and now I understand. Now I know why I felt so troubled with Glenn at my house, why it felt so wrong.

  “We’re done, Glenn. Get out,” I say, glaring at him. The tension in the room changes. I can feel the anguish pouring from him, even though he refuses to show it. But despite my feelings for him I stand my ground. I have to look out for myself now. And Evie. And Glenn cannot be trusted anymore.

  “I said get out!” I shout as I push him toward the door. He pushes it open then he turns to look back at me. All I can see is his silhouette against the light in the hallway.

  “I’ll always love you, Pollen. Remember that.”

  The door shuts and I can hear the scraping of the latch securing it. I lean my head on my arms against the wall and release the tears I’ve bottled up. Then I explode like a psychotic woman, screaming my frustrations into the emptiness, kicking and punching the thick stone walls. After I’ve thoroughly discharged my rage, I sit back down, feeling stronger and more resolved than ever. I don’t need him. Never did.

  Chapter 15

  Now that the memories are rushing back I try to make sense of everything, put it back in order and make a mental timeline of what occurred.

  After my parents died, and Evie and I were taken by the Enforcers, we were put in the back of a box truck. There were three other people with us in the dark cargo area, lit only with an old rusty, camping lantern: a gray-haired, bearded man, probably in his sixties; a middle-aged woman with dark skin and short, frizzy hair; and a twenty-something young man, who introduced himself to me as Marcus.

  “I’m Pollen,” I said. “And this is my niece, Evie.” Her arms squeezed my waist like a belt cinched two sizes too tight as I stroked her light tawny hair trying to comfort her. “Do you know where they are taking us?” I asked, still incredibly shaken from the intrusion.

  “I overheard some guys talking about a camp for survivors,” said the old man.

  “I heard they’re taking us to a hospital to be quarantined, just in case,” pipes in the woman.

  “No, there’s no point to putting us in quarantine,” said Marcus. “We’ve already been exposed and we’re fine.”

  “Yes, we may not be sick, but we could certainly be carrying the virus. And if we can spread it just as easily as the sick can, we’re just as dangerous,” said the woman, obviously knowledgeable about epidemics. I thought she might have been a nurse.

  “Have you picked up a newspaper lately,” Marcus retorted. “Or seen the news? The entire country has been exposed. Unless they’re shipping us to the south, they’ve got other plans in store for us.”

  I eyed Marcus curiously, “What do you think they want with us?”

  “Oh Lord, here we go,” started the woman, rolling her eyes and shifting her seat. Marcus slid over to sit closer to me as if he didn’t want the others to hear.

  “I’ve heard rumors,” he whispered, “that there are some people, rich, powerful people, hiding out down in the bunkers to avoid exposure. And the survivors are being rounded up for genetic experimentation. I’m not a scientist so I don’t know details. And then there’s another rumor that they plan on nuking the entire continent of Deimos and starting a colony down there. Either way, I have a bad feeling about this.” His ominous suggestions sent chills down my spine. Evie squeezed me tighter.

  “Auntie Pollen, what is he talking about?” she asked, through a veil of tears.

  I looked down at her, but before I could answer, Marcus leaned over me to address Evie, “Nothing you need to worry about, darling. We’re just going on a little adventure. Your aunt will take good care of you.” He smiled at me and placed his hand on my knee, giving it a light rub. His reassurance actually put me at ease as well, even after his foreboding comments.

  The ride to Crimson was long and uncomfortable. Most of the time was spent in silence, with some occasional chitchat. Marcus told me about his work and his mother, whom he took care of. I talked about Drake and Evie, and my engagement to Glenn. At some point I fell asleep.

  When I awoke I was lying against Marcus’s shoulder, with Evie’s head resting on my lap. We’d arrived at Crimson late at night. Marcus stayed with Evie and me while we entered a massive building to be processed. There were Enforcers lined up by the entrance and armed guards followed us in.

  We entered a large warehouse-sized room with blinding white lights. Despite it being the middle of the night, the room was filled with people. Most were like me: confused, angry,
wanting answers. We stood in a winding line, separated by ropes, so long I couldn’t even see what was at the end of it. I welcomed being on my feet for a while since I’d been sitting in that truck for what seemed like hours. Marcus continued to keep Evie and me company while we waited in line for almost two hours. He told Evie fairy tale stories and jokes that make her crack up like an eggshell. I thought he’d make a great father one day.

  A woman sitting at a table with some paperwork signaled me to proceed. I brought Evie with me. This part of the memory is cloudy, perhaps because I was distracted by Evie, or Marcus, or maybe just the atmosphere of the room.

  Next, Evie and I were walking down a long brightly lit corridor along with a mob of other tired, confused, and angry people. There were doors at each side, most of which had a small rectangular window at eye level. As we passed one of them, Evie stopped. She tugged my arm. “What is it?” I asked.

  She pointed into the door, which was mistakenly left ajar, “It’s Glenn! He’s here!”

  My insides quivered in hopeless grief. I recalled his name in the newspaper deceased list, which I crumpled up and threw in the recycle bin in an act of denial. I squatted down, on the verge of spilling my tears, and said, “No, honey. That’s not possible. That man just looks…” I turned to look and couldn’t believe my own eyes. It was Glenn. I cracked the door open a little more to get a better look. He was standing with two other men, all of them in blue uniform, Enforcers. A fourth man in civilian clothing lay under them on the floor, unconscious.

  “Glenn!” I burst through the door running towards him, ready to embrace him. But he turned and gave me a stern, cold look, which stopped me in my tracks. I’d never seen him like this before. Angry, yes. Jealous, yes. But this was something different. This was…disdain.