by Taya DeVere
Iris sucks her lower lip in, unsure of what to say. She knows things are not exactly safe out there in the world. She knew that even before the media stopped reporting news from foreign countries. And she read about the mass murders on the internet. She knew about people dying due to untreated disease or by their own hand. But somehow, she thought it’d all work itself out. It always has before… eventually. All she ever needed to do was turn off the news and wait.
“How did she enter the capsule?” Iris finally asks, her gaze shifting between the sleeping woman and the pad in her hands. “Are you waking her up soon?”
“Well…” Laura walks back to the pod and tilts her head to investigate the woman inside, though she can barely see through the frosted glass. “That’s the reason I remember her. Yes, she was brought to me by the Finnish Mental Institution as a lost cause. But I didn’t have to use force to get her in stasis. She volunteered.”
“She did?”
“Mm.” Laura turns on her heels and heads back toward the operating table. She fishes the martini glass from her pocket and sets it next to a strange-looking helmet with wires poking out. “As soon as she learned that Pharma Salonen had nothing to do with our government,” she runs her finger on one of the helmet’s wires. “That our foundation’s main purpose is to help and heal people…” A shrug of her shoulder. Laura turns around and gives Iris a matter-of- fact kind of smile. “She couldn’t jump into that capsule fast enough.”
Iris places the pad back in its slot on the stasis capsule and follows Laura over to the operating table. A tickling, vibrating sensation takes over her skin. She looks at Solomon with fresh eyes, her breath steady and calm.
Maybe she’s not a megalomaniac after all, she thinks. Maybe she is pure genius.
“Are they all schizophrenic?”
Laura shakes her head once. “Not all. But some.”
“How long do they stay in stasis?”
“As long as it takes to cure them.”
Iris breathes in, excitement and wonder filling her. “How many capsules do you have?”
“Not enough.” Laura grabs the martini glass from the operating table and starts walking toward the glowing yellow staircase. “You need a drink? The staff left for City of Finland this morning, but I’m sure I can manage to mix us something nice. Or if not nice, something drinkable enough.”
Iris hurries after the woman. Once they’re halfway up the stairs, she hears her own calm voice say, “Actually, I don’t drink.” She hopes this won’t upset or disappoint Laura.
Laura looks over her shoulder at Iris, a half-smile on her face. Upstairs, instead of taking a left to head to the bar or restaurant, Laura turns right and pushes through the hotel’s front door. Outside, she stops in the middle of the driveway and tosses the martini glass on the lawn. “Good,” she says and gazes up toward the sunny clouds. “Me neither.”
A horse whinnies at the barn, then two others answer until they all call out together, with one banging its front hoof against the stall door. Laura seems oblivious to the sound. Her face turned up toward the sun, she seems to be lost in a moment, stuck in the here and now.
Iris turns toward the barnyard, remembering Alfred and the reason why she’s here in the first place. “The staff,” she says, staring toward the sound of hungry horses. “You said everyone left this morning?”
“Mm. Not much to do here right now.”
“Here, at the resort?”
“Here as in Iceland.” Laura turns to look at Iris, a small twinkle in her eye. “I bought the place, remember? And running a hotel or a restaurant is a tad below my pay grade.”
When a loud bang sounds from the barn, Iris can’t help it. She enters the grain room and then the courtyard where the horses nicker at her with enthusiasm. Iris goes around, tossing hay flakes over the stall doors. She feeds Alfred last and stops to investigate the stallion as he lowers his head to munch on his delayed lunch.
“I don’t remember seeing a white one,” Laura says from somewhere nearby.
“A gray,” Iris corrects her. When Laura doesn’t answer, Iris looks at the woman and gestures at Alfred’s body. “The white horses are called grays. And you wouldn’t remember him. He’s brand new. I brought him in with me.”
“Huh.”
“What are you going to do with the horses?” Iris asks. “With no staff around?”
“Huh,” Laura repeats. She looks around for a while, thinking, then shrugs her shoulder. “Can’t say that I’ve thought about it.” She pauses to think. “Can I just leave the stall doors open?”
“They’d run off.”
Laura tilts her head at Iris. “Right. Problem solved.”
“You want them to starve?”
This time she shakes her head, with a hint of surprise on her face. “Not at all.” She looks around the barnyard, seemingly out of place. The animals aren’t making her uncomfortable, but it’s easy to see that Laura isn’t used to being around them. “Just because they’re an inconvenience doesn’t mean I want them dead. You’re saying they wouldn’t make it? Out there free and on their own?”
Iris looks around the barnyard. She counts twenty horses here. Most look like chubby trail horses, probably used to entertain the tourists visiting the resort. “Without cars on the road or people… I suppose they could survive. But they will come back for food. Especially during the winter.”
Laura nods a few times, staring at Alfred. After a moment of silence, she asks, “Suppose you haven’t changed your mind? About that job?”
“I don’t know…” Iris says, though a wave of relief rushes over her. “Is it still open? You said there’s not much to do around here anymore.”
“I did,” she says. “But then you pointed out a flaw in my plan.” Laura nods at Alfred.
“So I could work here? At the barn?”
“I guess that depends.”
“On…?”
“What’s your salary request?”
“What are my chores?”
“Well… For now…” Laura nods again at Alfred. “Keep the horses alive and your eye on the hotel while I’m gone. Later, we can figure it out. I mean,” she gives Iris a quick smile. “If I can afford you.”
Alfred stretches his neck to poke Iris on her cheek. Absently, Iris pats the horse’s soft nose while she thinks about what to ask for salary. She needs this. So badly. She’s out of money, homeless, yet unwilling to leave Iceland behind and move to who knows where to live at the mercy of some foreign government with foreign rules. “Room…” she says, still patting Alfred, “And board for my horse.” She wonders if Laura notices her voice shaking when she lies about Alfred being hers.
Surprise washes over Laura’s face. With crossed arms, she tilts her head slightly and investigates Iris’s face. “Let me get this straight, dear. I just told you that I bought a country… And your answer is ‘will work for food?’”
Iris sucks her lower lip in. “I guess I’ll need food, too. Yes.”
Her laughter is genuine, not mocking. Laura shakes her head and walks over to Alfred. Keeping a safe distance, she looks at the horse, respect in her eyes. “You’re not afraid to ride a seven hundred kilo animal with a will of its own. A beast that could kill you in a heartbeat. Yet the first opportunity I give you, you sell yourself short. Way too short.” Laura shakes her head again. “How has this world not eaten you alive?”
It has, Iris thinks as she runs her hand on Alfred’s muscled neck. But I won’t let that happen again.
“Room, board, food…” she says, her voice steady. She turns to look straight into Laura’s eyes. “And five hundred thousand a month.”
Laura doesn’t blink. “Dollars?” she asks, “Or Euros?”
Iris’s heart skips a beat. She stares at the woman, trying to see a hint of humor in her expression. “Icelandic krona,” she says slowly.
Laura laughs again. “Well, dear. It’s a good thing I found you. Because once we get the cities going, a salary like that won’t feed
you for a day. Didn’t you say you can code? Why haven’t you taken a job with the big four?”
“I won’t work for some shitty ass corporation that makes money out of people’s misery.”
“Mm. But you’ll work for someone who stores people in stasis capsules? Without knowing the what, where, and why?”
Iris narrows her eyes. “That’s different. You’re healing them.”
Laura pauses to stare at Iris, hesitating, but only for a second. “What if I told you there’s more to it? That, yes, I agree with my mother that people need help. But that some people’s minds are simply too far gone—too sick—to deserve another chance. Murderers, sociopaths, serial killers, rapists…”
Iris winces at Laura’s last word. She turns her gaze away, swallowing loudly. Her face flushes. Not because she’s embarrassed, but because of the rage that has started to once again bubble at the bottom of her stomach.
You will not let that sick fuck ruin this for you. Laura Solomon will never find out how weak you’ve been. Not now, not ever.
Laura notices the change in her body language, Iris is sure. She waits for her to ask about it, or to give Iris some sort of motherly advice, or tell her that she’s not the only one, so just snap out of it and move on. But move on somewhere else—because the great Laura Solomon can’t stand weakness and damaged goods near her powerful self.
But Laura says nothing.
Alfred’s muzzle finds Iris’s hair. The stallion grooms the side of Iris’s head, forcing Iris to step back to keep her balance. She takes a careful peek at Laura, wondering if she’ll just walk away, not bothering to explain why Iris isn’t good enough to work here after all. But the woman’s face shows no emotion. Her gaze stays locked on Iris when she finally speaks again. “A room,” Laura says slowly, “Board for your horse. Five hundred thousand CC’s a month. And one stasis capsule. That’ll be your pay.”
“CC’s?”
“Chip Currency. It’s the latest and the last currency we’ll ever use.”
Iris frowns. Not because of the currency; she now remembers her mother paying for their last supper with it. No, her forehead wrinkles because of the doctor’s offer. Could it be? She is going to hire her? And what—a stasis capsule? What is this? Is she in danger? Not a cell in her body tells her she will be. Not a single moment spent with Laura Solomon makes her feel as if she should be somewhere else. She feels safe. Trusted. Valued. And she hasn’t even started to work for the woman yet.
“Why… What am I going to do with a stasis capsule?”
Laura gives her a quick smile. “Follow me.”
Leaving the barnyard behind, Laura leads them to the back of the courtyard, where an open-ended hangar basks in the sunlight. Inside, Iris sees a row of vehicles. Laura steps to the closest van and presses her hand on the side of a pad similar to the one attached to the stasis capsules downstairs. The van’s side door swooshes open. Rope, duct tape, shovels, plastic bags, shrink wrap, a heavy-duty trolly, and two strange-looking pistols cover the van’s walls.
“What’s all this?” Iris breathes, still scanning the inside of the van.
“An option,” Laura says. She stands next to the van, her hands in her pockets. “A chance to gain back what was stolen from you.”
“Stolen?”
“Mm.”
Iris climbs in the van and kneels down to run her finger on the gun’s smooth surface. At the end of the barrel, a sharp-looking dart points out. “No bullets…” she mumbles, then looks over her shoulder at Laura. “You won’t… kill him?”
“Me?” Laura leans on the van and crosses her arms. “I’m not going to do a thing. This is for you. Part of your pay.”
The strange, new calm Iris feels is unfamiliar yet soothing and reassuring. Everything about Laura Solomon, this place, their weird exchanges, should feel wrong. Eerie. Terrifying. And yet, the only place Iris feels this comfortable is on a galloping horse’s back. It’s like she’s finally come home.
“He’ll come looking for Alfred,” Iris says, running her finger on the other gun. This one has no dart at the end of the barrel. This one shoots to kill. “The stallion is worth millions of dollars. And I stole him.”
“Good,” Laura says, tapping the van’s door, then gesturing for Iris to jump out. “Consider him a gift from Timothy Walker’s new landlord. From me to you.”
The hem of Laura’s white doctor’s coat flaps in the wind as she circles the van and opens the driver’s side door. She jumps in then leans over to push the passenger seat door open.
Iris blinks at her. “You know him?”
“What do you mean, do I know him?” Laura says, her voice not amused or annoyed. “I own this place. I know everyone who has refused to move away. I told you—just because they’re inconvenient doesn’t mean I’ll erase them from existence. But I will keep an eye on them. I know their names, bank account numbers, criminal records, shoe sizes…” She shrugs. “Soon, I might know their thoughts and memories as well.”
“And Tina?” Iris asks, surprised to realize she cares. “Are we shoving her in a capsule as well?”
“Tina can go home,” Laura says. She presses her hand on the side of the van’s steering wheel. The engine purrs to life. “I can have a jet take her back to City of Nebraska anytime. That’s just one AR-call away.”
Lightheaded, Iris gives a short chuckle. This is crazy. Everything she’s saying is crazy. Laura’s crazy. But that craziness eats away the darkness that has lived inside Iris for too long. It numbs down the pain from last night. Muffles the disappointment of missing her chance to ride at the World Cup.
Fuck the Cup, she thinks and climbs into the van. Fuck riding for anyone but myself.
“One more thing,” Iris says while staring straight ahead, her head buzzing with adrenaline. “Once he’s in that capsule downstairs…” she takes a deep breath, lifts her chin high. “I don’t want him to ever see daylight again.”
***
In the middle of the winding road, an old Chevy truck speeds toward the van. Powdered snow sprays from underneath the spiked tires. As soon as the driver notices the van in the distance, the truck accelerates.
“That him?” Laura asks with a calm voice. “Or Tina?”
Iris swallows. “It’s him,” she says, annoyed by the way her voice shakes again. “Tina doesn’t know how to drive.”
The calm she felt back at the resort is fading away. But at the same time, she feels more focused than ever. Like she did when riding Alfred for the first time. Every step counts. Not a second can be wasted. This is her chance to take back what Timothy stole from her.
Her dignity.
Her safety.
Her soul.
Laura takes her foot off the accelerator and lets the van come to a stop. Both hands on the steering wheel, she turns to look at Iris. A small smile on her face, she asks, “Ready to start making the world a safer place?”
Iris peers at Laura, but quickly turns back to stare at the approaching truck. She’s scared. Terrified. But there’s no way in hell she’ll admit that to her new boss. Just like she’ll die before letting Timothy know that he still holds any kind of power over her. It’s only been hours since Iris stole the man’s horse, zoned out, and found herself in the middle of an underground pod farm filled with unconscious people. Only hours—yet she’s stronger than she’s ever been in her life.
She opens the door and jumps out. Tapping her foot against the snowy road, she waits for Laura to circle the car and press her hand on the pad. The side door swooshes open. Iris jumps in and kneels down to grab the stun pistol. Her hand wrapped around it, she freezes, her gaze locked on the other gun—the one with deadly bullets in it. Could she… Should she? She waits for her inner voice to give her the final push. To call her names, stomp her down, spit at her, telling her what a coward she is to even consider anything other than ending Timothy’s miserable life.
But the inner voice is gone. It’s not there anymore, no matter how deep Iris digs for it, longs
for it, pleading for it to come out. The voice is not there—because she’s become one with it.
Outside, a truck door slams shut, about ten meters away. Laura stands next to the van, her chest wide, face neutral, shoulders relaxed, her hands deep in her coat pockets. She leans her weight on her toes, then shifts to her heels and back again. She looks like she’s in a line at a movie theater, waiting for her popcorn and soda pop.
“Who the fuck are you?” Timothy’s voice booms through the air. It’s immediately clear to Iris that he’s been drinking heavily.
Laura looks at the man, her face still neutral. Then she leans forward again, shifting her weight on her toes, back to her heels, and then toes again. Swaying. Waiting. The smallest smile twitches at the sides of her lips, but Iris is sure Timothy doesn’t notice it.
“You fucking deaf or something?” His steps crunch against the snow. “Never mind.” For a moment, no one says a word. Then, Timothy’s yell echoes around the van and the lava fields. “Iris! Come out of the fucking van, Iris!”
Her hand still wrapped around the stun pistol, Iris holds her breath.
“I saw your ass lurking in there. Didn’t think you’d bump into anyone you know on your way to the airport, did you? Well guess what? You can tell your taxi driver to make a U-turn back to wherever the fuck you just came from. You’re not stepping foot on that plane until you hand back what you stole.”
Iris pulls the stun pistol from its slot on the van’s wall, then reaches for the other gun, pulls it out as well. Kneeling, the van’s passenger seat shielding Iris from Timothy’s sight, she takes a deep breath, watching Laura in the middle of the road, her blond ponytail dancing in the wind. One hand in her pocket, Laura brings her other hand in front of her face to investigate a fingernail. She brings the nail to her mouth, blows on it, then shoves her hand back in her pocket. A sigh rises in her chest as she stares at Timothy with no emotion.
“Seriously? What the hell’s your problem?” Timothy stomps over to Laura and stops a meter away from her. Iris stares at the man between the van’s seats through the front window, knowing he can’t see her inside the van. “Huh?!” he keeps snapping at Laura. “You deaf and mute, too?”