2136: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by Matthew Thrush

  ‘I’m not a volun—’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she urged. ‘You have nothing to worry about. Doctor B will take real good care of you. Just relax now, and it’ll all be over before you know it.’

  ‘And then you’ll let me go?’ I asked. I couldn’t help the hope slipping on my tongue.

  Her eyebrows shifted. Guess that meant I was staying. I slouched my chin back to my chest, and stared off into the green foliage before me.

  The doctor stood there watching me before I heard her release the air she had been holding with a sigh and walk out. The door to the chamber hissed open as she exited. It closed shortly after.

  ‘Perfect,’ I groaned to myself. ‘Just perfect.’

  ≈ Chapter 45 ≈

  I don’t know how long it was before Dr. B entered the greenhouse chamber where I was being held, but it had to have been quite a while because the sprinkler system on the ceiling had come on and showered the plants no less than four times since Dr. A left me to my thoughts. I counted approximately thirty minutes between each spray.

  I didn’t even flinched when the door hissed open and the doctor walked in and began examining me. His gloved hands probed my cheeks, my neck, my shoulders and arms, my breasts and abdomen, every part of my body. I just sat there lost in thought while he finished his due diligence.

  I came back to my senses when he snapped his purples gloves off and tossed them in the same wastebasket Dr. A used. My eyes rolled in his direction as he positioned himself in my sights. I noticed he remained just out of arm’s reach.

  ‘You afraid I might touch you?’ I said with a wicked grin on my face.

  Nothing. Not even a blink out of him. He continued to flip through the folder in his hands.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Did you hear me? I asked if you were afraid of me.’

  ‘I heard you the first time,’ he responded without looking up.

  ‘And…’

  He flipped the folder shut and met my eyes. The dark rings beneath his eyes were at odds with the rest of his flawless face. His dark hair was slicked back behind his ears. The growth on his face was neatly manicured into a beard of no more than a few days. Even, the scattering of white amongst the black, made him look pristine. I stared into those emerald eyes. Eyes unnaturally green and radiating like yellow sapphires. The tint of gold in those green jewels was like tiny phoenixes bursting forth from the ashes of an old life.

  ‘I’m not afraid of you,’ he said with softness in his voice.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I said. ‘Everyone seems to be rather wary of my presence, especially ever since you put me in the same room as Zoey.’

  ‘Who is everyone?’ he asked.

  He wasn’t patronizing with his question, but uniquely sincere. I found myself weakening to his generous simplicity and kindness.

  ‘You know, everyone,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not sure I know the everyone to whom you’re referring. Do you mean Doctor A and I? The soldiers who brought you in here? Or someone else?’

  ‘Mhm,’ I mumbled. ‘All of the above.’

  His lips creased slightly to reveal an uneven row of teeth stained with the dark coloring of liquid substance he must have been drinking in excess the last several months.

  I found myself thinking I was glad to see some flaw in his face. I was beginning to think he wasn’t human, his only imperfect had been the dark circles under his eyes, and even they had a softness about them that belied reality and the dark absence of light and rescue down in this dungeon a mile below the sea.

  My mouth felt dry so I licked my lips, but my tongue was so brittle that it felt like sandpaper was being brushed along the soft tissue.

  ‘Thirsty?’ the doctor asked.

  I nodded, afraid that if I spoke I’d reveal too much of the inner demons of lust that were filtering through my every sense. You would think I never had seen a man before from the way my body was reacting. Well, now that you mention it, the guys I was used to seeing were either dirtied by the searing heat and sand, old and greying, or a father figure. Not to mention, living in a radioactive-sensitive environment didn’t really allow for many romantic developments. We were all too busy surviving to even take notice. And as for me, I locked myself away in my studies and experiments.

  There had been one boy once. I forget his name. We were both too young to understand what love was, but I knew that if we had, it was what we felt for each other. We used to build forts in the sand and pretend we were heroes from the sky coming down to save the world below. Then we’d hear the sirens go off to signal the next radiation spike and we’d have to depart to our own shelters. It was during one of those instances when I saw his gentle face for the last time. That night there had been an unnaturally strong storm blow through. My parents and I lived near one of the old buildings reinforced with steel and concrete. We had managed through the night, but Henley, yeah, that was his name, hadn’t fared so well. He and his parents weren’t as fortunate as us and they were swept away in the night by the high winds. When morning came, I went looking for my friend to see if he’d want to join me in a new adventure of digging up buried treasure from the storm. But when I got to where his tent should have been, he was gone. Only a hill of sand and dust remained. The digging I would do in the days to come did not reap good treasure; just dead bodies. That was the beginning of the numbness.

  We had lost nearly a hundred people that night. It had really caused a change in my father. I never understood why he lost his voice, but after that night, he never said a word. That is, until he spoke his last words to me before he succumbed to the cold hand of the afterlife.

  The handsome doctor touched my arm, sending shivers through my body like electricity.

  ‘Hey, welcome back,’ he said. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but I think he was doing his best to be friendly. ‘We lost you there for a bit. Where did you go?’

  Somewhere I never want to go again, I thought.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Just reminiscing.’

  ‘I hope it was a good memory at least,’ he said.

  ‘Not exactly,’ I said coldly.

  Electricity gone. Back to real world, Willow. Daydreaming and fantasies are for ignorant children who play in the sand. Best you pull your head out of it and see the world for what it is.

  ‘Sorry. Doesn’t seem like it would be, does it, in the world we live in?’ he said, not bothered by my sharp response.

  Who was this man? Why was he being nice to me? Unlike Dr. A, Dr. B was—engaging, for lack of a better word.

  ‘Why are you being nice to me?’ I asked, vocalizing my thoughts. What was the point of holding it in, anyway?

  ‘Should I be something else?’ he asked right back.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘I guess not,’ I said. ‘It’s just weird.’

  ‘I’ve never been called weird before,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about it.’

  He smiled again and reached out his hand towards me.

  ‘Thirsty?’ he asked again.

  ‘Parched,’ I said, and ripped the canteen from his delicate hands.

  My fingers accidentally brushed against the top of his hand. His skin was soft, unlike the brittle and coarse parchment that was mine. The familiar nausea returned momentarily in my abdomen, but didn’t possess the stark discomfort as you might imagine when you’re sick. It was something different. Something new. Something I could not explain.

  I uncapped the lid and shoved the canteen’s lips to my own. I gurgled down five large gulps before taking a breath.

  ‘Wow, you are thirsty,’ he laughed.

  ‘Sorry,’ I gasped, wiping my lips with my arm. ‘I don’t mean to took like a slob.’

  I placed the canteen to my lips again, but this time managed to drink it with more control.

  ‘No need to apologize. You won’t get any judgment from me,’ he said. ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘You got something to eat?’ I asked.

  ‘We’re all done for
now. I’ll bring you something from the chow hall in an hour or two when I come check on you again.’

  I held the canteen in my hands, unsure of whether to give it back or keep it. My throat and dry tongue ached for more.

  He must have seen it in my eyes.

  ‘Keep it,’ he said. ‘I have another.’

  I took another swallow and recapped the canteen.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  He nodded his head and walked to the bay door leading out of the greenhouse.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I said as I heard the familiar hiss of the bearings releasing pressure.

  ‘Doctor B—’

  ‘No,’ I cut him off. ‘What’s your real name?’

  There was a pause and I could hear his steady breathing just behind me. I could feel my heart racing to the sound of that deep thrum within his chest.

  ‘Andrew,’ he said. ‘My name is Andrew Benson.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Andrew. I’m Willow,’ I said.

  It felt weird to say his name.

  ‘You too,’ he said.

  The door hissed shut behind him.

  Hmm. Well, Andrew. I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I like it. Please come back soon.

  ≈ Chapter 46 ≈

  Andrew did come back as he promised, but it wasn’t in an hour or two.

  Three days had gone by before I heard the door hiss open and the sound of footsteps echoing towards my rear. After the first day, I had soon concluded that the rhythmic spray of the sprinklers overhead repeated every thirty minutes for three hours in the morning, and three hours in the evening. The gentle shower rinsed the trees with moist dew and kept them perpetually saturated. At least, that was my assumption and what I based my days on.

  He walked straight past me with a tray in his hands and a sour expression etched across his face. He placed the tray, along with its contents, on the rim of the railing holding up the tree rows, and sat down. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers for several seconds as if he had forgotten I was there.

  I cleared my throat to get his attention.

  His hands slid along his firm jawline and slapped into his lap. The circles beneath his green orbs were darker than before. He looked like someone had smacked him across the face several times, or ripped out his eyes and stuffed them into their sockets backwards.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, the moment I saw the lines on his forehead crease into deep caverns. His beauty seemed to have faded slightly since the last time I had seen him. He looked distracted, to say the least.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I got—’

  ‘Busy,’ I said, finishing his sentence for him.

  His green eyes looked at me, but they were a million miles away.

  ‘Exactly,’ he said, looking right through me.

  I watched him attentively while he struggled to come back to the present. When his eyes regained their color and lost the sheet of gloss, I broke the silence.

  ‘What’s on the tray?’ I asked.

  My voice seemed to wake him the rest of the way from his introspection.

  ‘Oh!’ he said, finally awake. ‘I brought you something to eat.’

  He picked up the tray and briskly walked over to me and set the tray down on the armrests of the steel chair I was till fastened to. I took the tray from him and held it in my lap.

  ‘Hope you like shepherd’s pie,’ he said.

  ‘Is that what this is?’

  I dug the fork into the side of the glob on the porcelain plate and the innards of the pie oozed out. I scooped up a small section and placed it on my tongue. My cheeks burned and my jaw locked up as the saliva glands went into full motion. I had barely managed to swallow the first bite before I jammed two more mouthfuls in. I finished the morsel within seconds and went to lick the plate.

  My tongue was hanging out of my mouth, pieces of pie along the rim of my upper lip, when I stopped. He was watching me intently. I thought better of it for a second, then licked the plate anyway. Why not, I thought. I was starving! I sat the plate back on the tray and held it out for him to take. He did so and laid it on the concrete barrier that housed the trees.

  My stomach rumbled as the intestines wiggled and grabbed for the sustenance. The ache in my stomach only worsened as I licked my lips. I wanted more.

  ‘I’m supposed to ask you a few questions,’ he said after laying the tray down.

  ‘If you get me something else to eat, I’ll answer anything you want,’ I said with enthusiasm.

  He seemed to brood on that for a bit. He held out his hand.

  ‘Deal,’ he said.

  I placed my hand in his and he shook it firmly. His hands were ice cold. I retracted my hand and cupped it in my lap, rubbing my fingers with my other hand to rinse away the sting.

  ‘How are you feeling today?’ he asked, moving right in with the questions.

  ‘Fine,’ I said.

  ‘Anything out of the ordinary?’ he asked.

  Like what? Being chained to a steel chair below the ocean? Nah, nothing out of the ordinary at all.

  ‘Any headaches, chills, nausea, loss of eyesight or ringing in the ears?’ he continued.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Just hungry.’

  He pulled out a small notepad from his lab coat pocket and started jotting down notes.

  ‘Any fever?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Any muscle aches, abdominal pain, or unexplained fits of vertigo?’

  I shook my head. He wrote more down in his pad.

  ‘Why all the questions, Doc?’ I asked. ‘I thought I was fine.’

  He didn’t look up and spoke as he wrote.

  ‘For now, yes,’ he said. ‘We are monitoring your symptoms and vitals before we deem it safe to take you to the next stage.’

  ‘The next stage?’ I repeated.

  ‘Yeah,’ he looked up from his notepad.

  His green eyes locked on mine and he stared at me for a long while as if trying to dissect me. I could feel my forehead furrowing the longer he scrutinized me.

  ‘If you’re trying to pry my thoughts from my mind, I’m sorry to tell you, you’re in for a long night,’ I said.

  He jotted something else down on the pad.

  ‘What are you writing down, anyway?’ I asked.

  ‘Notes,’ he said curtly.

  ‘What kind of notes?’ I probed.

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘Any nightmares? Any unexplained visions or voices in your head?’ he asked, ignoring my question.

  Voices? In my head? Yeah, Doc. All-the-time!!

  ‘No, nothing,’ I said instead. ‘Is there something wrong with me? Should I be feeling all these symptoms? Should I be hearing things?’

  He scribbled a few more lines on his pad then flicked the notepad closed, and replaced it in his coat pocket.

  ‘That depends,’ he said.

  ‘Depends on what?’

  ‘Whether you’re infected.’

  Infected? I thought you gave me a serum to rid my body of the lethal pathogen, I found myself thinking.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, sensing my distress, ‘you have no signs of infection. The contagion doesn’t seem to have latched on to any of your cells.’

  ‘Is that good?’ I asked.

  He nodded.

  ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘Doctor A will be in shortly to administer the next dose and ask you a few more questions. If everything goes according to plan, and you cooperate, you should be out of here within a few days.’

  According to plan? What plan? A few more days! I won’t last another few days in here. I could feel my mind slipping further away from the edges of sanity as we spoke.

  ‘Doc— I mean, Andrew please,’ I said. ‘What’s going on? Why am I here? What tests are you running? Please, I just want to know what’s going on and if my uncle is all right.’

  His green eyes were veiled emeralds of knowledge and information; unwilling or unable to disc
lose their vast scope of mystery, I could not tell which.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I am not at liberty to discuss. Doctor A will answer all your questions.’

  He picked up the tray and walked to the door.

  ‘Remember,’ he said, ‘if you cooperate and tell us what we want to know, those chains will be removed, and you’ll be free to walk the facility unaided.’

  The door hissed and he was gone.

  I screamed in frustration and thrashed my legs against the restraints. My hands tore at my hair and fell to my lap.

  ‘Let me out of here!’

  ≈ Chapter 47 ≈

  ‘Quite some vocals you have there,’ a voice said from somewhere in the room.

  I looked up, peering through my dangling hair, for the source of the voice.

  ‘I hear you want to know why you're here,’ the voice continued.

  I brushed a strand of hair from my eye and scanned the greenhouse.

  ‘You know, they're never going to tell you,’ the voice said.

  ‘And why is that?’ I asked, not knowing what else to do.

  Perhaps if I played along, the voice would reveal itself.

  ‘Because you scare them,’ the voice said.

  ‘Scare them? I'm the one tied down with chains and being treated like a lab animal. Why would they be afraid of me?’

  The voice seemed to hiss like a snake, rising on the rill of the mist falling from the sprinklers overhead. The tops of the trees and the smaller plants swayed slightly as if parting for what walked through. But as the final tree shifted I fully expected to see someone standing there among the underbrush and lower foliage, erect and towering over me from the concrete slab that contained all the trees within this dormitory. But instead, there was nothing. Just empty air and the sound of synthesized rain sprinkling from the white metallic rafters overhead, and the silver piping that stretched in every which way as far as I could see into the beyond. The depth of the room was a mystery, but I imagined from the sheer size of the trees growing within this BioDome, it had to extend quite far. Considering the fact this entire facility was a secret and constructed miles under the water, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if this section alone was a mile long.