by Tom Fletcher
‘No turning back now,’ I say, as the last of the drug flows down the clear tube and into my vein.
He unscrews the now empty syringe and attaches the next.
‘This one will feel strange,’ he says. ‘It’s to stop ice forming in your cells.’
‘Like anti-freeze?’ I ask.
‘Exactly,’ he replies. ‘It’s non-toxic but it’s not designed to be used on conscious subjects. It will allow your cells to freeze without becoming stiff. It prevents the damage of traditional freezing.’
‘Clever stuff,’ I remark.
‘Once it’s in your system we must wait three minutes for it to distribute evenly around your body before you enter the tank. If your cells don’t contain this drug they will not survive the rapid cooling process.’
He slowly pushes down on the syringe and starts a timer on his watch.
Three minutes.
I feel this medical grade anti-freeze flow into my body. It tingles at the spot on my arm where it enters, like cool pins and needles. The tingling spreads up my arm – and suddenly I’m engulfed. It’s the strangest sensation I’ve ever felt. It’s as though I’m aware of all the veins in my body. I feel them. All of them. All the thousands of intricate tunnels and pathways winding around my organs, twisting through my limbs. They’re all alive, like they’ve been wired with electricity.
It intensifies. The tingles become stabbing pains. Deep shocks strike every part of my body – invisible fingers with razor-sharp edges tighten around my brain. My body convulses uncontrollably. I fall back on to the top of the closed tank and, through the shakes and twitches, I hear Dr Oliva call down to his assistants for help.
I black out momentarily. Suddenly three bodies are standing over me.
‘Bram,’ I hear Dr Oliva calling.
‘I’m … I’m okay,’ I say, sitting up. My head spins. My body feels weak.
‘Your heart is slowing. You have one minute before you can be submerged in the chamber. Stay calm and breathe through the pain. Your body still needs oxygen,’ Dr Oliva instructs.
Another wave of stabbing washes through me.
‘Sedative,’ I hear Dr Oliva request. ‘This will calm your seizures,’ he tells me, as he sticks a needle into my neck.
The alarm sounds on his wristwatch.
‘It’s time,’ he says.
My body is limp. Vision blurs. I cannot stand.
The three men hook their arms under mine and hoist me upright.
Below, at the base of the tank, I see a large, hazy figure.
‘Chubs,’ I shout, but only a mumbled whisper escapes.
The men wobble with my dead-weight as they carefully lift me over the open tank.
‘We must lower him swiftly,’ Dr Oliva’s voice instructs, while straining to hold me steady, along with his two colleagues.
‘Chubs …’ I call again, as my head flops forward. I don’t have the strength to lift it.
The men hold me over the liquid nitrogen. My feet dangle a few inches. I can’t feel them now. I can’t feel anything. My mind is escaping as I face my fate, the tank beneath me. The floating woman.
‘On my count,’ Dr Oliva calls. ‘Three, two, one …’
As I fall into the tank the world fades. I feel no cold. The super-cooled liquid freezes every cell in my body but the chemicals Dr Oliva put in my blood prevent them turning to ice. For the briefest of moments, a fraction of a second, I’m engulfed in the most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced. This fleeting moment of unbearable suffering ends abruptly with the sound of Chubs’s worried voice echoing around the hull as he cries out to me: ‘For Eve’.
61
Eve
My eyes open to the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen. Purples, pinks, oranges and blues fill the window in front of me, all bleeding into each other to paint the perfect picture of harmony. As I lie there, looking at its splendour, it would be easy to forget my own reservations about the day ahead and what’s to come. To believe that Mother Nature is trying to will me on. Why else would she shower us with her artistry and grace today and every day for as long as I can remember? She’s luring us in, constantly winning us over, telling us we need to prolong our existence with her on this earth.
The heavy block that’s sitting in my stomach says otherwise. It fills me with a sense of foreboding and doom – my life is about to be crushed, controlled and discarded, my dreams tossed aside for others’ gain, but not for the benefit of my children. Instead I’ll be starting a chain of women who’ll all be treated in this way. Giving life for no life to be lived. Producing another little cog.
I’d rather have woken up to see nothing at all. A sea of black would have been my own preference on this pitiful day.
Mother Kadi walks in.
Pills.
Breakfast.
The same old routine yet this time it feels very different.
As Mother Kadi straightens the sheets around me I hear a thump on the floor. She bends down and picks up my mother’s book. It’s been living under my pillow, so I must have moved it while I was asleep.
I take it from her and rest it on my lap as I look at the garden outside my bedroom window. It’s not as beautiful as it once was, so I turn away and look down at the object in my hands instead – a book that’s filled with my mother’s hopes for me to live a life of love and freedom. Words she wrote for me. She could never have known her life would end so abruptly, that she’d be taken from me within minutes of our meeting, but in this book she’d written words of love, encouragement and support. When it’s in my hands it’s as though she’s with me.
I flick through it, absorbing snippets, until a lump forms in my throat.
I’ve failed her. I’m nowhere near the girl she thought I’d be.
My fingertips find the extra page, added in secret. One line stands out to me.
You are loved. You are yours. Not mine, not theirs. Remember that.
I wish I knew how to make that a reality, because right now it feels like everything I am is theirs.
62
Bram
I can hear.
It’s the first thing I’m aware of.
I hear the humming of a machine. The beeping of a heart monitor. The hissing of fresh oxygen being pumped into the room. It’s all so piercing and harsh.
I can’t feel my body.
Suddenly my sense of smell returns, as if someone’s flicked a switch. Scents punch me in the face and overwhelm my foggy mind. Sterilized equipment; washed linen; even glass. Everything seems to have a distinct smell. These scents grouped together create a picture in my mind, one that I recognize instantly.
The Tower.
My mind races, firing so many questions. Why am I here? What’s happened? Where’s Eve?
Eve.
I remember.
The Freevers. Ernie. The cryo-tank.
Has it worked?
I’m inside the Tower.
I try to open my eyes but they’re not ready yet. My eyelids remain closed.
If I can smell, I must be breathing. I try to focus my thoughts on the steady flow of air, in and out of my mouth. After a few moments I notice the repetitive rise and fall of my chest as it rubs against the sheet covering me.
A sudden blast of noise explodes in my ears as the door to whatever place I’m in slides open. I hear it click shut again and lock.
I try to speak.
Nothing.
I try to move.
Nothing.
Complete paralysis.
I hear footsteps. Someone checks the heart monitor, then slumps into a seat at my side, a button or zip on their clothing scuffing the plastic of the chair. Just relying on my hearing makes it all so sharp and vivid.
Then I hear his breath. A sigh.
‘Hartman …’ The breathy sound escapes my mouth without my needing to think, fuelled by a wave of adrenalin at the thought of the plan working, the thought of freeing Eve.
‘Bram!’ Hartman whispers excitedly
. ‘You’re awake? Can you hear me?’
‘Ern … ie?’ I muster just enough strength to mutter his name before the black world turns blacker and I’m gone again.
I sit bolt upright.
My throat burns. I can’t breathe. I gasp for air. Lashing out, reaching for nothing, I roll off the bed and hit the floor hard. It illuminates as it connects with my skin and glows a soft blue.
I can see.
‘Bram!’ Hartman scrambles to my side. ‘Breathe!’
I clutch at my throat as my body cries out for oxygen. Hartman reaches over me and pulls out a red tube. He snaps the lid off, revealing a needle and he doesn’t hesitate to stab it into my neck.
The chemicals react instantly and my throat widens. Oxygen, sweet oxygen, floods my lungs and I slip away to nothing.
‘Bram?’ Hartman says softly. I feel his warm hand on the skin of my right arm. ‘Bram?’
I open my eyes and see my room. Our old room, the one we shared before I escaped this place.
‘Hartman,’ I sigh, and my cheeks ache with a smile. It’s the first time one of those has appeared on this face in a long time. ‘Where is Ernie?’ I ask.
‘He’s okay. You can’t get to him, though. They have him now,’ Hartman says, his round, unshaved face the most welcome sight I’ve ever seen.
‘Eve?’ I ask.
He pauses.
‘What is it?’ I ask, forcing my sore muscles to sit up.
‘Whoa, slow down. You’re not ready to move yet. Your body has to adjust,’ he tells me.
‘What about Eve? How is she?’ I ask.
‘She’s okay. There were a few … incidents while you were away,’ Hartman says, removing his thick glasses and pretending to clean them so he doesn’t have to make eye contact with me.
‘Incidents?’ I ask.
‘She’s fine for now, but not for long,’ Hartman says, looking at my heartbeat on the monitor. ‘Today’s the day,’ he says.
I stare at him, wanting more information.
‘They’re planning the procedure for later today. Early evening,’ he explains.
My mind suddenly pieces the puzzle together. She’s ready to try carrying a baby. As this thought enters my head, I realize that this baby wouldn’t be hers. It wouldn’t even be its biological father’s. It’s their baby, the EPO’s.
What if it’s a girl? What if there are complications when Eve gives birth, eliminating her chances of conceiving again? Would she become disposable, like her own mother?
‘Then we don’t have much time,’ I say, swinging my legs around and placing my feet on the dorm floor. ‘Who else knows I’m here?’ I ask.
‘Mother Kadi,’ says Hartman.
‘Mother Kadi?’ I’m confused.
‘Yes. She reached out to me once news of Ernie’s return found its way upstairs. It seems that you share some friends,’ he says.
Frost!
My heart sinks as Frost’s words echo in my head: We have friends in high places. And I realize the sacrifice he referred to. Mother Kadi was his informant. His wife.
‘Frost … didn’t make it,’ I tell Hartman.
He gives a knowing nod. ‘She already suspects that. She’s not had contact from anyone in days and knew something had happened. She’s a good woman. Tough. Strong. She’s ready for your instruction. We all are.’
‘All? ’ I ask.
‘When you left here, people began spreading rumours about why you were a wanted man, why you were so dangerous, and not everyone saw it the way the EPO sold it to them. People in here like you, Bram. People want to help.’
My mind aches with this news.
‘People don’t want to be lied to any more, Bram. They just need to know the truth. They’re waiting for you to show them.’
I reach out a hand and place it on his shoulder. ‘This won’t be easy,’ I say.
‘Of course not! It’s you!’ he replies, with a smile, and for a brief moment, I’m pleased to be back.
‘So what’s the plan? You do have one, right? Because I sure as hell didn’t go through all of this for nothing.’ Hartman nods to the medical equipment that has transformed our dorm into a small hospital.
‘How are you getting away with this? Has no one questioned it?’ I ask, finding it hard to fathom how keeping me a secret is even remotely possible.
‘Trust me, since Eve started destroying the place and Ernie turned up, things have been different here,’ he says, shoving his glasses on to his nose. ‘Plus, I’ve hacked the sensors in here so they only show one person’s heat signal.’
‘I knew I could count on you,’ I say.
‘Although having Eve’s father return and demand to speak with only me did put me under some scrutiny. It’s not been a walk in the park by any means,’ Hartman says, and my mind snaps back to Ernie.
‘Where is he?’ I ask.
‘Last I heard they were holding him on the lower levels,’ Hartman says. ‘As far away from Eve as possible.’
‘Smart,’ I say.
‘Obviously they don’t want her knowing about his return. The pilots have all been strictly briefed on the new codes of conduct should Eve mention him.’ Hartman rolls his eyes.
‘So there’s no way to get to him?’ I ask, my stomach pulling at the guilt of sending the old man in here on his own.
Hartman shakes his head.
‘How long have I been out?’ I ask.
‘A while …’ He shrugs and scrunches his shaggy, unwashed curly hair. I give him a look. ‘Hey, it took me most of the day just to find the damn cryo-tank you’d hijacked. Oh, and by the way, you owe me a pack of bubblegum. I told you not to waste it. That stuff is vintage!’
I roll my eyes at him.
‘It wasn’t easy spending so much time down there unnoticed, let alone retrieving your frozen butt and getting back up here without anyone asking questions!’
Suddenly the floor shudders.
I look to Hartman, who seems not to react. Like this is normal.
It happens again, the vibration causing the screen of my heart monitor to flicker.
I stand up but my legs wobble and fail me. Hartman grips my arm and helps me back to my feet.
‘The window,’ I say, pointing to the realiTV displays.
The screens flicker on as we approach, showing, as always, the grey clouds. I swipe my hand until it shows the outside world in infrared. Suddenly the windows light up in vibrant reds. Below us swims a sea of hot people, crowding around the base of the Tower.
‘They’ve been out there since Ernie showed up. The numbers just keep growing,’ Hartman says, as we stare out at the enormous crowds surrounding us. I zoom in and see people cheering and chanting. Some hold photos of Eve, or huge banners with Ernie’s face on. Others wave painted signs in the air.
Free Eve.
EPO – Let Eve Go!
Free the truth.
‘The world is watching,’ Hartman tells me.
‘Then we’d better give them something to see,’ I say. ‘Where’s Mother Kadi?’
63
Bram
Mother Kadi arrives at our door, her nerves visible through the small opening in her veil that reveals her eyes. Mothers are allowed on our level at their own risk but it’s a rare sight.
‘Good evening, Mr Hartman,’ she says calmly and casually, as she steps inside. No one is in the corridor. Hartman locked the doors and lifts briefly to allow this secret visit.
‘Kadi,’ I say, as I step out of the shadowy corner of the room.
She freezes, staring at me. I know she’s reading my expression, trying to get confirmation of her suspicions about her husband and son.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, not wanting her to suffer any suspense.
She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t move. She swallows hard and bows her head.
‘Frost and Johnny were strong men. They sacrificed themselves for us,’ I say.
‘For Eve,’ Mother Kadi corrects me.
‘For Eve,’ I agr
ee. I’ll get the hang of that eventually.
‘Then we must not let his sacrifice be for nothing,’ Mother Kadi says, her voice indicating that she’s ready to hear the plan.
‘We don’t have much time,’ I say. ‘I need you to give something to Eve.’ I scan the room. ‘A message.’
I hold out my hand to show her and she smiles.
‘And what do I tell her?’ Mother Kadi asks.
‘Nothing. Eve will know how to read it.’
‘But I thought the plan would be to get her out, to free her. You are here to rescue her, aren’t you?’ Mother Kadi asks.
‘No. Eve doesn’t need saving, she needs to free herself. She needs to see. I’m just going to open her eyes. She’ll do the rest,’ I tell her, and she takes the object from me and hides it under her gown.
‘And once I give this to her?’
‘Just be ready. You must hide yourself. It will be dangerous. I don’t want anyone getting hurt,’ I say.
Her old eyes twinkle at the thought of the events about to unfold. I see the same fire of rebellion in her that I saw in Frost. I bet they once made a formidable team.
‘If this is all you require of me, I’ll return to the Dome,’ she says. ‘I’ll be delivering Eve’s dinner tonight before she’s transferred to the hospital level.’
‘Then make sure she gets that message before they come for her,’ Hartman says, as he walks her back to the door, checking his monitor first to ensure the hallway is empty. He nods and she leaves. Before the door closes, she turns back to me.
‘For Eve,’ she says.
‘For Frost and Johnny,’ I reply.
Tears swell in her eyes. Then she turns and disappears into the hallway.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ I ask.
‘There’s no other way,’ Hartman replies, without looking at me, his focus set on the suit he’s squeezing himself into. ‘Blimey, I don’t know how you wear these things.’
I can’t help but laugh at seeing him suit up. Lycra does nothing for him.
‘Nice,’ I say, giving him a thumbs-up as he slips the kinetic gloves over his swollen fingers.
‘Don’t even start,’ he says.