by DeVere, Taya
“Mark of the Beast. Could it be? That’s what you’re thinking, right? That maybe Samuel was right after all?”
But there’s no one in the room. Just like she has been for the past few days, she’s all alone. Is this cabin fever?
Enyd holds on to her head and starts pacing around the room. The see-through walls mean that the inmates downstairs can see her meltdown, but she can’t calm herself down. What’s happening to her? Is she—
“You are not going insane. Unless I have lost it as well. Which is always a likely possibility. Maybe we—”
She bangs her fists repeatedly against her temples. “Who is this? Why are you inside my head?” Then she stops to stare out into space. “Are you—”
A rumbling laugh echoes inside her skull. “Am I God? Sorry, Enyd. You aren’t that lucky. People call me Reverend Marić.”
“I don’t understand. Did you attack me through the glasses?”
More echoing laughter. “Like a genie from a bottle? Again, you’re not that lucky.”
“What, then? What the hell is going on?”
She can almost hear the man—this being—shrug his shoulders. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’m just as surprised as you are. But since the day of my chipping, I’ve seen you. Heard your voice. Your thoughts. I’ve felt your fatigue and worry. Whenever it gets too overwhelming, I can block you out. It seems this connection can be controlled by our will.”
“You’re definitely a looney. None of this makes any sense.”
But doesn’t that make her the crazy one?
“Just try this. Close your eyes. Really focus on my voice. Like it’s your own voice, your own thoughts. Now, look around. What do you see?”
Enyd holds her breath, her stomach churning. Could she vomit this voice out of her head? Could she dig for the chip, remove it with her stubby fingers, and switch her brain back to whatever normal state it has enjoyed for the last sixty years?
“Just try it. You can come unglued later.”
Enyd stares at the screen saver at the other end of the room. Rainbow bubbles bounce against one another, changing direction, only to return again.
“Try it. If you can’t see it, I promise you will never hear my voice again.”
Shaking her head, Enyd closes her eyes. She turns her focus inward to the place where the thick Slavic accent booms. She imagines it’s her own voice. Her own mind.
She sees a waterfront.
A cluttered, partly collapsed harbor.
The tip of a church—a thing from the past.
A square-shaped building, glowing bright neon-purple light. The narrow waterfront reflects that light, creating a mirror illusion. A small, serene port sleeps in the midday sun. “Where…”
“Belgrade, Serbia. Or I guess I should say, City of Serbia.”
“Why should you say that?”
A vibrating sound startles Enyd. The AR-glasses rattle steadily against the floor. Like it’s a hissing snake about to attack her, Enyd takes a step back.
“You better answer that. They’ve been buzzing you for quite some time. Just be warned, the glasses will cause you some discomfort. But you must answer anyway.”
Enyd keeps staring at the glasses, reluctant to touch them again. “And just ignore the pain?”
“You’ll get used to it. As unlikely as it seems.”
Slowly, Enyd kneels down and picks up the glasses. Biting her lower lip, she does her best to ignore the stabbing pain as she puts the glasses on.
A trailer of red glowing lights.
Beaming, cheerful people.
Pills of all different shapes, all different colors. It all flashes in front of her eyes. Her stomach flips again.
“Hello? Is this Enyd?” A slightly nasal voice Enyd distantly recognizes speaks through the invisible microphone.
“This is she,” Enyd says, her voice raspy and weak.
“Okay, great. Let me turn on the camera.”
Enyd sees a woman sitting in a hefty, leather-lined gaming chair. A list of food items flashes by as the smiling woman taps the air.
“Just let me finish with this order real quick.”
A food service. Doctor Solomon had mentioned that at the hospital before the procedure. That once Enyd had moved into the city, she’d be able to order in anything on the menu. Breakfast, lunch, supper. Just put on the glasses and let us know what you need.
Big red letters appear on the screen.
50 CC - PAID
Enyd holds her breath and closes her eyes. This is all too much. Too much is changing at once. And she’s not where she’s supposed to be. She’s still here, in the deadly city, trapped in a prison with a hundred doomed inmates and not enough guards to control them.
Samuel’s face flashes in front of her eyes. His big hand, resting on a white-covered Bible. On Enyd’s thigh. At the back of her neck. Is this the Mark of the Beast?
“Okay, that’s all set. So, Enyd? How are you feeling? My name is Nurse Saarinen, in case you don’t remember me from the other day.”
Enyd opens her eyes. A stern, pale face stares back at her. Nurse Saarinen is smiling, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Her high forehead and pointy nose make her look almost robotic.
“Honestly, I’m not feeling so well. I think I’ve changed my mind, Nurse Saarinen.”
“Changed your mind about what?”
“About the chip. I thought I would be moved to the city immediately. That I’d already be a part of the Happiness-Program. But instead, I’m back here. Stuck.”
“Where else would you rather be? When we left City of England, most of the people there were dead. I’m quite sure things haven’t improved since then.”
“Send a plane for me. There are other cities.”
Nurse Saarinen sighs on the other end of the line. “Negative. Too risky. The City of England is a hazard zone.”
“Then fix it.”
“Impossible. The plague mutates quickly and is therefore medication resistant.”
“You can’t keep me locked in forever.”
Enyd can almost hear Nurse Saarinen’s indifferent shrug.
“It’s your life. Or should I say death? But if you’d like to prolong one or the other, there is a place where we could transfer you. It’s a residential children’s home. Kinship Care. Just outside of London. The place is a part of a program called Chip-Charity. A man called Dragan Marić runs the program and needs people like you to participate.”
Enyd recognizes the name; the reverend.
“Another Unchipped woman, Margaret, is already there. Too bad, we could have used her talent in the City of Finland. She’s a hell of a programmer. But the kids were apparently left alone after the workers fled, so she was needed there.”
“Where did they go?”
“Sorry?”
“The workers. Why did they leave the kids alone?”
This time Enyd hears Nurse Saarinen’s lab coat rustle as she shrugs. “Beats me. Why does anyone do anything when they’re about to die?”
Her apathy gives Enyd the chills.
When Enyd doesn’t reply, Nurse Saarinen continues. “We’ll send a local helicopter for you. They’ll transfer you to Kinship Care first thing tomorrow morning. Bring the AR-glasses. We’ll talk later.”
Enyd looks over her shoulder. Down in the living quarters, only Jaxon’s crew sits around a round table, playing cards. The rest of the prisoners are either in the TV room or burning things in the kitchen’s industrial oven. It’s just a matter of time before things will turn into chaos. And then, even Samuel won’t be able to help her. She has to accept this offer. She has no other choice.
“What about the prison? The inmates? I can’t just let them die.”
“So, what would you suggest? Should we move a hundred grown men, some sex offenders for sure, to a children’s home?”
“These people are good men who made a bad decision once. Surely you know what that’s like?”
“Of course! I’ve made tons of mist
akes in my life. But moving a hundred inmates to live in a house full of children won’t be one of them.”
She clicks her tongue and ends her rant. Nurse Saarinen is clearly done with this debate. Done with this AR-call—done with Enyd. “Just be ready at 8 a.m.; there’ll be a car there to take you to the helicopter.”
“And the prisoners?”
“What about them?”
“What do I tell them?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just leave the gates open as you go. I’m sure they’ll run for the hills. We’ll let Mother Nature take care of her own.”
***
The next morning Enyd stands by the front gates, holding a keychain of USB drives and one keycard. The guards have already been picked up, transferred to their new lives, which Enyd knows nothing about. She’s the only one left—Enyd and the inmates. The sound of the gates opening will undoubtedly wake up the prisoners if they aren’t up already. It’s seven-thirty in the morning. She hasn’t had a minute of sleep.
A red fabric bag, with the prison’s logo printed on its side, hangs from her shoulder. She doesn’t have much to take with her. And the driver that Doctor Solomon’s crew sent for her won’t be making any detours. But it’s not the lack of clothing and other belongings that makes Enyd hesitant to leave.
She pushes the USB drive into an electric pad on the side of the prison gate. The thick metal doors slide slowly aside. Once they’re wide open, the doors stop moving with a loud clank.
Enyd closes her eyes. Now, all she can do is wait.
After a few minutes, distant yells echo across the yard. It’s her name they’re calling out in wonder and awe. Or is it panic and despair?
The sound of her breath mixes with the thumping of running feet. Enyd is not sure what she wants to happen. The car should be here in thirty minutes. Will the prisoners let her leave? Or will they drag her back inside and hold her hostage?
Will they kill her?
She hears the sound of hurried feet, but they stop just behind her back. Enyd doesn’t turn around. She’s too ashamed, too beaten to confess the sin she’s about to commit. Scared for her life, she’s almost certain she’ll end up dead. Right here, right now.
But even more than death, she’s afraid to see his face. Judging her. Hating her.
Jaxon sounds slightly out of breath. “What’s going on, Enyd? You left all the doors open.”
“I did.”
“Are you leaving the front gate open as well?”
“I am.”
Surprise fills Jaxon’s voice. “Damn.”
Jaxon peeks over his shoulder, silencing the ripple of mumbles and chattering behind him. Once it’s silent again, he gazes upon the green hills that roll out in front of the gate. In the distance, the city glows a strange, red light. Is the city on fire? Or is it the tiles they’ve installed all around, before the plague took the city?
“You going there? To the city?” Jaxon asks, nodding toward the red light. Enyd sighs and lowers her chin. Jaxon takes it as an answer, yes or no, Enyd doesn’t know. “Maybe we’re immune to that shit.”
“And what shit is that?”
“The shit that kills everybody.”
“Maybe.”
Jaxon moves his weight from one foot to another. His twitching hands and restless feet scream of his urge to run for the hills. His reflex to make a run for newfound freedom. One of the inmates clears his throat behind them. “We going or staying or what?”
A grin spreads across Jaxon’s face. His eyes reflect his hunger for a new beginning, his willingness to leave this place behind. “Fuck it. What’s the worst thing that could happen? We can either die of hunger here or live a little. I’d rather hit a few pubs and drink whatever whiskey’s left before I cash in my chips.”
Enyd wonders if the pun is intended. But the man doesn’t have a chip. None of them do. They have never made the cut.
The five men start walking toward the red glow in the distance. A man walks over to her, stands so close that Enyd’s shoulder brushes against his bicep. His folded hands hold a white-covered bible and a set of rosary prayer beads.
They watch the five men walk across the field. Once they reach the green hills, Enyd holds her breath but forces herself to watch what happens next.
But nothing happens.
Just a red glow, an illusion, a reflection that swallows Jaxon and his crew into the city.
And just like that, they’re gone.
More footsteps reach the standing couple. Without a word, one by one, the men make their way out of the prison gates, onto the field, up the rolling hills, and into the red light. Not one of them collapses on the ground to gasp for air. But it’s just a matter of weeks, maybe days.
It seems like hours. They stand, Enyd and Samuel, and watch as the inmates disappear into the red light. At some point, Samuel reaches for Enyd’s hand. The prayer beads press against her palm. She welcomes this slightly painful sensation, the only thing grounding her in this moment. Everything else is too surreal.
Suddenly there are no more silhouettes to follow. Not a single person remains on the horizon. But they keep on standing. Hand in hand. Watching. Listening. Waxwings fly above the prison gates. Enyd looks up and hopes that the birds will land somewhere nearby. Maybe she’ll see a sign of the plague… a rotting wing, or a featherless head. The news said nothing about the animals. The screen was only filled with bruised, decaying people.
The black van appears out of nowhere. It parks fifteen feet away from the prison’s front gate. The driver remains seated inside the vehicle; nobody steps out. The motor’s steady purr sounds patient and demanding at the same time. Is it too late for her to change her mind? Did she ever even have the privilege of choice?
Enyd holds Samuel’s hand tighter. The beads press against her palm like rusty nails. “You could come with me. I can talk to them. Make them see…” Her words trail away as Samuel turns to look at her. His big, rough hands cup her face. The kiss is different from last time. Hopeless yet hopeful. The first and the last of its kind.
When Samuel says nothing after their long kiss, Enyd continues her pointless rant. “Maybe the plague is false news. Maybe all of it is. Just the government trying to scare us into staying where we are. For everyone to get chipped, so we’re all part of an easily controlled system. Maybe it is the Mark of the Beast.”
Samuel smiles. His rough thumbs caress Enyd’s blushing cheeks. Even in the middle of the silent chaos, when there’s no more threat of getting caught, she still feels overwhelmed by the bundle of feelings that Samuel arouses in her.
“Professing to be wise, they became fools.” Samuel moves his hands to hold Enyd by her shoulders. His Bible presses softly against Enyd’s neck. “But there is a plague, Enyd. This is the end. They have a few days, maybe only hours until their time on this earth—in this reality—comes to an end. And it’s okay. If we live, we live for the Lord. And if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.”
He places the Bible and the beads into Enyd’s hands and kisses her forehead. “I hope that one day you will do His work. Help others see what I see and help them see the sign. Help them feel Him. When you feel as if you’ve lost yourself—that’s when you’ll find Him. That’s my last wish. To you.”
Then, Samuel starts walking.
Enyd opens her mouth, but she’s become mute. She listens for the birds, for words, for any sign of life. But she’s become deaf. She wants to run after Samuel, grab him by the back of his overalls, force him to return. But she’s lost all control over her limbs.
All she can do is watch. Watch Samuel follow the steps of the other inmates.
Into the field.
Up the rolling hills.
Into the red glow.
CHAPTER 4 — IN THE BLIMP’S SHADE
The raindrops fall on Enyd’s bare arms and calves. Their piercing coldness feels like a thousand broken prayer beads, plummeting from the sky to punish her sinful skin.
; She should dance in the rain. Move her hips to the tune the reverend inside her head is humming. Ignore the agony in her ankles. Forget the images of two beaten girls, counting to a hundred. Their body and spirit torn into hundreds of little beads.
But her body is made of lead. Her mind is blank, save for Samuel’s words repeating in her ears: “When you feel as if you’ve lost yourself—that’s when you’ll find Him.” He’s been right, all along. God is the answer. She needs to do everything as Samuel once told her.
“You should celebrate!” Nurse Saarinen had said. But Marić had another kind of message. “Enyd, I don’t know what happened in the basement, but it has clearly upset you very much. Maybe we should—” This is where Enyd had cut the connection. What’s about to happen next has nothing to do with the reverend.
One million and twenty thousand chip credits. Overflowing praise for their latest warning video. A victory for the Happiness-Program. Perfect injuries! Outstanding resemblance to the real plague! Relatable agony and distress. “I bet the city gates will stay clear tonight. I bet none of the Chipped will want to share the poor girls’ fate.”
That’s one thing Nurse Saarinen got right: poor girls. But it’s never what Nurse Saarinen says, it’s how she says it. With glee. Excitement and satisfaction.
Enyd had left the girls in the basement and told the boys to clean up and lock the door. Back upstairs, she sent the video in and listened to Nurse Saarinen’s excited rant about it through the AR-set. Then she tossed the phone and the AR-set back in the drawer, walked out of the office, out of the library, and into the yard. Here, she’s been standing in the rain for a small eternity. Blending in with the dead grass and mud puddles.
A dark blanket of storm clouds turns the dusk into night. She should be cold in her thin white gown, but Enyd doesn’t focus on such meaningless things: cold, discomfort, hunger. It makes no difference to her now. All she needs is a sign.
She feels the reverend with her at the back of her mind. The Serbian man is intelligent. He can read the room—or a mind—from two thousand miles away. He can read Enyd like an open Bible.
